My Father

            The latest question for my life story is “What was your Dad like when you were a child?” I thought that I would share my answer on my blog in order for other family members to get to know him better.

            I believe that you must understand the early years of my father’s life in order to understand what he was like as an adult. He was the fourth child of his parents and had one older brother and two older sisters. He was about 14-15 months old when his father left for a mission in England. His father was gone for two years, and his mother spent that time earning money to send to him as well as taking care of her four young children. I am sure that she was more than ready to have her husband come home.

            I am also sure that my grandmother received a big, ugly surprise upon the return of her husband.  It seems that he was not happy to be home with her and the children, and there began to be a great deal of discord between the two of them. These marital difficulties lasted for eight or nine years until they divorced when my father was 12 years old. He wanted to stay with his mother, but he was forced to live with his father and new stepmother many hours away from the town where his mother lived.

            Dad’s stepmother was not interested in being his mother, but his father needed Dad’s help on the farm. When other children arrived – two boys and two girls – Dad was treated even more unfairly. This is an example of some of the unfairness: The stepsiblings were allowed to practice their musical instruments in the house, but Dad had to do his practicing in the barn.

            There were other things that happened in his childhood before the divorce that probably had an effect on him as a man because he wrote about them in his life story. One night he went to the school house to see a basketball game. He did not have enough money to buy a ticket, so he went to the back of the school to determine if he could see the game through the window. While Dad was there trying to see the game, a masked man grabbed him from behind, put his hand over Dad’s mouth, and started carrying Dad towards a barn. There was a fence between the school and the barn, and Dad got away while they were crossing the fence.

            When Dad arrived home from school one day when he was about 8-10 years old, his mother sent him out to help his father haul some hay. He was hungry, but his mother insisted that he leave immediately. He went by way of a pine tree and found some pine nuts to eat. He arrived at the field at the right time, but he had trouble completing all the tasks while trying to dig pine nuts out of the cones. His father “got after” him a time or two, and then he reached up with the pitch fork to get Dad’s attention. The tine of the pitch fork hit Dad in the head, and blood started running down his face into his eyes and down his neck. Grandpa’s brother got after him for treating Dad so badly, but they sent Dad back to the house. By the time that Grandma saw him, Dad had dried blood all over his head and face. He says that “they had words” when Grandpa got back to the house.

            As a child I thought that Dad was mean. In fact, I remember a time when I tried to convince Mom to divorce Dad because he was so mean. Looking back on my childhood and knowing what I know now, I realize that he was not mean. Yes, he did spank his children, but he did not beat us. Yes, he did yell at us when we built playhouses on his farming equipment and played games when we should have been working. Yes, he did tell us that we were lazy and that he was disappointed in our failing to do what we were supposed to do.

            Now I would describe Dad as gruff, overworked, and tired. Now I understand that he was doing the best that he knew how to do and learning as he went. We always enjoyed having Mom and/or Dad play with us, whether it was softball, basketball, ice skating, or board games. It did not happen very often, so it was special when it did happen. It seemed to me that Dad always had candy and nuts left in his Christmas stocking long after everyone else had eaten theirs, and he would bring out his stocking full of treats while we played Flinch or some other game over the holidays. He would share with us, but he also made it very clear that the candy and nuts belonged to him and were not ours to eat.

            I found this quote in Dad’s life story – written by my oldest sister who put Dad’s writings together. “From a home torn by strife and violence, [Dad] set a different course – one of humble spirituality and obedience. Through the years he has set the highest of standards in temple and family history work. A giant in righteousness, his many descendants will always know him as one of the great patriarchs.”

            I agree with this statement by my sister. I saw many of Dad’s weaknesses, but I also saw his strengths. I will never forget the example that he set each Sunday for years. Before leaving town and heading home after Sunday School, Dad would always stop to check on his stepmother. She had not treated him well, but Dad did not let her words and actions affect how he would treat her. Each Sunday we would go into her home and have a polite conversation with her. They were never quick stops but lasted at least half an hour. I did not actually think much about it until I was an adult and learned more about Dad’s childhood and the divorce of his parents. I really admire Dad because he was able to forgive all the pain that she brought into his life and to show respect to her as his father’s widow.

            Many years ago while my mother and father were both living, I wrote a poem about each of them and gave them the poems for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Dad was so pleased with his poem that he showed it to other people. I know this because my cousin told me that he showed it to her. This is my poem titled “My Father.” It shows how my feelings about him changed from my childhood to the time when I was parent. I believe it answers your question about my father.

I used to think he was old and mean,

But as I grew up, I became more keen.

Hard work and lectures and spankings too

Were what I needed to be good and true.

He set the example, working hard all day.

He always told us, “Work before play.”

This is a lesson I’m glad I learned.

Now I can teach it in return.

He tilled the soil and planted the seed,

“If we don’t sow, we cannot reap.”

Life on the farm was hard and long,

But twelve little children grew up strong.

Although he was busy, he worked for the Lord.

He held many positions in our ward.

Genealogy and weekly temple work

Are some of the duties he does not shirk.

He sets good examples for our family.

And he always counsels, “Be better than me.”

With a father like mine, it’s easy to see

Just how much my Heavenly Father loves me.