Mission Website

Here's the website for the mission where Rex served... Hawaii Honolulu Misson

http://www.mission.net/hawaii/honolulu/index.php

Rex's Genealogy

I've been trying to get some family history stuff together and would love any help anyone could provide.

If any Genealogy Braniacs have suggestions of what sites are the best, etc - PLEASE let me know. I've started familysearch.org and ancestry.com for free.


Email me at idispatch4911 @ gmail . com

Thanks in advance.

Keeping Up with the Twins

If you're interested....

We've made a videos & pictures blog/website for Adelyn & Chloe, Rex's Twin Granddaughters. We hope you enjoy it. Feel free to make "requests" if you can think of anything!

theSTwins.blogspot.com

Dad's 2008 Birthday Present from Heidi

Picture Slideshow

Funeral Slide Show

The family thought that it would be nice for those who were unable to attend the funeral, or for those who were unable to watch the entire slide show video at the funeral, to post it here. Rachel made this slide show from pictures of Rex through out his life.

We are sorry, but since the video is over 10 minutes long AND it contains copyrighted material (i.e., the background music)-- we can not post it on YouTube. So, Ryan was glad to host the original video on his website space so you can download and watch it on your computer. Enjoy...

(MP4 / 651 seconds / 127 MB) (Right-click here to download the video clip)

(WMV / 651 seconds / 73 MB) (Right-click here to download the video clip)

Donations

Due to a spelling error, some earlier donations could not be made. This spelling mistake has been fixed and all donations can now be accepted to the "Rex McBride Memorial Fund" at any Bank of America.

Union Democrat Obituary

Much better.

http://www.uniondemocrat.com/2009100297986/News/Obituaries/Obituaries-for-Oct-2-2009

ModBee.com Obituary

Not exactly what I had in mind, but ...

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/modestobee/obituary.aspx?n=rex-howell-mcbride&pid=133783290

Rex McBride Memorial Services

The viewing will be held on Tuesday, October 6th at 9AM, and the memorial service will be held at 10AM (PT) at the LDS Church on Dale Road in Modesto, California. [map]

Graveside service will then be held at 1PM at the Mountain Shadow Cemetery, which is located at Greenley and Lyons Bald Mountain Road in Sonora, California. [map]

In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to any Bank of America for the "Rex McBride Memorial Fund".

Thank You,
The McBride Family

10/8/09 Update: Due to a spelling error, some earlier donations could not be made. This spelling mistake has been fixed and all donations can now be accepted to the "Rex McBride Memorial Fund" at any Bank of America.

1954-2009

Rex passed away peacefully at home early Saturday morning, September 26, 2009.

A viewing and funeral services will take place in Modesto, California at the Dale Road Chapel LDS Church on Dale Road.
Graveside services will be held in Sonora, California at Mountain Shadow Cemetery.

Dates and times to be announced in the next few days.

[Updated: Sept. 29th]

Rex's Time Grows Short...

Hospice said it won't be long now: probably only a few days left. Rex's body is shutting down. It's time to just keep him comfortable and help ease him into the next life by caring for him and helping him stay calm and relaxed.

All three daughters came to visit one last time and enjoyed joking and smiling with him. We had a few special moments and some tearful prayers of thanksgiving and comfort.

Rachel has been in Sonora helping Grandma care for him. We will notify everyone when he passes and when we've set times for memorials in Modesto and Sonora, etc.

Thank you for all your help,
The McBride Family

Essay by Rex: January 2005

I correspond with a sister missionary I served with in Hawaii in the early 1970s. She is in the last months of battling a form of thyroid cancer. She's 52 , lives in Salt Lake and just got her youngest son off on a mission last Sept. This is a recent email to her.
We've had many discussions, a couple about whether it's a good idea to have our missionaries come home for funerals if things got to that point. That issue has been brought home to me since my middle daughter, Aubrey left to serve in the Ohio, Cincinnati Mission in December. Since I had a close call in September, I told Aubrey I didn't think her coming home would do any real good, would only serve to be a disruption in her momentum as a missionary and who knows maybe I'd get to see her some way anyway.
Aubrey's parting words to me were that I had to live at least 19 months so we could see each other after her mission. I laughed and told her I'd try and work that into my schedule for 2006. We had a wonderful time visiting before she left to enter the MTC.
I suspect I may have many years ahead of me. Some, miserable and some not. My attitude will be the key. Three wonderful daughters to do home repairs for down the road and unfinished genealogy could keep me here into my eighties.

