What I Admired About My Father:

My father was a perfectionist. He may have carried it a bit too far in some aspects and not far enough in others, but I did admire his organizational skills, his careful attention to details and the absolutely accurate way he handled his finances.

It may seem a contradiction. If you had seen my home during my growing up years, “organized” would certainly not be an adjective that would have come to mind to describe it. But if you were to visit my father’s home office, you would find everything in order to a fault. My father had everything filed and find-able. Even the instructions for the electric can opener were in my father’s files. His music was catalogued under both title of song and the artist. He kept records back to the dinosaur age. When things would get too piled up and uncontrollable, my father built drawers and shelves throughout the house to bring order back into the chaos. At one point, he was made the executive secretary to the Stake President and that office had never before been so well run and efficient. Everything he did, he did with excellence. One time when I came home from college for a visit, he showed me his financial records and said, “I can tell you how much money I have in my wallet by looking at my books.” He proceeded to show me how much his ledger said he should have, then took out his wallet and counted out that exact amount. He was amazing.

As a child, I loved to watch him build things. He was a good carpenter and, with his brothers, built the house that our family lived in from about 1956 to the time my mother died. My favorite thing that he built was a miniature table and chairs that were just right for a little girl. I spent many hours playing at that table.

Even though I can’t say that my father and I were very close, I adored him. He wasn’t home much when I was growing up. He worked for the U.S. Department of Agriculture and was out of town probably three weeks out of every four. But when he was home, I felt safe. I knew everything was under control again.

He called me into his office one time when I was in first grade. He had received my report card on which were four E’s. (In my grade school, “E” was for “Excellent,” “S” was for “Satisfactory,” and “N” was for “Needs to Improve.”) He paid me 25 cents for each of my “E’s” and that small token of his approval motivated me throughout the rest of my school days to do the best I could. This was his way of teaching me to value my education. He continued to pay me for my good grades. When I went to college (which he paid for, but for which he required us to pay him back), he would offset my debt to him by crediting my good grades in his books. By the time I graduated from Brigham Young University with a 3.71 GPA, he said I owed him nothing.

My father loved airplanes. One of his favorite things to do whenever he was in Salt Lake City, was to drive out to the airport and watch the airplanes take off and land. He had been flying a few times in small aircraft, but had never been on a commercial jet. When Wes and I were first married and had a double reception with Dariece and Don in California, we bought tickets for my parents to fly there for it. That was one of the most enjoyable things I ever got to do for my father and my thanks to Wes for making it possible.