I Am My Father's Daughter

1. My Dad was a Master Storyteller

No one could tell a story like my Dad. But I’m going to do my best to give two of his favorites a try. The all-time classic was the story of a fateful hunting trip with his Uncle Ray and his tote-goat. I sat in many parties and heard him tell the tale many times throughout my life. The recounting was always the same and always resulted in a room full of side-splitting laughter. First, Dad would set the story up. Uncle Ray loaded the buck they had got onto the back of the tote-goat to pack it down from the mountain. He jumped on the front and revved the engine. The front of the tote-goat popped up into the air making Uncle Ray slide down to the back. At this point Dad began acting the story as much as he told it. Raising his hands over his head, Dad would show how he tried to pull down the front of the tote-goat followed by miming Uncle Ray's reaction. "I pulled down on the handlebars and Ray went no-no-no-no." Dad would then jump into the air as though being shocked by a cattle prod. He went on repeating the actions until everyone was laughing so hard they couldn't breathe, “I kept pulling down on the handlebars and Ray kept yelling 'no-no-no-no.' I'd let go, the front tire would go jump back up so, I'd pull down again and Ray would yell 'no-no-no-no.'. Finally, I stopped and we realized when the front tire had jumped up, Ray had slid backwards and the tine of the buck had gone straight up his butt!" Apparently, Uncle Ray never went hunting again after that. But no worries, there were other epic stories.

Years after the hunting debacle, Dad was driving on the freeway with his cousin Craig. For some inexplicable reason, Craig reached over and, as Dad put it, went “dink-dink” to the steering wheel. Well, Dad was going perhaps a little faster than normal freeway speeds and Craig’s little “dink-dink” with the wheel sent the car out of control. As Dad would say, “First I was up on two wheels like this, so I yank the steering wheel this way and then I’m up on two wheels like this so I yank the steering wheel the other way and then I look up and I’m headed straight at the side of a semi-truck. So, I crank the steering wheel the other way and straighten out in time for the back tire of the trailer to roll over the front tire of my car. So, we all pull off to the side of the road and the driver of the truck gets out as says, ‘Wow, that was so cool. I could see you in my rear-view mirror and first you were up on two wheels one way then you were up on two wheels the other way. I don’t know how you didn’t roll!’ Then he said he was really in a hurry and didn’t want to wait for the cops. Dad was more than happy to not wait for the cops, so he and Craig pried the front bumper back out so it didn’t rub on the tire and headed home. When they got there, Dad walked into the kitchen and announced, “Guess what Mom, I just got ran over by a Semi-Truck!” Grandma took one look at her son, knew he was telling the truth and burst into tears.

I always wanted to hold the attention of a room the way my father did. I didn’t have that gift and only ever came close when retelling his classic stories at his funeral. But I learned to channel his love for story-telling as a word-smith. Given the time to plan out my thoughts, I remember the way he would build tension and excitement and mimic his talent on paper. I imagine one day my children proudly proclaiming, “No one could write a story like my Mom.” Like his, my stories will be a legacy they can hold onto to feel close to me when I am gone and share with the next generation.

2. My Dad made the world safe for me

When I was about ten, Dad and I drove down to Lehi to spend an evening with my Grandparents while my Mom and sister were gone to a Young Women’s Activity at our church. We enjoyed a typical visit with my Grandparents that included Grandma stuffing me full of cookies and Grandpa answering all the Jeopardy questions correctly before the contestants did. After a short time, Grandpa pointed out that we should go because it had started to snow.

We’d only gotten as far as the end of the road when the flakes suddenly began falling faster, and grew larger, coating the windshield almost before the wipers could brush them away. As I peered out the window all I could see was blackness and little points of white snow shooting toward us as if we were soaring through the vast expanse of space. Snow now coated the road in a soft, slushy blanket. I felt the back end of the truck slide a little and remembered Grandpa’s warning that we didn’t want to go around the Point of the Mountain in the snow. My stomach clenched tightly and my palms grew sweaty.

“We should have left earlier,” I mumbled as tears of fear burned in my eyes.

“We’ll be just fine,” Dad’s voice was calm and steady. “I promise.”

I looked away from the snowy road and turned toward Dad. He seemed relaxed. His hands weren’t clenching the steering wheel in white knuckled fear as I expected. He stared out the window, alert and completely in control. While he smiled gently to calm me, I saw more in his face. I saw determination etched in the lines around his eyes and I knew Dad would get me safely home. His calm presence helped me relax.

Dad drove slowly, keeping the truck safely in his lane. We rounded the bend around the point of the mountain. As the snow got deeper, our speed got slower, and I felt occasional flutters of fear threaten to envelope me. Still, Dad remained calm, a comforting smile on his strong jaw. His presence chased the fear back to the recesses and I was able to relax once again.