Rex

---

Dear Rene',

Thought I'd 'return and report' and otherwise check in to see how you are doing. Hope you are enduring things well. Since you and your husband decided against the surgeries and anymore chemo or radiation, how are you dealing with the pain factor? Is it still in the tolerable stage? Are you staying home or are you in and out of the hospital? Is your son serving his mission, dealing well with the uncertainty of the news?

It's interesting for me that there is no relief with morphine. When Demerol was administered I accused the nursing staff of 'trying' a placebo to see if it would help instead. Several injections made no difference. I literally felt no change. Funny that the best relief I get is Vicoden and it just takes the edge off.

I entered the hospital for more chemo on the 27th of Dec. Was there until late Thursday night (9:30 PM) on the 30th. It was the roughest experience yet. The nausea was greater than ever, almost never letting up. My roommate, this time, had a different type of lymphoma and was getting a different regimen of chemo treatment. When it was meal time and the trays were brought in, he'd start right in, eating. Unfortunately, the smell from his food drove me out of the room into the hospital hallway just to get away from it. I'd get up and unplug the pump administering the chemo to me and roll the chrome stand with the plastic bags hanging from it out the door and down the hall away from the rooms. Amazing how far the stink of food will travel.

I'd push my tray away and let them take it back. Even when the anti-nausea drug was given to me it took a couple hours to feel the waves of nausea disappear. I think I picked at 3 or 4 meals in 4 days. Scrambled eggs could sometimes go down. Jello worked. And water.

Cups of coffee is a regular staple on the meal trays. Never touched it but finally thought a cup of hot chocolate might go down. I requested some on my meal order. When it arrived, there on my tray was an individual foil packet of cocoa. No hot water. No cup. That's the catholics for you. Small "c" intentional, out of respect, of course.

At least one meal a day and sometimes two meals a day has a big, steaming pile of peas on the plate ... usually spilled all over the other food items on the plate. Who serves peas for lunch? They do here. I've even been served peas on the plate with a side bowl of split pea soup or more often: veggie soup with more than a fair share of peas (I'm not kidding).
I hate peas. I've always hated peas. I'm 50 years old and I don't have to eat peas. I'm beginning to think that all those peas and lima beans my parents forced me to eat as a child may be the cause of lymphoma.

I think the catholics believe there are some curative powers in the consumption of peas. As often as peas are served, I can just imagine the loading dock at the St. Joseph's Medical Center kitchen facility. I visualize dump trucks backing up to the dock, unloading. I picture pallets, dozens of them, setting at the dock with 55 gallon drums of peas, maybe even stacked one on top of another.
I picture the kitchen help who look like Oompa Loompas (from Willy Wonka fame) driving forklifts around moving incoming shipments of peas.
Oompa Loompas, wearing respirators, safety glasses, rubber aprons, rubber gloves and hip high rubber boots are hacking the tops of the 55 gal. drums off with fireman axes and shoveling peas into stainless steel wheelbarrows. Other kitchen helpers (also Oompa Loompas) wheel the peas inside and dump them into huge vats where they are super heated to get the most out of the taste and smell.
I visualize a long service counter where more funny looking help is lined up using shovels the size used to clean out ashes in a fireplace. They are scooping big individual sized steaming piles of peas onto plates set on serving trays.
Once the peas are loaded on the plates, then the kitchen help (can you picture them?) start to see what else is supposed to be on the menu. Sometimes there's a lot. Sometimes, there's not. Since the plates are two-thirds full of peas, there is a much smaller crew finishing the plates off with condiments, etc.

