Fishing
I never really acquired a love for fishing, but that didn't stop dad from trying to share his love of the sport with me. I think he loved to fish because his dad, Thurman A. Gardner, loved to fish and passed it on to him. I suspect, but can't be sure, that he wanted to pass the love of this sport on to his own children. In my case, it didn't take.
I can remember learning about all of the various pieces of fishing equipment, organizing my own tackle box, and even practicing casting with my very own fishing pole but when it came time to climb out of a nice warm bed at o'dark thirty in the morning and drive to the lake I was less than enthusiastic.
We often fished in Aspen Mirror lake in southern Utah while on vacation to our high mountain cabin. Those mornings were soooo cold! The water was cold, the wind was cold, and even the squirmy, slimy, worms were cold. Dad would help me bait my hooks because I was too squeamish to touch those slimy things myself. I'd cast and then wait. If I was lucky, I'd catch a fish and dad would be there to coach and help me reel it in. That was the only fun part ... the fight with the fish. Grabbing the fish, killing it, and then removing the hook were activities that I forced myself to do, but cleaning the fish was just too much for me. I let dad or Darrell do it for me. Dad didn't seem to mind though and was always willing to get the job done. We went fishing alot when I was younger, but I think my lack of enthusiasm for the sport may have dampened some of his and so he looked for other things to enjoy with his boys.
Photography
In our basement, adjacent to the bedroom that Darrell and I shared for many years, was a small room, a little larger than a storage closet, that we called the darkroom. Over time boxes accumulated and space grew narrower and narrower. One day, while exploring the contents of the boxes in the darkroom I discovered some photographic equipment: enlarger, photographic print dryer, chemicals for developing film, and everything else you needed to setup a full photographic darkroom. I was excited. This stuff was much cooler that the seemingly countless shoe boxes of electronic parts (resistors, capacitors, transitors, tubes, and etc.) that filled many of the shelves.
I asked dad about the equipment and he started teaching me about what it takes to develop a roll of photographic film and make prints using the enlarger and dryer. It wasn't long before the darkroom got cleaned up, with dad's help, and I began developing film and making black and white enlargements and prints. I spent hours in that darkroom with only the dim light of single red photo-safe bulb. My friends thought it was cool too. Although dad had no doubt enjoyed this himself in earlier years, he was content to let me explore the world of photography on my own.
Swimming
Dad could swim and I now only dimly recall some good times with the family in the warm and salty waters of Crystal Springs in Idaho, but it was a rare occurrence when he would gather the family for a swim outing. So I suspect that swimming wasn't his favorite thing to do either. That did not stop him from encouraging us to swim.
As a young boy, mom and dad encouraged us to try different things. I decided to try out for the little league baseball team. I hadn't really played before, except for some rousing family home evening games of back-yard baseball. In those games, dad made me feel like I was a super star in the sport. The day came for little-league try-outs and I was asked by the coach what position I'd like to play. Naturally, I suggested that I should be the pitcher. I don't recall whether or not I even got to try pitching, but I do remember the disappointment I felt as I trudged out to the outfield. I only lasted one practice and then called it quits. That wasn't a satisfactory response for mom and dad so they tried something else.
One day Darrell and I were playing in the back-yard, as was often the case, and we were called in to speak with mom and dad. They suggested that we might want to try out for the swimming team. I don't think we were too excited about the idea. Darrell and I had taken swimming lessons already and didn't have any particular desire to do more there than was needful. Then they sweetened the pot by promising us a "GI-Joe" action figure. Now that was exciting!!! GI-Joe was one of the coolest toys and neither of us had one. We suddenly changed our minds and accepted the offer. So we started swimming for the Brigham City swimming team and I didn't stop swimming until after I graduated from high school. I swam almost 10 years for a GI-Joe action figure! All through those years, mom was the one that drove us to and from practices and attended my swimming meets. Dad would come when he could but that didn't happen often. Mom was the one at my most triumphant swimming meet ... regional championships my senior year of high school. Dad's roll in all of this swimming was more of a supportive one and less of a participative one. Eventually I learned to enjoy swimming and it is still a big part of my life. Thanks dad and mom for the introduction to swimming.
Boating
Since we were swimmers, it was only natural to enjoy all of the other water sports ... skin-diving, water-skiing, and boating. Dad was there encouraging us all along the way, and in this arena it was a big way. Dad bought a boat! It was used and needed a lot of work, but it would pull a water skier and that's all we cared about. I remember taking the Coast Guard Auxiliary boating safety course with dad so that we could operate the boat safely and in accordance with the rules. Dad helped us repair and refurbish the interior and exterior. At times, I think the boat was used more to teach us how to work rather than to enjoy water recreational activities. It didn't matter to us, we could clearly see the reward for our work when it was all done. We spent many weekends on the waters of Willard Bay, Mantua Reservoir, and even once up to Bear Lake. After getting my driver's license, I recall taking the boat out to Willard Bay with my friends. Those were good times and Dad enjoyed them with us.