An hour after leaving Grandma’s, the snowy drive home finally ended as we pulled into our driveway. As Dad had promised, he had gotten us home safely and I knew he always would. For the rest of my life, when I’m in a car in a snowstorm and see the flakes flying toward me, I remember that feeling of calm reassurance that my Dad would keep me safe.

Years later, as an old married woman, I work on a University campus with thousands of young adults who come to me for advice about many life choices. The most common question I get: “How did you know your husband was the one?” I always answer without hesitation, “He is my safe place. Whenever I am sad, scared, embarrassed, or frustrated I get homesick for him, because that’s where I am safe.” I am amazed how often this concept surprises others. Not everyone shares the great fortune of having a person in their life that makes them feel safe. But thanks to my father it was the most important thing I looked for in my life partner.

3. My Dad taught me everything I needed to know

Early one summer morning when I was seven years old my Dad got up and loaded his fishing gear into his old grey truck. While it was still pitch dark outside, the two of us pulled out of the Driveway. Together we watched the sunrise as we unloaded the gear at Strawberry Reservoir. Daddy showed me how to bait the hook and was so proud I was brave enough to touch the worms and put them on my hook myself. He taught me how to cast my line and hook the fish when they nibbled. He helped me reel in the big ones when they struggled and proudly took my picture while I held up my catch.

That day my Daddy taught me to fish so I will never go hungry. He taught me to be brave so I can face hard things. Most of all, he taught me his time was his most precious commodity.

I wasn’t much older when Dad let me sit on his lap and steer the car for the first time. I have vague memories of driving up and down our little street or along dirt roads while we were out camping. Eventually my Dad thought it would be okay to let me try driving with him sitting beside me. We drove out to the boonies somewhere with my sister Aimee and our neighbor Ellen along for the ride in his beat-up bronco, to be fair it might not have been so beat up before this trip. He let both Aimee and Ellen who were closer to 14 each have a chance to drive. Then I had my turn. Oh dear. He probably should have known better than to let an 11-year-old drive. But we were in the middle of no where with nothing but bushes and dirt roads as far as the eye could see, what harm could it do? I thought it was a blast driving, and I was laughing and having a fabulous old time. I drove over a bush and said “whoops.” Dad laughed too and said it was no big deal. Then I drove over a slightly larger bush, that might also be described as a small tree. This time Dad didn’t laugh. “That’s enough! Stop!” He took over driving the rest the way. The entire way home the three of them razzed me about driving over a tree. By the time we got home and he shared the story with my Mom, you’d think I’d taken out a mighty Redwood.

Despite the harrowing adventure, Daddy kept teaching me how to handle a car and by the time I took driver’s ed I was very comfortable behind the wheel and ready to take on the world. I won’t lie and say he never lost his patience with me when I did something stupid, but he always made me feel comfortable and in control. He never gave up on me and if he felt it, never showed me any fear.

As a mother it is my turn to pass on the wisdom of my father to my sons. I have survived teaching one to drive, often repeating the same words my father used, with probably a little less patience.

4. My Dad loved nature and sharing the beauty of the earth with his family

My Grandpa loved to hunt and when they were kids, my dad and my uncles eagerly awaited the day they turned twelve and could join Grandpa on the hunt. The time they spent hunting created the best memories of their childhood and when it became his turn to be Dad, my Daddy wanted to create those same lasting memories for us. As long as I can remember, camping was the preferred vacation for our family. Sometimes we went on short little trips into the nearby Uintah’s. Sometimes we went on longer trips to Bryce, Yellowstone, or the Grand Canyon. When we were little, we had a tiny tent trailer we sometimes used. Sometimes, we used a regular tent. And other times, we had the great adventure of backpacking. The first time we went backpacking, I couldn’t understand why everyone else was so slow or why they were whining about their back packs being so heavy. Of course, Dad was carrying everything except the kitchen sink on his back and I was carrying nothing but socks. I was four. We took another trip several years later and I was determined that I would prove to my sister that I could run up the trail just as fast as I had on that first trip, despite now carrying a fully loaded back pack. As it turns out, I couldn’t. That was the trip that I learned that nothing tastes better than fresh caught trout cooked on a campfire.

Dad loved nature and wildlife and did his best to share that passion with the rest of us. He was well known for his uncanny knack to see a deer halfway up a hillside, hiding behind a bush, three miles away, while driving down the highway at 60 miles an hour. I can’t tell you how many times we’d be headed somewhere and Daddy would suddenly declare, “look there’s a deer” and point out the window at some tiny speck barely visible to the naked eye. Half the time the conversation went a little like “Hey look there’s a deer!” “Where Dad?” “Right there, see half-way…” “Jay watch the road” “But there’s a deer, there on the hill” “But Jay, you’re driving” “But there’s a deer. Do you see it girls?” “Yes Daddy, the deer is super cool just like the last 37 you showed us.”

