happy father's day

When I was 3 years old and we lived in Denver, my Dad worked long hours for one of the big accounting firms. I remember going to work with him once or twice - late at night in my pajamas, and laying on a blanket at his work while he worked into the late hours of the night- but he came home for dinner so he could see me and Benji and help us get ready for bed. The few times I got to go back to work with him must have been very exciting, because I still remember them.My dad loves babies.

When I was in elementary school, he would sweep and mop the floor every night, after we were supposed to be in bed. I remember, because I would get out of bed for "drinks of water"
My family was camping in Eagar when I was about 9, and we went fishing. My mom took the little kids back to the camp, but I got to stay and go fishing with my Dad and just me, and we kept catching Craw-dads. Which are gross. But I felt cool. And grown-up.

My dad taught me to knit. He showed me how to make slippers and then finished up the hard parts for me. He had rheumatic fever when he was a very young boy and back then the doctors made people with that disease stay in bed. He was bored so my granny showed him how to knit, and he made some beautiful things when he was 8 that are now family treasures. I got into quilting a while back, and he'll come and help you think through a quilt, and look at it and make you feel like it's cool, too.


My freshman year of college, he was literally an angel in my life. He occasionally had to be in Utah for business that year and I don't know how he magically knew my schedule, but he just happened to show up and be there at some very significant times, that were really an answer to prayers.

He's laughs at my jokes and makes me feel clever and witty and worthwhile and important, and he'll listen when things aren't great, and give blessings and pray for me, and he's a nice level practical voice, who can stay unemotional and logical, and yet understanding and encouraging and compassionate.

He is an optimist.
He drives around a truck that says POORICH on the license plate - a gift from my mom. It was supposed to be a play on his name - Rich. Like poor rich, only the r's are combined. But it looks kind of like poo rich or poor itch.

He doesn't really sing or dance, but he loves to listen to singing and dancing, and to watch plays, and he's come to my performances, and puts his brain and thought into it. Once he came to a rehearsal for South Pacific, and told me a day or so later "I've been thinking about this, and that scene where Nellie.... it seems to me that she might be feeling more sad than mad. It's not really my area of expertise, but you might want to think about incorporating that...." And it was just what the scene needed, and so darling that he would have that on his mind for a few days, and try to figure it out, and tell me about it.

He does nice things, like coming out when there are groceries to be unloaded, or car-seats to be moved, or dishes to be done, or gas tanks to be filled up. He sort of quietly appears on the scene when those things need to be done, and magically does them without you even really realizing he's done them.


Just last Sunday morning I was in Alpine and scrambling to get down to Provo for 8:30 am church. My dad was up before I was, preparing his Sunday School lesson. I made it to the car, and he had pulled it out and started it for me. When I got in the car, there was breakfast on the front seat, which he had made for me. I think it says a lot about his habits that I wasn't really surprised that he had done this, because I'm used to him being thoughtful like that, but I was grateful, and it made my morning go a lot more smoothly, and I got to church on time.
He'll do things like get out of bed at midnight and go look for the screams of "wounded animals" with me, and then not care when it turns out to be just healthy croaking toads in our pond.

Went to my brother Ben's house for Family Home Evening and a BBQ a few weeks ago. Here's what I saw:

My brother and my Dad, after a busy work day, and with still a million things to do, down on their hands and knees on the family room floor with the illustrated scriptures open, teaching Cameron about Ammon like it was the most important thing they could possibly be doing. There's my brother, teaching his little boy, and my dad there, up close, a quiet watchful presence, watching his son teach his son. That little boy is awfully lucky to have a Dad and a Grandpa like that.

Whose fun for the night is a rousing game of Motorboat - the FHE "activity"

Grateful for him.

Grateful for the other Fathers in my life that I get to observe regularly

My brother Ben who is such a great daddy and works so hard to take care of his little family.And for Andrew, who is so sweet with those little nephews and who I watch already developing those qualities that will make him a wonderful father.

For Dan, my cousin Sadie's new husband, who has taken on Ean and Aiden and Cole like it is the most natural yet important thing in the world, and who I observed being just the cutest with them and with Sadie. We all love you, Dan. And we are all excited for Olive Leigh (that's my vote, anyway :))

For the men I date and associate with who are uplifting to be around, who I see fulfilling priesthood responsibilities and who make me want to be a better person.

And for the fathers-in-bud, aka my nephews, who are daily learning things that will determine what kind of fathers they will be:
Happy Father's Day!
Love you love you love you.