One of the specialties in the dessert dept. is a biscuit, sliced in half with a piece of canned fruit on it. My description is not an exaggeration. A real biscuit. Maybe a small peach half, maybe a pear half. The top of the biscuit is positioned on top. No imagination. Barely any flavor. No real attempt to trick patients into believing it's a real honest attempt to create a dessert. After a couple of days of this kind of food service I checked the window in my room. It was bolted closed. Every one of the 7 rooms I've been in since has been bolted shut. Believe me, I've checked.
I'm certain that previous patients had attempted to escape and the maintenance dept. worked overtime to secure the facility. If there was a mass escape and everyone left ... what would they do with all those peas?

Part of this hospital building is actually 100 years old. The walls are too thick to even allow me to listen to most radio stations. The one station I can receive well is the International Catholic Radio Network. Another station I can tune in is some Jesus Saves christian station. It is a labor for me to keep a religious attitude when this stuff is being presented.


I was released on the evening of the 30th of Dec. On New Year's Eve and for the next week my life consisted of sleeping, reading, napping at my shop and one trip to the cancer clinic to get an expensive injection of Neulasta to hopefully boost my blood counts so I could fight off infections.

On Friday eve, January 7th I drove to the mountains to visit my Mom for the weekend. Figured I'd attend Sacrament with my Mom, then drive back to the valley and attend my ward in Modesto. I had big plans to get some organizing done at my shop during the week. I could work a bit, nap a bit and make the most of what was supposed to be my best week, energywise in between treatments. I was scheduled to have my last week of chemo treatment starting on the 17th of Jan.

My visit with my Mom didn't go as planned. The expected energy wasn't there. I mostly slept and Saturday night / Sunday morning was awful. I was hot, cold, sweaty and boils or other types of skin eruptions were showing up all over my body. Bruises appeared all over. Looked like I had been worked over in a street fight. Sunday evening my temperature went to 105 degrees. My Mom drove me to the local hospital ER where blood was drawn (twice to make sure) and the ER Dr. said a normal persons' white blood cell count should be in the 250,000 range. Mine was at 4000 and I needed to be hospitalized. Like in September, I had another infection that was going to take me down fast. I needed a megadose of antibiotics and a blood transfusion.
The ER Dr. said they could help with the antibiotic (which they did) but I needed a transfusion of irradiated plasma and there wasn't any in the county. The only oncologist in the county refused to see me considering my poor condition. I didn't blame him a bit. A ride by ambulance to the hospital 75 miles where the staff and info was available was my best option.
I arrived at the hospital in Stockton at almost 2 AM Monday morning. I was immediately put in isolation and for the next 2 days didn't see a human face. Just people with masks and gloves. My diet was highly restricted to some basic overcooked stuff. Sadly, peas were not restricted. In four days I received 3 plasma transfusions and loads of antibiotics every 4 hours.
I asked for a toothbrush and was refused. A brush could cause injury to the gums and create more trouble with infection. I was given a stick with a sponge on it soaked with an antibiotic agent to brush. Much care was given to the boils that had appeared. I was surprised how quickly they reversed themselves and disappeared. Now, a few days after leaving the hospital the boils are no more than scabs.
Tuesday evening, two very good friends, Rick Fairbanks and Roger Hoskins gave me a priesthood blessing. I enjoyed their visit.
Wednesday, I noticed my breathing was changing. There was an ache in my left lung and a gurgling sound as I breathed. The beginning of pneumonia. My oncologist was on vacation and out of the country but his business partner Dr. Dighi filled in very well. He said I could go home on Thursday after an afternoon dose of antibiotic. I was hoping the next round of chemo would be postponed for a week or so but Dr. Dighi said I could come back, as scheduled for the chemo plus they could keep a better eye on me for other side effects.

