Our Memories- The Call Children

We were lucky to have Grandpa and Grandma down the street from us. Grandpa was everywhere. He was a part of our everyday lives and we his. He could be found in the background of our parties, graduations, weddings and holidays. He was there to meet our friends, our spouses and our children. He was there to wave hello as we passed his house. He was there to watch us grow from children to adults.

Grandpa would trek up the street to our house bearing gifts. The gifts he commonly brought were bones for our dogs and car magazines for Adam and Jed. He would come to observe life at our house and would usually inspect the latest project car in the garage. He shared his love of cars with Adam and Jed.

Grandpa would call and tell us the latest news stories or warn us of whatever accidents were happening that day. The phone calls were always short and without hello's or goodbyes but nevertheless filled with concern and love for us. We all loved Grandpa's telephone calls.

The grass was always greener at Grandpa's house. Grandpa's lawn was a thing of beauty. Green all year long, no matter the current drought status. Grandpa took pride in his yard. Whether it was planning his latest attack on those pesky deer, or the precise way he bagged his leaves, Grandpa found enjoyment in keeping his yard beautiful. He may have even found enjoyment in scaring Grandma when he would bring out his ladder. It was quite a sight seeing a man in his 80's on his roof trying to clean the gutters or trim the trees. He was young at heart and wouldn't leave that ladder alone. Before long we were instructed to take the ladder. Every time we saw Grandpa after that we were questioned as to the whereabouts of his precious ladder.

Looking back we realize that there isn't just one memory that stands out more than the other. We have memories of him standing on the porch blowing his conch shell. We remember the way he dressed at church, always dapper and polished. We remember his smile and the twinkle in his eye, especially as he was telling a joke. Most of all we remember the Grandpa who loved us and was everywhere.

Gilbert Nihart's Life Story as Dictated to Dorothy Nihart.

Tammy's Remarks at the Funeral

(Tammy’s part in the funeral program with my best effort at remembering the extra things I said.) 

Mom and Gil discussed the words to the song that Rebekah just sang on their final day together.

I have been asked to read a tribute that was written for Gilbert by my mom while he was still alive. Before I do, I would like to share a few memories that Nathan and Beverly’s remarks reminded me of.

First, I must have been visiting with Mom and Gil after I was married because I remember Gilbert coming home and saying that he was disappointed that they were advancing him to the office of High Priest because he wanted to stay with the young guys.

When Mom and Gil moved next door to us, five years ago, I tried to get them involved in our Senior Citizens Program. We have a nice Senior Citizen Center in Springville and they have a lot of activities there but Mom and Gil said that they didn’t want to go and hang out with a lot of old people. The only time they ever attended an event at the center was when Rebekah and a group of high school students were performing some musical numbers there. They went to see Rebekah.

Gilbert loved music and when he was in the nursing home we would go to visit him. (He wasn’t happy in the nursing home and we tried to bring him home to live with us. He was really unhappy living with us so we ended up taking him back to the nursing home. He wasn’t happy with us because he wanted to be with Mom. While he was living with us, he couldn’t remember if he had eaten lunch or that Mom lived right next door but he managed to give Elizabeth some pertinent advice on a problem she was having with a friend, compliment my decorating, and call me from a back room to see a flower that was blooming in my garden.) Anyway, we would visit him in the nursing home and we would often sing songs or play musical instruments. Gilbert enjoyed that so much and would invite the other residents to come and listen and he would introduce us as, “this is part of my bunch”.

Gilbert made me laugh and I wanted to share one of those times that I remember. After they moved next door, he would tell me every day that I was “a pretty good girl”. One day last summer (the summer of ’08) we were driving somewhere. It was just Gilbert and I in the car and he told me I was a good girl. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, that he was really studying me. After he had looked me over for a long time he said, “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but you’re not a girl anymore. In fact, you’re getting kind of old.” I told him, “I know. I’m a grandma now.” And he said, “You are? Well, that’s just wonderful!” It made me laugh.

