Happy Birthday, Dad

Happy 100th Birthday, Dad!

Dear Dad,

Today is your 100th birthday, and I thought I would share a few thoughts and feelings with you.

You were 42 years old when I was born, which means that I was born about half way through your mortal lifetime. My earliest memories of you are memories of getting up early in the morning so that I could take a bath with my dad. It was just-you-and-me time. I remember watching you shave. You would later up with a shaving brush using bar soap, and then you would shave. Sometimes with a double-edged blade and sometimes with a barber’s straight-edge. I remember watching you leave for work, and I was very excited over the years waiting and watching for you to walk down First North street after being dropped off by the bus.

I remember doing yard work with you and Denny on Saturdays. When I got a bit older, I remember sometimes going to Bennett’s offices on Saturdays, and you would let me play with the adding machines and typewriters as you did work. When I got into high school and learned how to run a printing press at the library as part of my job, I was able to use the printing press at your office. I was fascinated by the technology. The ThermoFax was particularly fascinating.

When I was a junior in high school, I had to decide on an elective class. After showing you the choices, you told me to take typing. I objected, telling you that only girls take typing, and only girls become secretaries. I will never forget your advice: “Layne, the future of business is in computers, and computers have typewriter keyboards. You will want to know how to type.” I took your advice, and I signed up for the typing class. The boy-to-girl ratio was as expected, but that ended up being an unexpected plus. More important, the typing class was very useful throughout high school, college, law school, and my career. Thanks, Dad.

When I think of my dad, I recall fourth (or 24th) of July breakfasts, working on the welfare farm, going home teaching to inactive or part-member families, and black licorice. (If I can find some sugar-free black licorice today, I will have some.) I have fond memories of sitting in priesthood meeting with my Dad, especially stake and general conference priesthood meetings. I enjoyed father-and-son outings, although I really hated the drive up and down that narrow road in Farmington Canyon. I loved the family vacations. I knew that Mom was the instigator and planner of a lot of them, and I was a bit surprised to learn from Mom that you were the planner and instigator of the 1962 vacation to the Seattle World’s Fair. That was fun. I loved our “family hour” and playing “Seven Little Travelers” (usually boys against the girls). I am grateful to a father who paid for my room and board during my first year of college as a “reward” for my getting a tuition scholarship. (The room and board was a lot more expensive than the tuition.)

You did not write me much during my mission, but you always made sure I had plenty of money in my checking account. I was particularly grateful when you returned my savings book from Barnes Bank after my mission, and not one penny had been spent. You told me to spend it wisely for college, and I did. With that savings account and my job at the Language Training Mission, I got my bachelor’s degree. I finally emptied the account when I bought Sharon’s engagement and wedding rings. I appreciate the financial help now and again. Each time I would come home from college to visit, you gave me gas money. One time, you asked what I would do with $50 if you gave it to me. I told you I would buy a spare tire for the Galaxy 500 that I was driving. You were upset that I did not have a spare. You gave me the $50, and I bought the spare tire.

I enjoyed our visits over the years. You did not lecture me. You mostly listened. When you gave advice, it was wise and welcomed. You were not the most patient grandpa in the world, but neither am I. My kids loved visiting you and Grandma (except for Matt, but that was because of the spiders in the basement).

As a boy, I was proud when people told me that I was like my dad. I still am. At your funeral, I expressed gratitude for the life lessons that you taught, mostly by your example. If anything, my gratitude is more profound now than it was 15 years ago. I am grateful for a father who loved his family and sacrificed to provide for them, honored his priesthood, served his fellow men, served his country, attended the Temple regularly, and did his duty both in his community and in the Church.

Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss you.

Layne