Some of Jeff's memories of his grandpa

* I don't remember a lot of words. I do remember a lot of work (his primarily- not mine).

* Once my brother (Tiff) and I had been tasked to rake the lawn while grandma and grandpa were visiting. We had almost finished with 1/16th of the front yard when we saw grandpa watching us from the window. He came out to show us how it should be done correctly and soon had the whole lawn raked.

* The blue coveralls. If I recall correctly, when he was originally diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he was given three months or so to live. Four months later we had to shoo him off the roto-tiller when we came to visit and he was in the back yard in those coveralls.

* I remember a time when grandma and grandpa were driving my brothers (Tiff and Steve) and me home from some event in Utah County. We had just passed Point of the Mountain on I-15 and were beginning our descent into the Salt Lake Valley when a car in front of us did something dangerous and caused grandma to put her hand on grandpa's leg and exclaim, "Steve!". I felt that showed an inordinate concern for my youngest brother and was feeling somewhat neglected until I later learned that grandpa's name wasn't "Grandpa Rushforth".

* I remember grandma and grandpa driving us home from visits at their house and grandpa would quiz us with algebra and spelling questions to pass the time. He wasn't much for stories.

* "Simmer down", as I recall, was his most common phrase of correction to us grandchildren.

* I remember that he was always there. He was never missing from any family event.

* I think he had a perfect knowledge of some aspects of the Gospel. On what was probably one of his last trips outside of the house, I got to drive him to Bowmans (the supermarket down in Kaysville). I don't remember what he bought- I do remember what he said. He said that he was ready to die. He said that he had a good family and that he'd lived a good life according to the Gospel and that was what it was all about. His voice didn't waver. There was no appeal to my emotions or sympathies. He told me in pretty much the same manner that he'd used years ago to tell me the correct answers to the algebra questions he'd posed for me. I was strongly impressed that this wasn't just his belief. My grandpa was talking to me. He was a man who was looking death straight in the eye and it had no power or influence over him. It wasn't courage, it wasn't bravado. He knew and he wanted me to know. I don't remember many words from my grandpa, but what I remember is enough.