So, since the first week of December 2004 thru the end of my last scheduled chemotherapy treatment totaling 55 days, 21 of those days I've been in the hospital. A number of the days I've been out of the hospital have been spent driving to Dr. appointments or to labs for blood draws. I'm afraid to try to total the days in or out of the hospital since June when I started this rollercoaster ride called chemotherapy.

It's tempting to say something about being glad I followed the Word of Wisdom all these years so I could enjoy good health during my "golden years" but I won't. I'm not sure I'll live to see the 'golden years'.

I guess if, after the bone marrow rescue and transplant I recover to a fairly normal existence, I will consider this all worth it. That is, if I can enjoy a decade or so of fair health. If, on the other hand, this treatment only grinds me down and finishes me off in a couple years even with the additional need for maintenance chemo, I'll consider the experiment / gamble a failure. I'll just chalk it up to the fact that everyone is going to die from something and this happens to be the hand I was dealt. Just the normal chances I took when I agreed to this mortal life. I guess going out early with a disease is better than hanging around 2 to ten years in a rest home, unaware of anything around me like some people. Yeah, I may not like the status quo but it could be much worse. Besides, what really seems unfair is when I see the occasional four or five year old with no hair at the cancer clinic.

At least I've been able to see my kids to adulthood. A couple of friends of mine didn't even get that.

Rene', sorry if this letter seems 'down' ... it wasn't really meant to be. I genuinely hope that whatever time you have left with your family can be enjoyable, relatively pain free and you'll be able to reflect on the good experiences in your life. Ultimately, we do have a better day ahead once this mortal probation is over. At least we have that confidence.

Take care and hope to hear from you soon,

Rex

Rex's Favorite Movies

Favorite Movies

• "All Mine to Give"(1957)
• Tombstone
• Braveheart
• Jeremiah Johnson
• Gladiator
• Lonesome Dove
• any baseball movie
• The Mountain Men
• MadMax
• Escape form N.Y.
• Monte Walsh
• 300
• The300Spartans(1961)
• Gallipoli
• Breaker Morant
• ...LeeMarvin
• KurtRussell
• ClintEastwood
• MelGibson
• ErrolFlynn
• RobertRedford
• and yes
• even KevinCostner movies.

Favorite Music

• 70s
• 80s
• 90s rock
• Sarah Brightman
• Andrea Bocelli
• most classical
• celtic
• Clannad. Some country
• WaylonJennings
• JohnnyCash. Some new age. That which inspires patriotism.

Favorite Books

• The Book of Mormon
• The Corps series
• Lonesome Dove
• anything on woodworking or gardening
• self sufficiency

Essay by Rex: July 2004

Brethren,
I went to my scheduled chemotherapy treatment today, Thursday the 22nd of July, 2004. A PET scan 2 weeks ago came back with less than desirable results. I called 3 days later to find out what the scan said.
I was told over the phone by a member of the office staff that the doctor was in with a patient and put me on hold. She came back a minute later and said the results were "stable".
I asked for a definition of stable and she paused. I knew I was chatting with a "20 something" office girl who is "out of her wheelhouse" regarding anything beyond the immediate workings around the reception desk. She just repeated that 'things are stable.' I thanked her and hung up ... nicely.
Three weeks ago I had been told by Dr. Mehdi there was a chance of switching me to a new form of drug treatment because more test results came back from the May 13th biopsy.
After consulting with colleagues at UC Davis he said he was certain that they were treating the wrong cancer with the current drugs I have been getting. The PET scan would determine whether those drugs had any effect.
Well, today just prior to my scheduled chemo treatment I was supposed to see Sandra, a physician's assistant (I think). She came in, asked a couple things then said the Doctor would be right in.
Dr. Mehdi came in with a somber face. I then realized Sandra wasn't smiling like she usually did. He started right in with the fact that he'd previously said the treatment could change. Now it was certain.
I got a bit of a shock when he said I would be admitted to St. Joseph's early Monday morning for a much more aggressive form of treatment. (More Aggressive?!?) It will require 5 days of hospitalization. Then 3 weeks of recuperation and 3 to 5 more days of a stay in the hospital. This routine will repeat for 3 complete cycles.
I asked about putting it off a week because I had Scouts going to Scout Camp this next week.
He said, "No."