Now I will read a tribute written to Gilbert from my mother. 

WHY I LOVED YOU 

Let me count the ways:

In the beginning: You dressed nice, always wore a white shirt and tie even at school. You drove a big expensive car. You took me to nice places to eat, like the Bali Hai and Lawrence Welk’s Resort restaurant. But most of all you didn’t drink or smoke.

As soon as I knew you, you began to help me at my work. You made sure I got the equipment I needed. You were very respected in the district and knew all the right people. (You were so loved in the town that when you retired they held a three day Farewell celebration for you with a huge banner across main street saying, “GILBERT NIHART DAYS”. Your picture and a write up was in the paper. All the children made paper ties to wear in your honor.)

Then we were married and you made it possible for me to have my own home again. You had good credit, a down payment and a good job.

You made sure I always had a reliable car to drive. It was always gassed up and ready to go.

You made it possible for me to visit my mother and kids in Utah every summer. You could drive all day and never get sleepy. You always knew places to go and things to do.

You planted a garden with fruit trees and flowers. You built me a covered patio. You painted the house and kept things repaired. You bought me roses.

You made sure your children and everyone else knew that I was number one in your life.

You had been a Methodist Minister, but you went to my church. You joined and worked to marry me in the Temple. You have been a good member ever since.

When I had night classes at the universities to earn my California Life Credential you drove me there and waited ‘til my classes were out to drive me home.

You took care of me when I had cancer and you made me feel OK about it. You were so scared of losing me and loved me even more afterward.

You didn’t quit when I would have given up. You changed what you could to make it work.

Every day you tell me you love me and you call me your Earthly Angel.

This is some of why I love you.

Dorothy 

(I asked Mom, after the funeral, when she wrote this and she said it was part of a family home evening activity we did a few years ago where Rebekah had us write a letter to someone we love.) 

Nathan doesn’t want to try to remember and write up the extra remarks he made while he was reading Gilbert’s life history. He said that he mentioned how much he enjoyed Gilbert’s stories—especially his experiences as a civilian in the Air Force. And he said that Gil was not “quickly advanced” to the office of a High Priest but was still in the Elder’s Quorum when we got married making him probably the oldest active Elder in the history of the church.

Memories of Grandpa by Tiffani Makely

I have been waiting for a time to really sit down and remember and ponder my thoughts of Grandpa,but it just hasn't happened maybe because having 6 kids life is just busy. So, I guess this moment will have to do. Here is what I remember and will miss.

I am not sure if any one besides Amy and I were fortunate to go on an extended trip with Grandpa and Grandma, but when Amy and I were 10 they took us on a road trip to Canada. What lucky girls we were to be able to spend that time with them. He was so good at keeping sane with two crazy girls in tow.

To me it seems kinda ironic that Grandpa passes so close to General Conference weekend. Some of my favorite memories are of going to San Diego to watch conference with them. Grandpa loved to show us his clocks and help us stomp on the snails in the garden.

My family and I were fortunate to live close enough to accompany my mom for several 4th of July celebrations at The Lake of the Pines. I loved eating dinner and then walking down to the lake to watch the show. I miss it every year. My son Malachi remembers Grandpa's last 4th of July in CA. We were eating dinner and Grandpa told Malachi that the both of them weren't allowed to eat jello because Grandma would be mad if they dropped it on the carpet. Malachi being young didn't quite get the humor and was saddened. He had Jello.
Faith went to Daniel and Jennifer's receptions a few years ago and she recalls Grandpa telling her "Come over here we don't want to talk with those old people".
Gill was a wonderful Grandpa, I always knew he loved me. I am sorry I couldn't come to the funeral. I will miss him.

For Grandma

Grandma asked me to post the lyrics to "O Divine Redeemer," which she mentioned she would like to have. She especially liked the part that says "remember not, O Lord, my sins."

