I remember Daddy when we went on a short vacation in the family station wagon. Daddy always called “soda pop” by the name of “soda water”. He loved strawberry soda water. I had learned to read by then and as we traveled we came across a sign reading “soda spring ahead”. Well I knew what a spring was so I began a campaign. We just had to stop and get a drink of the “soda water” coming out of that spring. Daddy didn’t correct me at all, but he stopped the car. He told us children that we should wait in the car until he could be sure the water coming out of the spring tasted as good as it should. He came back smacking his lips and told us it was very good “soda water”. Well I was sure it just had to be strawberry pop. I bounded out of the car and ran to the fountain and took a mighty mouth full and then spat it out. It was disgusting! There was no strawberry flavor at all. Daddy had a pretty good laugh. He thought it was a great joke.
I remember Daddy as we moved from McCloud, California. We had loaded up our belongings into a truck and were heading down the road. Daddy drove the truck with my brother riding along. Mama and most of the kids were following the truck in our family car when the truck ran off of the road and turned over. I don’t remember understanding what happened, and I don’t know if I was ever told the circumstance of that crash, but I remember seeing the truck turned over. I remember the discussion of how we couldn’t stay to recover our belongings because we were in a hurry to get to Arizona because of Daddy’s new job.
I remember Daddy as a school teacher in Fredonia, AZ. I remember walking with him to school. I was 5 years old at the time. I admired his long stride and I tried to imitate it with my short legs. I couldn’t do it, but I continued to try. Daddy was 6' tall and I, of course, wasn’t. Later on in my life I grew to be 6'2" and my stride was a little longer than his as we walked side by side.
As I approached High School, Daddy’s name became “Dad”. I remember Dad as one of my High School teachers. He taught Math, Sciences and Spanish at Fredonia High School. He enrolled me in his Spanish Class. I didn’t want to learn Spanish and was very vocal about it. He insisted I take the class anyway. I purposely failed the class because I “was gonna show Dad.” Later on his interest in teaching me Spanish was prophetic because I was called to a Spanish speaking mission to Uruguay.
I remember Dad when I told him I was going to put my papers in and apply to be a missionary. His response: “It would really not be convenient for you to go.” That sealed it. Now I just had to go. I might have been the least bit rebellious.
I remember a tear in Dad’s eye when he first saw me as I got off of the airplane returning from my missionary service.
I remember Dad when my fiancé and I informed him we had decided to marry. His response: “Well, shoot yourself.” That was one of his normal responses. I don’t know he ever knew that it offended my soon-to-be bride.
I remember Dad when we announced that we were expecting our first child. I remember the pleased look in his eye.
I remember how pleased Dad was when I told him I had been hired by the railroad. He had been a railroad blacksmith years before.
Later in our lives, I remember Dad when we told him we were leaving my employment with the railroad, and had determined to move to Enterprise, UT where he had moved a couple of years before.
I remember Dad when Mom passed away. He was lost. He no longer had someone to keep him going. Though much of my memory of Dad and Mom was the arguing, I knew they really did love each other, and he really did miss Mom.
I remember Dad when he suffered a stroke that robbed him of the use of his right side. At first he tried to climb out of his skin. He told us he wanted to die. At the same time his ability to speak was affected. He couldn’t pronounce words well. One of our good friends came to Dad’s hospital room and asked him to say “Mississippi”. Dad couldn’t do it, but we all laughed, including him, at his efforts. The more he tried, the more he laughed and pretty soon, he couldn’t talk at all because of the laughter.
I remember the day that Dad passed away. I was within just a few feet from him. His breathing had become so shallow it was hard to actually tell if he was breathing or not. We had to put our ear close to his face to hear him breathing. But, when the time came we knew.
I learned many things from Dad. He taught me basic electrical wiring. He taught me basic plumbing. He taught me home construction and repair. He taught me how to maintain an automobile. He taught me how to work with wood, and he taught me how to be resourceful in resolving issues. I guess what he really taught me is my love for “red-neck” solutions.
I know that my Father loved me all of my life. I know that he still does love me. He has earned the title of “Father” and I hope I have earned the title of “Son”. I love my Father, and I have always loved him, even when it didn’t appear to be so. It will be a glorious reunion when we see one another again.