I don't know what things will really need to change as far as getting ready for Camp. My van and camping equipment is still available. I will just load the lanterns etc. in the van and it will be ready.
Frank is handling most of the day to day details anyway. Bro. Gary Taylor is going to be the other adult leader until Thursday night or Friday AM. Bro. Wandvik is supposed to be there Friday. I am just not sure of the Two-Deep Leadership being covered towards the end of the week.
One other detail on my van... and a warning. It has been Floyderized. This is a word I made up years ago. Floyd had me buy hundreds of $$ worth of parts to fix the A/C. It worked great for a several days. Some of those very parts flew off as I was traveling on Hwy 99 about 1,200 miles after he put them on. The A/C no longer works. I'm told he will get around to it...
Oh, and another thing. The gas gauge no longer works. Again, Floyderization. Floyd borrowed my van and cut a wire while trying to hook up lights to a trailer. Somehow the gas gauge is now always at "E". A 'fill up' will get you about 280 to 300 miles. Use the trip meter of the odometer to be safe. Rick Fairbanks, Allyssa Fairbanks and I, all have stories about not setting the trip meter. The stories always include ...being beside the road ...somewhere ...with a red plastic gas jug ... or ....wishing for a red plastic gas jug. Once again, Floyd has promised numerous times that he will attend to this very small detail when he has time.
This not a 'shot' at Floyd's mechanical skills. If I ever need work done on my huge diesel school bus or my huge diesel fire truck, he's "the man".
Unfortunately, I don't own these types of vehicles. It's the ordinary, everyday vehicles that sometimes seem to need 2 or 3 'tries' before it's exactly right. That is the pure definition of "Floyderization".
Sorry if this puts anyone in a spot. It's out of my hands. Much like the last 25 years of my life.

Rex

Rex's About Me: 8 Finger Biscuits

I have always been fascinated with woodcarving, carpentry, cabinetmaking, furniture, tools/collecting them. 3 beautiful grown daughters living in other states. Twin grand daughters. Enjoy most outdoor sports. Boating, canoeing, fishing, camping, dutch oven cooking. My blog name is because in 1981 as a journeyman carpenter I lost 2 fingers to a saw. My dutch oven specialty is large buttermilk bisquits. Making them with now only a total of 8 digits, I called them "8fingerbisquits". Why? People remember them, one way or another.

Essay by Rex: January 2003

January 28, 2003. 2:55 PM Pacific Standard Time... 3:55 PM Mountain Standard

I held my cellphone as close to my head as possible without smashing the ear shut. If I was careful, held my head a certain way while plugging the unused ear with a finger, and if no construction workers happened to start a power tool within the next few minutes, I might hear the 'ceremony' take place.

I had about 16 hours notice via phone call from my baby, my 18 year old daughter Heidi, engaged for about 3 months to Nathan, an 18 year old, unemployed Catholic from Missouri. They had decided to move up their wedding day from June to January. Since it is at least a 10 hour drive in the best of conditions and with such short notice, I said I wouldn't be attending. I asked if there was "a bun in the oven." No? Good.
I would say that neither of my other 2 daughters were "overjoyed" at their younger sister's decision ... OR taste. My "ex" who I have nicknamed "Hurricane" for obvious reasons, apparently wasn't too thrilled either. Funny that her whole reason to move to Utah was to be around a better society of people with better standards. Oh, and to get away from me. Amazing that with all the Mormons in town, my daughter picks a Catholic, a backsliding one at that. I did get a bit of satisfaction when I sent Hurricane a rare email saying, "We are reaping what we have sown. Hope you are happy."