O Divine Redeemer lyrics

Ah, turn me not away, receive me though unworthy.
Ah, turn me not away, receive me though unworthy.
Hear Thou my cry, hear Thou my cry,
Behold, Lord, my distress!

Answer me from Thy throne,
Haste Thee, Lord, to mine aid!
Thy pity show in my deep anguish, Thy pity show in my deep anguish.
Let not the sword of vengeance smite me,
Though righteous Thine anger, O Lord!

Shield me in danger, O regard me!
On Thee, Lord, alone will I call!

O divine Redeemer, O divine Redeemer!
I pray thee grant me pardon, And remember not
Remember not my sins!
Forgive me!

O divine Redeemer! I pray Thee, grant me pardon
And remember not, remember not, O Lord, my sins!

Night gathers round my soul
Fearful, I cry to Thee,
Come to mine aid, O Lord!
Haste Thee, Lord, haste to help me!

Hear my cry, hear my cry
Save me, Lord in Thy mercy;
Hear my cry, hear my cry!
Come and save me, O Lord!

O divine Redeemer! O divine Redeemer!
I pray Thee, grant me pardon, and remember not
Remember not, O Lord, my sins!

Save in the day of retribution
From death shield Thou me, O my God!
O divine Redeemer, have mercy!
Help me Savior!

Memories of Gil/Dad/Grandpa Nihart

By Beverly Call, Step-Daughter

The following is a copy of the memories of Gil/Dad/Grandpa given at his funeral, Oct. 2, 2009. In the opening remarks thanked the grandchildren for the impromptu singing of “Amazing Grace.” This was only a fraction of Gil’s grandchildren representing their willingness to show their respects in honor of him. Acknowledgement was also given to Tom, Gil’s oldest son, who had traveled a really long distance to be present, and to Tom’s daughter, Victoria (grand-daughter) who was at her father’s side.

Apologies were expressed for my inability to include all the wonderful memories submitted to the blog with admonishment for others to take the time to read those accounts directly. As I tried to extrapolate memories from the blog, I found that I was losing the richness of each individual tribute. And so, I chose to speak primarily from my own memories.

When someone passes, we seem to want to express the significance of their life in a way that we can each claim a special place in it. I was reading the grandchildren’s bolgs and realized that we all own a piece of Grandpa and that he owned a bit of us too. I wonder what wonderful stories he is now relating to his loved ones about us as we share stories of him.

I too have a special claim to him, for perhaps, I was the first one of Mom’s children to open the door and let him into our lives.

Mom was going on a date with a mysterious man whose identity she refused to divulge, but I knew whoever this person was, he must be magical, since Mom wasn’t crying any more and she seemed to be anticipating his arrival in a way that gave life to her step and a smile back to her face. This was my mom - she had been lost for such a long time.

I opened the door to a slender, chiseled featured, ‘Marlboro Man’, with slicked down hair, and gleaming eyes. His voice was gentle with overtones of laughter intertwined between his words. He energetically patted the dog, said something about his cockapoo and his children and whisked mom away. There was an unmistakable attraction between them, and I liked him. In a matter of minutes, he had come and gone, leaving unseen vibrations behind that breathed new life into our home.

I have called him Gil for most of my life. I loved him because he was my mother’s husband. I loved him because he came into our life when we so desperately needed him. I loved him because he was authentic and full of surprises. I loved him because he loved our mother and in turn us because we were hers. Our children knew him as their grandfather. He sent flowers when we gave birth, attended birthdays, weddings, and took trips with us and our children.

When Mom and Gil married, he brought one heirloom clock, wrapped in a towel, as his soul contribution to the household. He soon discovered that Mom loved clocks and the home was eventually filled with clocks counting out the moments punctuated by melodic chiming orchestrating the days they spent together. I was rarely with Gil without Mom. They would come to visit together, eat together, went to work together. If it weren’t for the times he’d roar off in his supped up car stating “See ya in the funny papers,” they would have never been apart.

