Mom and Dad,
When I perform a quick first pass at some of my memories of
my childhood and my parents, I immediately think of random experiences that
help to mold who I am. I remember,
sitting in our formal living room in Vernal.
It was a converted garage that seemed to lack insulation as the
temperature in the winter had to have been equivalent to the outside
temperature. I remember sitting in that
room as a family and my mom playing name that tune with church songs on the
piano. I think that is a memory because
getting four boys to participate in a music inspired family home evening was
short lived.
I remember being outside in Vernal in the summer. I remember spending an hour each week doing
my portion of mowing the lawn. I either
had the side lawn (which was essentially an alfalfa field mowed down and called
lawn that was the size of a small football field – which we did use for
neighborhood football games), the front lawn, or the back lawn. I remember then spending time in the garden
pulling weeds (I remember being rewarded after a full Saturday of pulling weeds
with a root beer float/ banana split from Maesar). I also remember going up into the high
Uinta’s and cutting wood, loading the wood into the blue/white Chevy truck and
bringing it home. Saturdays were spent
cutting that wood into smaller pieces and then axing those into even smaller
pieces when needed, to feed the wood burning stove in the winter.
I remember great family trips to Canada/Montana every
summer. I don’t know how we endured
those drives with the speed limit at the time and no electronics. I don’t know how we are all still here
knowing that a couple of times we made the trip in the Chevy coffin. We essentially just laid in the back of the
truck that had a modified camper shell with a shelf that we laid on. Imagine laying down for a good 12 hours. I remember stopping at every antique store
to find old bottles and other knickknacks.
I remember trying to find every golf course within 40 miles of my
grandparents. In fact, I recall one fun
golf trip where Jamie and my Dad golfed and I did what I did best which was go
into the ponds and high grass to find golf balls. I remember one time my Dad hit a line drive
directly into a bridge. The golf ball
ricocheted and came back and knocked me down.
I remember living in Orem.
I remember weekly getting the Hamburger/French Fry and Root Beer special. I believe that the whole meal was $1 and we
ended up gorging on those weekly. I
remember great times out front playing basketball. I remember great Easter Egg Hunts and great
Christmases.
I have so many similar memories. These are just a smattering of the
feast. I remember these great times
because I had such great parents that created such great memories. I know that I always felt secure in my family
and the love that was there. I always
knew that my parents were committed to the Gospel and lived accordingly. Now that I am a parent, I can appreciate more
fully what my parents did for me. It’s
humbling to think of how I fall short of their example but still hope that I
continue to strive to be better and a better parent for my children. The legacy must live on.
Love, Joey
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