I was insulated from all the preliminary ceremonial stuff except for several phone updates from Rachel and ultimately assisting with the funding of the festivities.
There had been a frenzy of activity to pull this 'quickie' off. Getting a license, lining up a Justice of the Peace, going to a few places to get some decorations, refreshments, a cake. This event appeared to have the surprise of an elopement with all the hassles of a real, planned wedding. Just condensed down into several hours' time. Eliminate most of the guest list ... and voila ... two 18 year old kids who don't know a thing about life other than sensing the rage of hormones would soon be "one" in holy matrimony.

At the other end of the call, Rachel, my eldest daughter was pulling double duty by being Maid of Honor and holding the cellphone. If she was close enough to the Justice of the Peace the chances of me "being there" were greatly improved. Of course a mental image would have helped so Rachel served as my "color" commentator.
She said the blessed event, [scheduled for 4:00 PM Mountain Standard Time and taking place on January 28, 2003] was at the Justice's St. George, Utah home in the living room. He was wearing an official looking robe and because of his advanced age was standing in front of his 'walker'.
Those attending were the bride, Heidi, age 18, and the groom, Nathan, age 18 and currently/chronically unemployed. Debbie and Gary Elder, parents of the groom. "Hurricane" Carson, mother of the bride. Others in attendance: Rachel (Maid of Honor) and Aubrey, the bride's sisters. The groom's Best Man, Kaden, age 17 (and thus being a minor, unable to sign the papers as a witness. He HAS been able to 'witness' some hecka cool skateboard tricks done by the groom though.)
Also attending was Christy, the groom's sister and her significant other, Anna. Don't ask. Of the 4 younger adopted siblings of the groom, the two youngest, adolescent girls, were there. The two mid-teen boys are both currently in Detention, a.k.a. Juvenile Hall or they would have gladly attended.
It was like some bad TV commercial where a cellular phone service provider is trying to promote it's service as if "It's almost like being there!" In my head I could almost hear a crappy, upbeat music jingle. I could imagine the TV screen showing 'homey' surroundings, flower arrangements, lot's of smiling faces of family and friends. There would be a general excitement in passing around a phone so everyone can "participate", and a soul satisfying contentment felt by all. A Norman Rockwell moment, really...
Promptly at 4:00 PM the Justice of the Peace began. I could hear a distinguished baritone voice with that southern Utah twang in it. The man had probably performed dozens or hundreds of these ceremonies. Some probably within the walls of the House of the Lord a few blocks away. He spoke the words one normally hears at such informal occasions and offered some counsel and advice.
The "I Do's" were completed, then a kiss. The time was now 4:07 PM. I heard some sniffling sounds and figured it was allergy season in the High Desert. I could tell there was hugging and other stuff going on.
I stood by my tablesaw trying to realize that my youngest daughter was now married and that I was going to take a step back from her life and let her wobble off on her own as if she were on a two wheel bicycle for the first time. Now someone else was at her side.
A bitter disappointment came to mind because I knew I hadn't really been by her side for over 9 years. I wasn't allowed. Even when I really tried to be there in one way or another, obstacles were thrown in front of me. It will take a lifetime to sort it out in my head and heart. I will still try. That is all I can think to do. Only now, she has an additional resource (I sincerely hope) in Nathan. Maybe the two of them will be good for each other.
I was still on the phone listening to a family milestone event that normally is filled with joy, emotion and imprints itself in one's mind for all time. Rachel handed the phone to Heidi and I congratulated her and told her I loved her. She told me she was so happy and that she loved me too. I knew she meant it because for over nine years I had not heard it from her. For over nine years when I would say it to her upon a departure or at the end of a phone call, there was no response, in kind. For most of those years even getting her to come to the phone was near impossible. When they announced their engagement in late September we had a long chat and she finally said it. Since she waited so long I knew it was not a phrase she just tossed around lightly.
Later there was a small reception at the "House that Hurricane Built." In addition to those already mentioned, Heidi's Grandparents showed up and a couple other friends. Rachel told me later that she saw Nathan's sister Christy and her significant other, Anna in a quick "lip lock" on the couch at the reception at Hurricane's house. Ah, romance is in the air...
Nothing like a wedding to make everyone all mushy inside ... and especially so close to St. Valentine's Day.