After Mom retired, they moved several doors down from me, where for the next nineteen years, I had time to get to know him even better. To me, Gil was a study of contradiction and extremes. I never knew when he would want to take me aside to see the roses in bloom, marvel at a fruit ladened tree or hear something horrific on the news. He could be complementary saying sweet things like “I thought you were an Angel”, or rack my nerves with dire predictions that my trees were about to fall on my house and I could lose my job.

He wasn’t one for pretentious conversation; He loved to tell a good story and even loved it more if Mom would embellish it. In his later years, he loved to listen while mom talked on the phone. She would say some outlandish remark about what Gil had done today and you would hear him denying every word of it, while chuckling in the background, reviling in the attention and proud to have once again managed to get her hackles up.

When they were together there was laughter, sometimes childlike sparring, mixed with quiet romantic moments. Gil courted her with flowers, cards, and yes loves letters, which continued throughout the years. He enjoyed her decorating (except the twin beds) declaring “There goes my love life”. He also enjoyed her music, her cooking, her writing, and even liked her to “decorate” her face. He would go shopping with her and wait outside the stores patiently for hours while she tried on clothes. He would be visibly disappointed if she didn’t make a purchase. He loved to retell about how he had surprised her with tickets to Hawaii - with less than a day to get ready and to the airport. She never knew what car he would be bringing home, but she knew it would be reliable and she could count on him to keep it serviced. One memory that stands out in my mind is Gil lugging two large hot pink suitcases down the front porch stairs bragging “My woman sure knows how to dress.” He never complained about Mom being a women and he seemed to really enjoy her feminine company.

Five years ago, I traveled one more time with Gil and Mom to Gil’s final home here on earth. Here he has been surrounded by love, attention, and care.

Although Gil recently lived mostly in the moment, and was unable to recall much of the past, he never tired of learning about his surroundings and what was going on. He especially enjoyed following the evening news, the 2008 campaign/elections, and watching Lawrence Whelk reruns. To Gil, television was an event to be shared and enjoyed with others.

Only the thoughts most deeply etched in his memory would surface from time to time. His strong work ethic and desire to be self-sufficient was expressed after 9/11 when Gil wondered if he should sign up again with the air force to help our country; He thought the extra income would help with the finances. About a year ago, he inquired as to how they were able to live and thought he should be working. Mom reminded him that he had worked most of his life and now was retired. This summer he started to confuse his children and thought I was Kathy, his only daughter. He was overjoyed to see her again. It was a fleeting moment, and he was saddened to be told that it was me. I think it should bring great joy to his children to know how deeply they were imprinted in his heart and in his mind.

Gil was a believer. He believed in God. He believed in the goodness of life. A meal was never eaten with out “Giving Thanks”. He asked for blessings for those less fortunate, and he blessed the hands that prepared the food. He was grateful for the little things. He believed in the power of one. He personally wrote the President when he felt the government was running amuck. He dedicated time and money into compiling his best sermons into printed pamphlets and then stood outside of the grocery store and handed them all out. When I asked him “why?” He stated he felt prompted to do so.

When he retired from teaching, a banner was stretched across the street declaring Mr. Nihart Days and all the students wore paper ties in his honor. At my ten-year Ramona High School Reunion, when my former classmates heard that my mother had married Mr. Nihart, I was practically mobbed by them - many declaring him their favorite teacher. He believed he could make a difference in the lives of others, and I believe he was right.

I realize now that it was not Gil who was extreme and sometimes contradictory, but life. Gil showed an array of feelings and emotions as easily as a child. He was able to embraced life’s extremes – sunset/sunrise, summer/winter, season after season, year after year, spanning nearly a century. He never gave up on wanting a new adventure or the chance to relive an old one.