Eventually Dad’s love for nature took us and later his Grandchildren to many incredible destinations. Yellowstone, Bryce Canyon, Capitol Reef, the Grand Canyon, Lehman Caves, Glacier Park, The Tetons, Goblin Valley, Arches. When they became Grandparents, Daddy insisted on taking each Grandchild on a solo trip to Yellowstone with him and my mom. His love of the beauty and grandeur of nature, his respect for God’s creatures, and his passion for sharing those things with the ones he loves lives on in his wife, his daughters, his sons-in-law, and his grandchildren.

5. My Dad had an incredible passion and sense of pride in his work

When I was young, my Dad often brought home work and I remember sitting with him at the kitchen table, covered in blue prints. Even though it was late and my Dad was tired and had lots more to do, he would meticulously explain what they were building. He loved to go into detail about his projects and even though a lot of it was over my head, I loved sitting at his side listening to him talk about it. I sort of understood my Dad’s role, he was in charge of making sure everything would come together as it was supposed to and would be made with the right materials, in the right thickness, and up to the high standards he expected. Then he would take all that info and tell the customer how much it would cost and how long it would take. As I’ve met and talked with others in his industry, I learned that Dad was highly respected in his field, he was the go-to guy for many if they had any questions and concerns on their own projects.

I remember driving home from Grandma’s house at night and Dad pointing out the string of lights on the side of the West Mountains, by Kennecott. I always thought they looked like a giant fishing pole. “That was my first project,” Dad said proudly. That’s when I learned the giant fishing pole was really a giant conveyor belt for the open pit mine. That’s also when Dad took the rest of the drive home to explain in detail how it was put together and the challenges they had in its construction.

There was never a drive through downtown Salt Lake when Dad wouldn’t point out several buildings that he had helped build. I still remember proudly pointing them out to my classmates when we went into town for field trips. It didn’t dawn on me until I was an adult, that very few of my friends ever talked about what their Dads did but I always rattled on endlessly, so proud of my Dad.

But even more amazing than what my Dad did for work was how he did that work. If he could get out of bed, no matter how sick he might be, Dad went to work. When he was sick before his first kidney transplant, I remember him being so weak. Wheeling the garbage can down the 30-foot driveway exhausted him to the point he would have to lay down for a half hour to recover. But morning after morning, Dad woke me up for school, got ready for work, and headed to the office. He was so tired his boss often would go to talk to him and find he’d fallen asleep at the desk. Two weeks after the transplant, he was back to work. That never changed, a year before he passed away he had stroke and spent several days in the hospital. The doctor’s released him late Sunday evening and he went to work the very next morning.

As I have faced my own health challenges in the past two years, there have been many days when I’d rather curl in a ball and hide away. I wonder to myself how he did it. How could he have been so sick and still been able to work, take care of my sister and me, fulfill his volunteer obligations in our church, and still have time for his wife? I still have not figured out the answer, but he somehow always took care of what was most important. So, on the days when I just do not have the energy to be a wife and mother and still work and fulfill my church obligations and I just want to sleep, I think of my Dad, take a deep breath and get out of bed. Because when my kids look back on the years their mother was sick, I want them to say no matter what their mom always made sure the important things were taken care of (even if the vacuuming never got done.)

6. My Dad generously left us no inheritance

Several years ago, the topic of a will came up. Dad snorted and declared loudly, “Don’t expect a dime from me when I go. I’m gonna spend every last penny while I’m still here to enjoy it with you.” In other words, he didn’t want to leave us money when he could leave us memories.

I learned early on that my Dad loved to indulge Aimee and I whenever he was able. For him, that often came in the form of treats, presents, and little extras along the way. I remember when Aimee was getting married my Dad came home early one day and told me to get in the car. We headed to the mall and went in. I assumed he was taking me to pick up something for the wedding. Her engagement was only 8 weeks long and so everything revolved around her for those 8 weeks. But as we walked in my Dad said, “Aimee’s getting all the attention right now so I wanted to take you shopping and let you get something just for fun. I want you to know you are important too.” I have no idea what I picked out or how much he spent, but I remember how special he made me feel.

When his grandchildren came along, he showered them with material gifts too. The kids all got to enjoy Grandma/Grandpa day for their birthday. This was a tradition my own Grandma had started when I was tiny. My Grandma would pick us up after school, take us to dinner, and then shopping. We got to pick out one, maybe two, modest gifts and make memories we cherished forever. Mom wanted to continue the tradition with her own Grandbabies, but Dad refused to be left out. Of course, he decided he could do it better, bigger, and way more over the top. Instead of just dinner, they usually went to eat and to a movie. Instead of a modest gift, they filled a shopping cart at Target. Instead of an afternoon, it often became an entire weekend. But it was never about saying, “Look how much I can spend on you.” Dad showered them with gifts because he loved to watch their faces light up with excitement. He always wanted to say “yes” and never tell his Grandchildren “no.” And mom, loved it just as much as he did. The thing is, the grandchildren probably can’t tell you much of what they got on these adventures, most of the toys are long since worn out. But spending that time with their Grandparents is the highlight of their birthday. When my kids come back, they never focus on what gifts they got. Instead they are excited to tell me about all the fun they had while out with Grandpa and Grandma.