Rachel suggested an ending to this essay and I thought it was perfect.

"Blank VHS tape: $3.00
Bouquet of fresh daisies: $25.00
Refreshments for 20: $76.00
Cake: $35.00
One Night Honeymoon including a Personal Chef: $185.00
Knowing your 18 year old daughter isn't pregnant and getting married anyway: PRICELESS.

From the Horse's Mouth....

Got a text (or seven) from Dad today:

Yeah, it's weird to wake up at 3am with my oxygen up on my forehead. I didn't adjust it back. Woke up again at 6am still no oxygen. None at all today. Waiting to see. Is it me adjusting to the increase of Lasix diuretic? That old idea of ...'hey, if some is good, more is better.' ??

(I asked if he increased the diuretic himself or if the doctor/hospice nurse suggested it.)

I increased it myself but it was mentioned that it could be done without any trouble. I decided to give it a try. Fluid retention seemed to be the 'problem' anyway. I'm looking for some relief from enlarged abdomen on the right side. It pushes my pants down, and with the wieght loss, there's no butt to help hold pants up. So, the next step is suspenders or overalls again. Still no oxygean as of 6:30pm but laying back makes me consider it.

Essay by Rex: February 2003

Midweek my parents came to town to have lunch and asked me to meet them there. Seems my Dad had watched so many TV commercials about "baby back ribs" he couldn't deny himself any longer. I knew I was going to be a bit late so I asked Mom to order me a large salad.

Oh, Pah-leeeze...

Don't think I've gone "gay" or anything by ordering a salad ... but since I have almost no ability to taste food resulting from the recent radiation treatments, there's no sense in me ordering something I ...WISH... I could enjoy.



There is a 10 year age difference between my parents. My dad is a bent, shriveled old geezer with a collection of canes, crutches, wheelchairs and electric scooters. He is staring at being 80 in a couple of years. His decrepit appearance matches his overall sour attitude and selfish outlook on life. I know him to have taken a rather casual approach to being a provider during the productive years. He has a very bad heart condition now which prevents him from 'tinkering' like he used to but allows him to fine tune the art of napping.

My Mom, on the other hand is an energetic, outgoing, fun woman who's nearing 70. There is no doubt who has put forth all the effort and made the marriage work all these years. She still takes good care of the ol' man but she works as a nurse just to get out of the house. Sort of a work release program during her life sentence.

At the end of our meal, my Mom excused herself to go to the Ladies Room. My Dad, who sometimes seems to be "losin' it, upstairs", leaned over to me and asked,

"Is her birthday this month or next month?" Hmm... A vague flicker of memory.

"It was LAST MONTH." I answered. I had reminded him of that fact once or twice before the actual date hoping on an outside chance, he would surprise her with some thoughtful gift or dinner out.

"Oh. Well... I guess I don't have to do anything then.", he said. He then changed the subject to his latest car trouble woes.

Forty-nine years, eleven months and about 20 days ago they had married in front of a Justice of the Peace. I came along 16 months later.

My siblings and I were planning a surprise Golden Wedding Anniversary celebration for the following Sunday. Lots of guests, lots of refreshments, lots of running errands and making calls. My sister, her husband and my brother were doing most of the set up. We, in fact, were doing it for Mom. Fifty years together and my Mom should be given some sort of Gold Medal for putting up with this incredibly thoughtless 'hump' I was sitting beside. He's my Dad and I love him but 49 and a half of those years should be credited to my Mom for reaching the milestone.



All three of my daughters came from Utah for the occasion and my youngest daughter brought her new acquisition... a husband, along. This was going to be a chance for me to get to know this kid that I am trying to learn to call a 'son-in-law'. He is 18, unemployed and still wet behind the ears, so I had yet to be sold on him as a "keeper".