About a week ago, he wanted to go somewhere, to “get out of this place”. So mom and Gil took their last journey together. With words, Mom painted a visual image and Gil followed along. They took Highway 6 to Bishop and stopped at Whisky Creek Inn for dinner. Bought pastries and milk at the World Famous Shepherds Bakery to take to the hotel and eat in bed while watching T.V. On the way home, they contemplated stopping off to visit Laura and Dave, but Gil said “I just want to go home,” and he fell asleep to thoughts of going home. Mom returned to his side two more times, and it was on the last visit that she told him to not wait for her here, but to go on and she would come. She didn’t know it at the time – but he was getting his wish. He was going home.

He packed light and leaves behind memories of the conch shell, whistling, runner’s shoes, big brimmed hats, beautiful gardens and lawns, fast cars, airplanes, fruit stands, trucking, teaching, the best Texas grapefruits, giant sized aluminum wrapped moth balls - to ward off deer, ladders, chain saws, roofing, desert cactus, romantic poetry and music. Family Home Evenings where he was the worlds best Button-Button hider, silver mines, [early morning breakfast at the Diner], nose tweaks, and so much more: A wife, and children that can all proudly call him “Dad”, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

My thoughts are too full to express all the funny, fun times I’ve enjoyed with him, but I will try to write them down on the blog.

In the meantime, if there is one thing I wish to say it would be – Thanks Dad, Thanks for sharing your life with all of us. Thanks for loving us. Most of all, thanks for loving Mom, and thanks for being you.

Pictures

Here are some of the photos I took at the funeral on Saturday. It was a lovely service that was permeated with a tremendous sense of peace, love, and unity.
These photos are solely from the graveside dedication as I was unable to take photos during the chapel service and forgot to bring my camera to the luncheon afterward. They are in no particular order.

Tribute to Gilbert Nihart, My Step-Father

Gilbert loved our Mother. From the first time he saw her, he set out to win her and to mend her broken heart. He gave her back laughter and trust and security. And he gave us back our happy Mom.

 He delighted in delighting her.

Underneath his masculine and sometimes gruff exterior beat the heart of a true romantic. He loved to bring Mom gifts and surprises. He started out with anonymous flowers and valentines sneaked into her car and mailbox. He would come home with tickets to a concert or Hawaii, all on short notice. She loved clocks, so he filled their home with clocks. When the hour would strike, clocks would bong and cuckoo everywhere! Once he gave her a brand new house for a surprise.

Best of all he gave Mom his whole heart.

When he was too old to drive and get a gift for Mom on his own he conspired with Jessica to go around the neighborhood and gather lilacs and other flowers for her .

He loved fast cars like trans ams and gto's and on any given Saturday he might bring home a new one home to surprise Mom. When his boys were growing up he helped them put Chrysler engines in the back seat of Volkswagons to race. When Adam and Jed were growing he would be over in their garage after school everyday as they built cars. He called them "his boys" "My boys would like to order now he would say."

As I looked through our family photo albums I was surprised to see how much he was there and how many places and things we did that we would not even have discovered without him. He took our family to Yellowstone in his camper van. Then he sold us the van and got another one and we went to Yosemite and El Capitain State beach near Santa Barbara and Solvang, the Grapevine and the goldmining towns, like Nevada City, Grand Island and the Tetons and Stuart Falls at Sundance.

Every year we went to Disneyland and Knottsberry farm. The first time he took us through both parks in one day and back to San Diego before bed! As soon as he got you somewhere, he wanted to go again. Knottsberry farm was his favorite and he wasn't about to let Disneyland best it. He like the old goldmining town atmosphere there. Somewhere in his seventies he began to sit more on what we called Gil's $30.00 bench in the park on Disneyland Main Street. That was the price of admission then and he would spend the afternoon and early evening there coordinating my older teenage children so they could come and go on their own. They loved it!

