My earliest memories of Dad include waiting and watching for him to come home. When I finally saw the white cloud billowing up behind his vehicle on the dirt road, I knew he was on his way. At that point I would run to the back door to await his arrival. When he opened the door, I would jump out and “scare” him. He would pick me up and toss me and hug me and then we would settle into our evening ritual of reading the illustrated Book of Mormon. I loved this time with Daddy. Lizzie and Rennie and I would vie for the best place. It wasn’t difficult to get cozy and be near to Dad. His body was so large that three children seemed to not be much of a problem. Daddy often fell asleep on the couch and we all curled up around him and dozed with him. We felt so safe when he was home.
I remember not feeling safe and knowing I would be if I was with Daddy. Mom was in the hospital and often, Daddy would take us with him rather than leave us. When I was about five years old, I saw his car leaving without me! He must have been called into the office because I didn’t realize he was leaving until I saw his car heading down the dirt road into town. I ran after it calling to him and I remember getting as far as the turn of the road and realizing I had never gone that far so I might as well go the rest of the way. Sandra told me I walked all the way into Dad’s office when I was five. I believe it was on this occasion.
Dad loved corn on the cob. He loved working in the garden and we all loved being in it with him. He always made us work along side him. He taught a strong work ethic in both his example and his expectations. He was never idle. If he wasn’t working in town at the hospital or office or “Missionarying” (as he liked to call it), he was working on the farm. If he was resting on the couch, he was sleeping. He never just sat around and watched television, with the exception of M*A*S*H and Perry Mason at night. He often had one or two children on his lap as he did farm work on the tractor. He often woke in the middle of the night to deliver babies and to change the water when it was our turn to irrigate crops. I heard it once said that he had a farm to raise children, not crops. He did it well. We all worked. We fed cattle, drove tractors, burned weeds in the ditches with a blow torch attached by a long black hose to a propane tank.
I once complained to Dad that it wasn’t fair that my brothers had all the interesting chores and I was expected to do housework. I’m not sure it was a good idea to tell him that. He never again hesitated to give me a difficult outside chore. I shoveled lots of manure and hay.
Dad didn’t just work hard, he played hard too. He loved to waterski and was pretty good at it. We always had a boat, even if it was an older model. The key hung on a rack and when I was a teen I used the boat like other kids used the family car. I loved to waterski. Dad promised to teach me how when I was 12. I will never forget waiting for him to come home from work that day. He had promised me when he took me to school that morning that when he came home that evening, he would teach me to ski. I waited and waited. I believe a woman had gone into labor, but Dad did not break his word. When he got home, I could see how tired he was, but in my selfish 12 year old mind, I reminded him of his promise. The key came down from it’s hook and we were off. I will never forget the feeling of skiing for the first time. I was flying. My Daddy took the time to teach me how to fly!
Which reminds me of his airplane and the many adventures we had in it. One day just he and I were flying. I was in the co-pilot’s seat. He asked me if I wanted to fly. I said, “Okay”. He let go of the steering wheel and leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. I WAS THE PILOT!!! It was a great feeling of power. Dad knew how to teach children that their personal power was their own, but he was still close enough to help if we "messed up".
Kind of like my relationship with my Heavenly Father.
Thanks for teaching me Dad. Thanks for being you and loving me!
1 comment:
What a tender tribute to your father. I already knew he was a great man, but he seems even more fabulous knowing what a loving father he was to you and your siblings.
Thanks for sharing your memories. I love hearing about others' childhoods.
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