Nesius guilty in chase case

Judy Ellen Grof, 68, of Idaho Falls, passed away November 28, 2018, at her home.

Judy was born June 28, 1950, in Sundance, Wyoming, to Straitor and Elaine Clark. She attended Sundance High School and Black Hills State College.

Judy was a member of the Episcopal Church, Jobs Daughters and Eastern Star. On the ranch, she spent most of her time riding her horse, Sandy, working cattle and sheep with her father and being with her family.

She met Bill in 1968 while showing her steer in 4H at the Crook County Fair in Sundance. Bill, from Pennsylvania, was in the Air Force assigned to Sundance Air Force Station.

He acquired an immediate love for Judy, horses and western life. They were married a year later in 1969 in Sundance.

Two months later, however, they headed for his next assignment in Dayton, Ohio. Judy went from a ranch girl in Wyoming to a city girl in two short months. By virtue of Bill's work, she had the blessing to live in Wyoming, Ohio, Colorado, Pennsylvania and Idaho during her lifetime.

Judy and Bill had a wonderful life together having desires for the same activities. They were married for 49 years.

They were both Christians, having been lost but now found (Amazing Grace) with a life in Jesus Christ. She and Bill were members of First Presbyterian Church of Idaho Falls.

Judy served faithfully in the youth program and the food basket program. She always wanted to help those in need.

Her main activities were hiking and biking. She and Bill once rode their tandem bicycle 230 miles in two days. They all hiked up Table Mountain a number of times. She loved the wild flowers and also enjoyed gardening at home.

Later, as the children grew up and left home, Judy and Bill's activities switched to dogs. Judy loved her Australian Shepherd, Max. They served others through visiting hospitals and homes to provide therapy to those in need. Part of Judy died when 12-year old Max died in October 2018.

Survivors include her husband, Bill; her mother, Elaine Clark; son, Daniel; daughters, Susan Chandler and Katherine (Gale) Danielson; grandchildren, Caitlyn (Ben) Huskey, Dillon (Michaela) Chandler, Linkin Jensen, Emma, Eva and Sawyer Danielson; three great grandchildren, Kira, Emery and Dean Huskey; sisters, Joanne (Darrell) Nicholas, and Janet (Mike) Hutchinson; and two brothers, Jim (Vicki) Clark and Larry Clark.

Judy was preceded in death by her father, Straitor Clark, and daughter, Elizabeth, who died during childbirth.

There will be a Celebration of Life at 1 p.m. Friday, December 7, 2018, at First Presbyterian Church, 325 Elm Street. A Memorial Service will be held at Good Shepherd Episcopal Church in Sundance in the spring. Judy and Bill have a headstone at New Sweden Cemetery in Idaho Falls.

In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations to The Haven, The Idaho Rescue Mission, or Promise Ridge. Condolences may be sent to the family online at http://www.woodfuneralhome.com.I’m sure there are many nice things I could say about a blanket made from banana bark but, as I have no intention of investing in one, I shall be forced to remain ignorant of its merits. The same will no doubt soon be said of a village down the road from my home town.

Let’s set the scene for this tale, which I am confident will soon attract your empathy. Imagine the most English village it would be possible to build, replete with thatched cottages, duck ponds, a humpbacked stone bridge that has stood for hundreds of years, winding paths, a gentle river through the middle and churches that have welcomed worshippers since medieval times.

The tiny town you are thinking of is called Wool, and is exactly as quaint as you now think it is. I spent time there as a teenager because a good friend happened to live in the neighborhood, and even then I was charmed by its refusal to accept that the fifteenth century has come to an end.

It’s a strange name for a village, I know, but that’s because it’s very, very old – Anglo Saxon, in fact. The village appears in writs from the year 1002 and shows up again in the Domesday Book later in the same century. Keep this in mind, please – it’s going to be important later.

The population is recorded today at somewhere around 5000, but only because the census includes the nearby Bovington army camp. The actual number of families in the village is probably closer to, oh, I don’t know, five or six, maybe ten at a push.

The Wool Parish Council received a letter last week from an international organization we’re all familiar with: People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. It came straight from the desk of a lady called Elisa Allen, director of the British branch.

“I am writing on behalf of PETA with a suggestion that would put Wool in the spotlight and promote kindness to sheep,” she began. So far, so good, I suppose. Everyone likes to compliment a ewe when they get the chance.

Even the first sentence came as a surprise to council members who were unaware that rams are in need of cuddles, but Ms. Allen did not stop there. Her suggestion was for the council to rename the village entirely.

It’s astonishing enough that PETA would want to change a name that has been in place for a thousand years for a cause as specific as sheep kindness, but I think they may have put the kibosh on their own scheme when Ms. Allen revealed her thoughts on this possible new title.

PETA would like to change the name of the village to – and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this – Vegan Wool. It’s been pointed out to me that it sounds quite nice if you run the words together; almost Norse, as though there are still some Vikings enjoying a beer in the local pub.

But there are not, and one could not, and so what we would end up with is a name that would be problematic for a brand new subdivision, let alone a dwelling with history that might well stretch back to the time of the Romans, for all we can tell.

To add insult to injury, Ms. Allen promised a reward for Wool if they acquiesced: PETA would hand out a “cosy, cruelty-free” vegan blanket to every household. These, Allen says, are made from such things as hemp and coconut fibers treated with enzymes extracted from oyster mushrooms, which sounds lovely.

Considering that I am telling you all about this incident some 5000 miles from where it happened and that the national press in Britain is having a heyday, it’s hard to argue with the letter as a publicity stunt. Though the parish council will be obliged to discuss it as it was a request in written form, I think it’s safe to say the answer will be no and, meanwhile, the rest of us are more aware today that PETA believes there is cruelty going on in the British wool industry (for the record, I feel quite strongly about the need to stamp out cruelty, though this would not be how I went about it).

But here’s my annoyance that the letter was sent in the first place. Remember that I said that the village appeared in some of the oldest documents we still have access to? Well, back in those Anglo Saxon writs, the settlement wasn’t called Wool; it was written as Wyllon.

In the Domesday Book? You’ll find it described as either Wille or Welle, while the Book of Fees of 1212 lists it as Welles.

The funny thing about British names is that they often evolved over time along with the language itself. We didn’t have much in the way of a standard dictionary until quite recently, which is how Shakespeare got away with making things up, so nobody really noticed when a few letters got transposed.

But while those four versions seem quite different, they all have the same thing in common: the meaning. In old English, they mean “sprin