He gave us gifts too. He sent me a dozen red roses in the hospital when I had Amy. One year he greeted Randall and I with tickets to "On a Clear Day" with Robert Goulet . He took us to dinner at Lawrence Welk's place in the hills above San Diego. He's the only man who ever told me I was doing a good job with my driving. I would love him just for that. He sent "Writer's Digest" to me one year because he knew I wanted to write.

Gil mentored and supported Mom's school teaching career. He shared her passion and talent for teaching children. Yesterday she ordered one more flower wreath in a heart shape that will say simply "Mr. Nihart." She said that is how she knew him first. She told me that as the newest teacher, she got all the "bad eggs." And when they were too disruptive she was to send them down to Mr. Nihart, the Principal. She told me that when Gil retired after thirty years of teaching' the town of Ramona had "Mr. Nihart Days" for three days with a banner across the street. The kids made paper ties to wear, because he always wore a white shirt and tie.

Gil and Mom loved to set out on adventures together. They would go up the coast to the Madonna Inn for dinner and a night away or they might go all the way to the Big Sur or up to Julian in the hills above San Diego for dinner or Trolley Junction in the Sierra Nevadas. He got Mom to all the baby blessing, baptisms and weddings in Utah.

Because we were hers he became involved in our lives.

Just a few days ago she said "Gil if you will open your mouth and eat a little, where would you like to go? Why don't we go up Highway 6 to Bishop and the Whiskey Creek Inn for dinner? And after dinner we will go to the world famous Shepard's Bakery and get some of those pastries and milk to take up to our room at the hotel and eat in bed."  He said he would like that and took a few more sips of liquid.

Last summer we were all impressed when Elizabeth and Daniel his grandchildren gave him a flight for his birthday. At the airport while we stood around to discuss how to get this feeble man up over the wing and into the cockpit, he seemed to throw away his cane and hop up into the pilot's seat and put the headset on.

When he came down he appeared to be a much younger version of the man who went up. He saluted us and said "Praise the Lord". Then his eyes filled with tears at the sheer joy of it. After that he looked for Mother.

Gilbert tomorrow we salute you.

Kealohi's Memory of Grandpa Gil

I remember when I was visiting Grandpa Gil last year. I was telling him about some boy trouble I was having. I showed him pictures of me and the boy that I wanted to get back together with. I will always remember because Grandpa Gil said straight out in an enthusiastic voice "Well, let's go get him!" He was so adorable!

The Stories

All of my favorite memories of Grandpa involve his endless cache of stories. I don't remember a day with him when he wasn't telling us about one of the adventures in his life. Somehow i remember each one getting more elaborate every time he told it, and we loved it that way.

He'd always start with something like, "Have I told you about the time that I..." or, "That reminds me of the time that I..."; The time he fought off a bear in Yellowstone park, drove a car down the steps of a public library, learned how to swim by being thrown into a creek, flew through a hurricane in his airplane, won a school spelling bee but gave the trophy to his girlfriend and never saw it again, taught a lesson to a naughty boy at school, found stolen money inside a student's shoe...the list goes on and on.

I loved going over to his house and playing their old piano. The sound of it was awful, but Grandpa would always clap and clap and make me feel like a true celebrity. Every once in while, when he particularly enjoyed a piece, he'd tell me he'd heard a "blue note" so that I'd have to play it again. ;)

His sense of humor was unbeatable, and we'd see it come out at the most unexpected times. One time while reading scriptures as a family we came across this bit that mentioned "their hair being white and their hands spotted with age" or something, and Grandpa started examining his own hands with horror and touching his hair as if he'd just discovered it'd turned white. :D haha!

Once he told us a story that we'd never heard before. Surprised, we asked him where it'd come from. Without missing a beat he rapped himself on the head and said, "Every once in a while I just shake it up and see what comes out!"

