If it was important to me, it was important to him

One of my fondest childhood memories is sitting on my parents bed and my dad walks in and says: “What do you want to do today?” I said I wanted to play. We played. I don’t remember what it was we played, I just remember that he played with me, what I wanted to play.

I was important to dad and he let me know it in many small and important ways. Dad had to travel for work and whenever he could, he took me with him. I saw my home state from one end to the other, traveling with my dad. It was on one such trip that he taught me to drive. On another trip, we went to the horse races. We figured out handicapping together. The last race of the night we picked our winner. Not being to sure of ourselves, we picked her to show. Before the race the odds on our winner were high. We thought we blew it. Our horse won! I don’t remember how much we would have won, or did win just that we were right, we figured it out together.

Dad took me on my first commercial airplane ride. Took me to Dinosaur National Monument. Threw rocks off of Dead Horse Point with me. We drove miles out of our way to see things that he thought I would like.

One summer, Dad promised that in two weeks we would hike to the top of Grandeur peak. The day before the hike I reminded him of his promise. That day was July 2nd, 1976. So, on July 3rd, when all the rest of the City was celebrating our 200th anniversary (July 4th was on a Sunday) Dad and I hiked to the top of Grandeur peak.

When I got into Skiing, dad got into skiing and took me often. I remember well seeing my dad fall and break his wrist skiing with me. He never went on about it. We kept on skiing year after year.

When I was in something at school, Dad was there to see it.
When I broke with family tradition and went out for cross country track instead of football, track became my dad’s new favorite sport. We ran 100’s of miles together. In 1988 when I ran the St George marathon, dad jogged out from the finish line and ran the last 10 miles in with me. He met me when I had hit the wall, as they say in running terms. Dad talked me through it. Then when I saw the finish line a 1/2 mile ahead and wanted to finish strong, Dad told me to take off and I did.

Dad helped me get jobs and offered advice on how to be a good worker, what to say and how to handle myself around important people.

When I got a ticket for going 70 in a 35, Dad went to court with me. Not in a mean sort of way. I think he was teaching me about our justice system. He taught me how to address the judge and encouraged me to plead not guilty so that I could see and learn how it all worked out. The judge was nice but I was still guilty. I paid the fine with my own money.

At important times in my life Dad would sit down with me and we would talk. I remember talking to my dad in the living room before my baptism. I remember talking to my dad in my living room after the “for young men” meeting we had at school. Dad did no shy away from talking about sex and taught me how important it was to treat it properly. Dad and I talked before I went to the Temple, before I went on my mission, and before I got married.

Dad got mad and me. I deserved it. Dad punished me then loved me all the more after.

Yesterday, I talked to my dad. We talked about my life now. He still is a fan. If it concerns me, it concerns him. He is proud of me and tells me so.

I hope I can be that for my sons.

See more progress on: When the music plays, dance.