My Dad was the 3th child born into a loving family. He was from sturdy pioneer stock from both sides of his family. He grew up in a little Mormon settlement called St. David Arizona which is about one hour south of Tucson. He loved growing up in St. David because most of his friends were his cousins! He was active in sports and music and helped his dad working in the little grocery store that had been started by his grandmother. About his senior year of high school his father was asked by the governor of Arizona to be the warden of the Arizona state prison in Florence Arizona. This was kind of tough for him to leave his boyhood home and all his cousins to be in a new place. By the way how did my grandpa go from being a little hometown grocer to the warden of the state prison??? Well, when my grandpa was just a young man he was the sheriff of the town of Bisbee Arizona which at the time was the largest mining city east of the Mississippi. He was a tough Sheriff amongst many shady characters but he was well respected for his integrity. There are many exciting stories of my Dad’s family living at the prison facilities but that period of time lasted about 3 years.
My grandpa wanted his family which had now grown to 8 children to have the influence of the Church, so he took his family to Mesa Arizona and opened up another little family grocery store where my Dad and his brothers helped to get established.
My Dad was a hard worker and loved being among his family working each day. He then had the opportunity to further his education by attending Tempe Normal School which later became known as Arizona State University.
While at college my Dad was a fast runner. At the time of around 1932 Jesse Owens had just run the 100 yard dash at 9.4 seconds. While at a practice my Dad ran the 100 yard dash at 9.6 seconds.
My dad told me that after he ran the race his coach came running to him yelling at him that he was going to make him a world champion. Bill wanted me to point out that my dad was only 5 feet 6 inches tall so his legs were really fast!
Not long after the excitement of thinking of a sports career my dad was suddenly hit by severe back pain. He couldn’t run, or do any of the sports that he so dearly loved. He was sent back to the Mayo Clinic in Michigan where he was diagnosed with spondeolitis of the spine. Was my father devastated? Did he shed tears, I’m sure many many times. But recently I asked my Dad’s only surviving sibling about that time in my Dad’s life and he told me that he didn’t burden others with his heartache nor did he complain he didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him.
He continued his schooling and graduated with a business degree. At that time missions were more of an optional choice and he felt that his dad needed his help at the grocery store. He worked hard to help support his older brother on his mission. When his elder brother Harold came home Dad was then called to serve in the central Atlantic states mission with headquarters in Louisville, Kentucky.
Dad served well and loved his mission and was a dedicated missionary.
When Dad came home he once again worked with his Dad and brothers at the family grocery store. This store was always closed on Sundays and they never sold liquor. It became quite successful in this Mormon community.
Dad was hard worker and very loyal to the family business, but he did manage to check out the cute girls who would come into the store to shop. One of those girls one day seemed to need extra special attention in picking out potatoes of which my dad was happy to assist. They seemed to be right for each other and soon after they were married in the Mesa Temple.
My mom and Dad settled in Mesa and started a family. My Dad and Mom were thrilled when their first child was born, my sister Carolyn.
Life was a struggle because the War II had just ended and there were many shortages. Some food products were hard to come by and also housing was hard to find.
Since my dad was in the grocery business he usually had first pickings of food. Bacon was a real treat, and not everyone could get bacon. My mother would fry the bacon in the morning and all through the apartment the smell of bacon would drift to the hallways. Unfortunately the land lady told my mom that if she didn’t get her some bacon she better move because the smell of bacon was driving her crazy!
I think we sometimes we forget that there are challenges for each generations, times can become very hard, insecurity abounded them during their lives too.
My Dad was a faithful man in the church. When he had a young family he was called as a counselor in the Bishopric and served for a couple of years. The Bishop at the time died and my Dad was then called to serve as the Bishop in 1951. My Dad served continuously until I was a senior in high school. He was a wonderful Bishop, He just had a knack to get anyone to do anything! No one could say no to my Dad.
My Dad suffered all that time with bad health. He was the perfect example of perseverance and dedication. His spinal problems caused him to have stooped back and constant pain. He didn’t ask to be released; in fact in 1961 he suffered a broken neck in a swimming accident. He truly suffered then. He was sent to Salt Lake City to have a specialist operate on him. His surgery was 13 hours, he was in a body cast for many months, but he still served as Bishop.
I remember once I was in high school and a very busy teenager or so I thought, I was working every night, and on Saturdays, I had many extracurricular school activities and was a primary teacher, I had been teaching primary for three years, I felt it was time to quit, I felt I had served enough time. This was back in the day when primary was held during the week. I just felt that I could do it all, so I went into my dad’s bishop’s office and said I wanted to be released. I remember it so well, he said, Jayne you should never ask to be released, you should only tell the Bishop of your circumstances and let them decide what should be done. This has been a great lesson of my life. Remember my dad didn’t ask to be released with a broken neck! He served a few more years! I know through his service he strengthened many of the ward members testimonies.
I remember the day when my dad did receive the call for his release and how he cried many tears. One would think they would be tears of joy, but really they were tears of love he had for so many of his ward members he had taken care of for so long, it was difficult to pass the mantle on.
He taught me another lesson though that I would like to share with you.
After his calling as Bishop he was called to serve on the high council. He loved that opportunity of service too. He loved every job he was asked to do. A lesson I learned well is that it doesn’t really matter where you serve if you put your heart and soul into it you just should love whatever you are asked to do, and do your very best, you will love it and feel it’s the best calling you’ve ever had.
My Dad died shortly after Bill and I were married in 1971, he was only 59 years old, He was an ordinary man that accomplished extraordinary things.
I love you Dad!