Then there was the time that we were up at Uncle George's house in Alpine. It was just a couple years ago, and right during the time that Grandpa was (supposedly) starting to lose his memory and Grandma was always talking about it, worrying about it with everyone. Grandpa and I were sitting in the backyard swapping stories and suddenly grandma came out of the house and walked past us. Grandpa said, "I am sure a lucky fellow to have that woman". I agreed, and then he said, "There's just one problem...."

"What?"

He winked at me, "She thinks I have Alzheimer's."

Every time I'd ask him how old he was he'd always answer somewhere between the range of 18 and 28. and you know what? I could easily believe him. That man was timeless.

When I was living in NY and I got a letter from Grandma and she'd written, "I asked Grandpa if there was anything he wanted to tell you and he said, 'Tell her to get married and all her troubles will be over!'" I'll work on that Grandpa, but it will never be the same without you dancing at my wedding like you'd promised.

I love you Grandpa

I don't have many good pictures of Grandpa, but I thought he looked so tender in this one as he gazed down at his grandson, Daniel. Judging by the ages of us kids, it must have been taken in about 1987.
There are so many little things I remember about Grandpa...
~ The way he would get up early in the morning in Lake of the Pines and go around feeding dogs, or blowing his conch shell to scare the deer away from his garden
~ His amazing ability to cup his hands and blow and make music come out. He was patient enough to teach me when I was younger, but I couldn't make the melody trill the way he could. I was always fascinated by that.
~ Grandpa's silly side. He was always calling us kids"Twinkle toes" or "Little boy blue" and he loved to knock on the table and tell us to go answer the door. With really little kids, he'd meow or tickle their toes. My mom has one of my favorite pictures of Grandpa: he's holding a little umbrella that my sister received for a Christmas present, and prancing around under it in a very silly way!
~ His love of music and poetry. When Grandpa was getting quite old, I remember several times when some aspect of the conversation reminded him of a poem. He'd enthusiastically quote a line from it (or what he remembered of the line) and I wish I knew what he was quoting from. If anyone knows any of his favorite poems, let me know! I think there was one about "a golden boy with eyes of blue" or something like that. I also remember how Rebekah would play Amazing Grace on the piano and he would sing along, each time acting like the song was something new and wonderful.
I'm sure many more memories will come to the surface over the next few days, but this is it for now. I love you Grandpa.

Grandpa's Shoes

Most of my memories of Grandpa Gil involve his running shoes. As a little girl, I thought it was the greatest thing that my Grandpa didn’t wear old codger shoes and shuffle around being cranky. He was vibrant, full of life, laughter and mischief; and in my memory he was always wearing running shoes, going at top speed, and urging the rest of us to keep up.

I remember trying to keep up with Grandpa and his running shoes as we walked through Disneyland, Alpine, historic Folsom, and Lake of the Pines. I remember tagging along behind him and his running shoes as he worked around his house, tended the garden, and did his best to thwart those pesky deer. I remember following him and those running shoes with anticipation as he showed me where to look for the tiny frogs around their yard that fascinated me so much.

Those shoes have become for me a symbol of Grandpa’s energy, of his delight in life, love, and humor, and his eagerness to experience and share. They represent his wonderful ability to take us places, show us things, and to keep us laughing along the way.

I also have many other cherished memories of Grandpa Gil that don’t involve those shoes: the countless times he pulled the “got your nose” gag on me; his continual joking and ribbing; the way he would end the night saying “I’m goin’ upstairs to warsh ma teeth!”; the way he would greet me each day by declaring “Good morning, sunshine!”; and later on in life when his memory began to fade, the way he would refer to me as “the one who sings,” which always made me feel loved and recognized even though he could no longer remember my name.

My most recent memories are of Christmas Eve family dinners and visits to his care center with my husband and son. I treasure those opportunities to spend just a little more time with him and to give David and Rhys a chance to get to know him as well; seeing the gleam return to his eye during a lucid moment; hearing him and Grandma giggle and tease each other with their heads bent together; watching his eyes well up with tears, causing my own to do the same, as I sang to him a few precious last times.

