This is the second day of January, 1955.  I have been to Priesthood Meeting, to Sunday School and at eleven thirty, the Fast and Testimony Meeting commenced which I attended.  It has been a wonderful day to me.  The Bishopric also has asked that I accept a job as a ward teacher.   I feel glad that we are getting acquainted in this the First Ward in the Park Stake.
      For many years my children and others have urged me to write the story of the most important experiences of my life.  I have always had it in mind and the desire to write, but have just put it off day by day hoping the time would come when I would have time and feel sufficiently humble that I might be worthy of the inspiration of the Lord to direct my thoughts and that I might put the same words that would be read with pleasure and satisfaction by my posterity, loved ones and friends.
        This morning our Sunday School teacher spoke these words, “You may not think at the time that it is necessary to record the experiences of your life, but you owe it as a duty to your family and posterity who follow you.”  With this thought, I feel it my duty to write some of the things I feel important to write.  I here resolve to do my best.
        In this important work I feel the need of the inspiration of the Spirit of the Lord to direct my mind and thoughts and ask my Heavenly Father in humility that I might be directed by His spirit in performing this, one of my most important obligations.
        Some time before my wife Sarah’s death, she wrote a beautiful story, not a long story.   But in that story I read the words of a good sweet girl, a devoted wife and mother, my dear companion for forty-nine years.  If my children and their posterity can get the joy and satisfaction in reading my story as I have had in reading the story of Sarah Van Wagoner Winterton,  then I am sure my time in writing will be well spent.  Because her written story was not quite complete when she passed away, I have wondered if she may have purposely left it for me to finish that our life story   might  be  more closely tied together.     Yes,  if  I could  just tell one tenth of her many virtues,  of her love,  her patience,   her faith and devotion to duty, to her parents,  her brothers and sisters,  and especially her husband and children, to friends and neighbors, both home and abroad, where we spent many happy days together. Yes, perhaps never did we know each other better than in the trials, the sorrows and the joys of missionary life we shared together.  Together we gained many friends whom we could not forget.
        In order that I may be able to tell my story better,    I feel I must first tell what I can of the lives of my ancestors, especially my parents, and their sacrifices and trials in coming to Zion, that we, their children, could be born here in the “Valleys of these Mountains.”  I wish I could tell the story so you, dear reader, could appreciate it as I did When listening to my parents as we sat by the fireside at night when they felt free to talk.  I appreciate so much the fact that they obeyed the Gospel message while yet in their youth and had courage to come to Zion.  I feel indebted to my brothers and sisters and here express my thanks to them and all others who have helped to gather some of this information.
        My Grandfather, William Hubbard Winterton, was born June 26, 1816 at Nottingham, England.  My Grandmother, Sarah Marriot Winterton, was born

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