If he was just a boyfriend, I would have crossed my fingers and pray my daughter would be fickle and soon lose interest in him. Maybe she would wait and find some guy with some "sand". A young guy with some substance. Maybe a guy who was in an apprenticeship program somewhere, or the military, or maybe going to college. But, all that wishing and hoping evaporated when she chose to marry him. On short notice.

Lowell Slade tried to comfort me by saying that I didn't have to live with him, SHE did. I really pondered those words ... looking everywhere for even a scrap of comfort.

Rick Fairbanks and I were considering our daughters and their futures once when he said something to the effect that it seemed singularly important that a young man who married a daughter should be considerate and treat her well, above all else. Not an earth shattering conclusion to arrive at but a significant, vital point to keep in mind.



I had a couple of conversations by phone with my new 'son-in-law' early on about him applying himself, working at any available job to discover what he really enjoyed doing which could turn into a career. I wasn't sure how much headway I made.

When I was 18, I was working 60 hours a week at an asbestos plant, saving money for a 2 year mission for my church. I didn't marry until I was 25 and a journeyman carpenter. I held off mentioning that I had walked to school everyday of my youth in waist deep snow, uphill, both ways. Figured I'd save the tough luck stories and other good stuff for later.

While the girls and Nathan were here in town I showed them around, taking in the sights of Modesto and it's surroundings. A trip to San Francisco and Fisherman's Wharf was a highlight. At one point, my cellphone rang and the call was Nathan's Mom in St. George. I handed over the phone and wandered off to look at something. A couple of minutes later I returned to see tears running down Heidi's face as she leaned toward Nathan who was still on the phone. She was really upset. He looked a bit concerned at what he was learning from the phone call. I asked what the problem was and heard Heidi's dog had been hit by a car earlier that day. The call ended and I saw Nathan filling Heidi in on the details.

What I saw next was something which elevated my opinion of this goofy 18 year old 'son-in-law'. He put his arms around Heidi and was comforting her and letting her know the dog would be all right inspite of a trip to the Vet and the loss of two toes on one paw. He helped wipe her tears with a napkin from the lunch we had eaten.

He could have acted like a Mr. Tough-Guy, say it was just a dog and brush off Heidi's concerns. Or, be like me and start griping about a Vet bill awaiting them upon their return, but he didn't. He briefly let us know what was going on and then focused on his wife and her fears.

Heck, maybe he is a 'Keeper'.

Letter from Dad: February 2005

Well Girls,
It's Sunday evening, I'm at Fairbanks and it has been quite a day!
At 6:30 this morning, someone stole my diesel van from in front of my
shop (the old shop). I heard it start up and they , he or whoever...
drove away just as I was running out the door with my 9mm locked and
loaded. I saw the rear of the van go around the corner of the building.
If I'd been even 5 seconds faster, I'd have been able to drill a couple
of holes in my van just for the fun of it. Or maybe even give the thief
something to remember me by. Anyway, I called 911 on the pay phone up by
the sandwich shop since my cell phone was out of charge. The sheriff's
Office located the van a couple hours later and had it towed. I won't get
to see what was stolen out of it until tomorrow. I'll have to pay $175
for the tow which was only a couple miles but being the victim of a theft
is only the beginning of victimization, I've learned. The thief nails you
then the law cause some grief with tow fees and paperwork. Lastly,
insurance usually gouges you after the fact some how. That is before I
even begin to learn about all the things missing. That is always a long
slow process. Well, I love all 3 of you. Take care and when I get my phone
charged up and can be in contact with you each, I will. Happy Valentine's
Day! I was going to try to send something to each of you but now the funds
will have to go to get my van out of the storage compound. Aubrey, I'll
write you. And will hopefully chat with Rachel and HEidi on the phone soon.
I go to UC Davis on Wednesday at 2PM. Gma may go along. Love you.
Later, dAd