All of these wonderful memories I have of Grandpa Gil will stay with me forever, but I believe my favorite ones, the ones that will remind me to do my best to keep up with the amazing person he was, will be my memories of Grandpa’s shoes.

Farewell and much love Grandpa, until we meet again. You faithfully completed your mission on this earth, and left behind some pretty remarkable tracks for all of us to follow

Grandpa enjoying the music at his 98th birthday party

My Grandpa Gil

My first vivid memory of Grandpa Gil that I have was when I was a small child, probably 9 years or so after he and Grandma got married. They lived in California so we only got to see them once or twice a year. I looked so forward to those visits. At first he seemed so elusive to me, a new grandpa to get to know. I was very drawn to him and wanted him to love me. I would follow him around and ask him to do things and listen to things, but he was very busy visiting with the grown ups and didn't seem to have much time to get to know me. I observed that he was gone every morning when I got up. Pretty close to stalking him I guess! I waited until he got back and asked him where he had been. He made some comment about it being none of my business with a grin in the corner of his mouth. I asked again anyway and he told me that he went to breakfast every morning. I thought great! My ticket to alone time with him! I asked if I could come and he said no, because I wouldn't be able to get up that early. That was that until, I got up at 5:30 am and sat on the front porch waiting for him! At about 6 am he came out and looked at me with surprise, then grinned, and said "come on, let's go!" Grandpa Gil took me to a breakfast diner and bought me pancakes and juice. He read his paper and we talked. I felt so special and knew that I had gained a little respect from him that day. After that our friendship began to grow.

Later when I was 12, Grandma and Grandpa invited Tiffany Crum and I to go to Canada with them. That trip is very dear to my heart. I was able to get to know my Grandpa even more and see how much he loved my Grandma. He made her laugh and treated her like a princess. Tiff and I loved every minute.

The last few years I was lucky enough to have Grandma and Grandpa move to Utah. We were able to have Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners together, birthday parties and BBQ's. Grandpa always had a joke to tell or a story. My children love him as I do. He was so strong and lived an amazing life. On his birthday last year, he helped pilot an airplane one last time. My family and I were not at the airport but waiting in the same town, in my yard watching the sky. We got the call that he was headed our way and the kids starting jumping up and down. They were so proud of him! We heard the engine and he raced over our heads as we waved and shouted to him. What a guy!

Yesterday, Grandpa took a different kind of flight back to his eternal home, after he served almost a 100 year mission here on earth. Grandpa, I love you. I hope you are enjoying your friends and family that you have missed. I hope you have your own jet in a private hanger and that your next adventure will be just as grand. Don't forget to leave the porch light on for the rest of us.

A Few of My Favorite Things...

Wow, I guess I get to be first by virtue of the time difference between Utah and London.

These are few of my favorite things about Grandpa:
-As Kris (Babb) says, he was full of joy and energy.
-He would ask about my life in Houston and would then go on to tell me one story or another from when he lived there as a young man.
-The picture of him from when he was a minister, I would look at that and imagine being back in time. I would have liked to see how his community responded to him, I'm sure he was held in high regard. What a classy man.
-You could see the love between he and Grandma, caught in a quick glance or as they would hold hands on a walk. He treated her with a tender sweetness.
-His bird calls and the farewells he would play on his conch shells as we would leave their house.

-He was such a teaser and particularly loved to tease Grandma.

In his final years, he would often have a hard time remembering who I was but the very last time I saw him, at Christmas, he knew me. As Grandma, Brent and I sat talking, Grandpa just sat there smiling, lost in his own memories, when he all of a sudden said (in reference to Grandma who was fresh out of the shower with no make-up on or her hair done) "You know, she's a very beautiful woman...when she tries" and then rolled with laughter at himself. His sense of humor was so light and loving. That is the Grandpa I will remember.

Please give each other hugs from me at his service this weekend. I will look forward to hearing all about it.