Now he is gone, I feel so fortunate that there was no money to inherit. I got to enjoy my inheritance with my father at my side in what are now precious memories. He left just enough for my mother to get by, but everything else he did not wait to spend. He took us on trips and out to dinner spending his time as much as his money. My house is full of things he bought over the years, just because he thought of me or my boys when he saw them and now I think of him when I use them. Like him, I value a smile on my child’s face more than a dollar in my pocket. I love to take my family out to dinner, where no one is distracted by a television or rushing off as quick as they can wolf down their food. We splurge on adventures big and small, and often include friends, because I want balance of our memory bank to always exceed the balance of my money bank. At times I question if its worth the money then immediately think, “If Dad were here, he would make sure this was paid for.”

7. My Dad was a hopeless romantic

When I was a teenager I was out shopping at the Mall with my Dad. While we were walking through JcPenney, Dad suddenly stopped at stared at a display. We were walking past the lingerie section so I braced myself for what I expected to be one of Dad’s silly jokes about bras or something else I didn’t want to hear. But then I realized, my Dad was looking at a mannequin that was wearing an elegant, floor-length satin nightgown with a wispy soft white chiffon robe over top. Dad got this weird look on his face and said “Becky would look so beautiful in that.” It was like $85 or something, and this was back in the 90’s. But Dad had to buy the nightgown for my Mom. I’ll never forget the look on his face. I had always known that my parents loved each other, they were ridiculously comfortable with more PDA than I was comfortable seeing. But this was the first time I really understood that Jay was in love with Becky. Not because she was his wife or the mother of his children. He really loved Becky and after all the years together she was still the most stunningly beautiful person in his world. It was also the first time I learned that my Dad thought Mom was a life-size Barbie and he loved to dress her up. That never ended. He filled closet after closet with clothing he couldn’t wait to see my mother in.

Growing up with a real life “Happily Ever After” in my house shaped my world in a rosy glass is half full and that’s way more than enough kind of way. That’s not to say Mom and Dad never had their moments. My brother-in-law used to joke that he needed to show up early any time we were invited over for dinner so he could “watch the show.” That’s what he called the heated banter between my parents as they worked near but not always together to prepare dinner. Both would get frustrated and often let their temper flare. But within minutes, they would act as though nothing had happened. Mom even went so far as to claim they never argued, which my father argued with her about. I always kind of loved my parents’ little quarrels. First because they were so ridiculous. They got upset over the silliest things, just like normal people. But mostly, because I saw that their silly quarrels never changed how much they loved each other.

My parents’ love story was epic and inspiring. Momma says it’s because they were determined to cherish every second of the 29 years they almost didn’t get. They spent time together before Dad got sick the first time, but after his transplant, my parents re-devoted themselves to sharing each other’s passions. They took photography classes together and combined my Mom’s creative passion with my Dad’s passion for national parks. They constantly were flitting off to different places, honing their skills and of course, Dad always included as many pictures of Mom as she would sit still for.

My sister, many of my friends, and I all looked to their example of how a relationship should be. Dad treated mom like a queen and we expected the same from our husbands. Now as my boys begin dating, my father continues to be the standard they are to use when determining the appropriate way to treat a date.

8. My Dad believed in God

Every Sunday the four of us went to church together as a family. His faith wasn’t flashy or pushy or superficial. As a teenager Dad decided on his own that he needed God in his life and went back to church despite his father’s opposition at the time. But Dad persevered in his faith, went to church, raised his daughters to believe in God, and taught us to turn to God when things are difficult. Just few days before he went into the hospital for his first transplant, Daddy asked me to go with him into his room. He sat me down and offered a very special prayer on my behalf, known in my faith as a Father’s Blessing. He didn’t say it, but I understood that he knew he might not come home so before he went into the hospital for the surgery he wanted to leave me with a special blessing. I wish I could remember what he blessed me with, but I’m not sure it matters. After 30 years I remember what really mattered about that moment. The last thing my Father wanted to leave me with was the comfort of a blessing because he had faith in God even in the hardest moments. The greatest thing my Dad ever gave me was the opportunity to learn for myself and build my own faith in God. I believe there is more beyond this life and I’ll get to see and hold my father again. I have faith in a loving Father in Heaven who eases my burdens and gives me the strength to get through the most painful times. It’s easy for me to believe in a Heavenly Father that loves me because first I knew that my daddy loved me.