Go-Carts and Dune Buggies
I was too young to drive but already had tasted its fruits. Sometimes dad would let us "steer" the car on our trips down to southern Utah. We sat next to him as he carefully supervised our attempts to keep the car on the road and in the right lane. Once I even got to drive the car a few feet while at High Haven, our cabin. This was cool! There was a feeling of liberation, freedom, and power that I hadn't experienced with my bicycle.
I was excited to drive and it didn't seem to matter what. I just liked it. In order to satisfy our desire to driver, my friends and I built our own lawn-mower-engine powered go-cart. The frame was made from 2x4's. Dad took us to Smith and Edward's War Surplus store to find some wheels. Because the cart was made from wood it was bigger and heavier than its steel framed commercial counterparts, but we didn't care. We could walk it the two blocks to the church parking lot and then roar around to our heart's content. This phase didn't last long ... wooden frames can't take alot of abuse. Dad supported and helped us solve some engineering design issues, but this was largely a kid thing.
As we got older our desire for a better go-cart turned into a desire for a dune buggy. This was something that we simply didn't have the means to manage. That's where dad came to the rescue. He helped us buy an old VW back-end and then helped us to get a dune-buggy steel frame welded together. I think he had a friend that did the work for us and I don't know what it cost, but we were sure grateful for this little bit of heaven in our lives. A few trips to the auto-salvage yards enabled us to find a front end, steering wheel and other needed parts. The engine never did run very well and I only remember taking our prized dune-buggy up into the foothills a couple of times. All those girls that we'd thought we'd attract because of our cool dune-buggy never materialized. I don't think dad even drove the thing, even after all the time and resources he contributed. He just shared in our excitement and our dream.
Computers
Dad had both a bachelor's and master's degree in electrical engineering. He worked at Thiokol, near Brigham City, UT, for some years developing test equipment for the rockets. Eventually, he was laid off when Thiokol's operations were cut back and was unemployed for many months. I don't remember how long, but things were very tight in our home during that period. He was Bishop of our ward at the time and we were living on our food storage. Eventually he was able to hire on at Hill AFB, UT and became a manager for maintaining/upgrading software for the Minuteman missile. Some of his work projects involved letting contracts for developing computer hardware and software. This brought him deeply into the world of computing and he enjoyed his work. He often would bring home computer components and try to share some of the amazing inventions happening in that world. I'm not sure that we displayed much enthusiasm for his work. That's typical I think, at least that was the case in my own family. It was enough to know that dad had a job and was providing for the family.
Eventually, my own path would embrace the world of computers as I earned a Bachelor's degree in Computer Science and a Master's degree in Computer Systems. In fact, dad was the one that suggested I take a FORTRAN class as a freshman at BYU. It didn't take. I dropped the class in frustration and continued pursuing my degree in Physics. Eventually I came to enjoy working more with computers than trying to solve incomprehensible physics equations. I changed my major, with dad's support and consultation. After retiring from the Air Force, I landed a job at Sandia National Laboratories as a software engineer and can appreciate, now, the work that dad must have been involved with in his work at Hill AFB. We share an abiding interest in the technologies and wonders of the computer world.
Woodworking
Dad had a shop with lots of woodworking tools and he know how to use them well. He was meticulous about his work and as far as I can tell, his projects in cabinetry, seemed to work out better than my own. He enjoyed making things and providing some of our necessities with his own hands and ingenuity. I suppose that I really got interested in wood working when the appropriate motivation surfaced.
I had shared a room with Darrell for many years and wanted a room of my own. Our home was modest and there wasn't much room for expansion, but dad and mom figured out a way for me to section off a small portion of the downstairs family room for a place of my own. It wasn't big. There was enough room for an army cot on one side and a desk and closet/dresser on the other. There was barely enough room between the desk and the cot for me to pull out and sit in a chair at the desk. We didn't have a dresser so dad decided to build one for me. He involved me in every aspect of the work: design, construction, finishing. I was motivated to build something that I needed. Here is where I really began to learn and enjoy the working with wood and discovering how to make things on my own.
I have my own small wood shop today ... a section in our garage, that recently I've come to call the "cave of wonders." It's a place to wonder at things such as: why isn't this square, how am I ever going to fix that, how come this piece is too short, or long, why doesn't this fit, and a million other such questions which are cause to wonder. I don't think dad had this problem in his shop. He was meticulous. He thought and planned things out ... to the last detail. Sometimes this dragged on to the point of shear boredom for me (like watching paint dry), but at least when his projects were completed there wasn't much to "wonder" about. We both shared in this enjoyment for wood working although we rarely had a chance to really engage on a common project together. That didn't seem to matter though, there was always the thrill of finding the next cool tool and sharing what we'd found. When it came to birthday presents, we both enjoyed offerings from the world of tools.
Flying
If there is one thing that dad did love to do, it was flying and this he succeeded in passing on to me. At last there was something that we both loved. I can remember him telling me the stories of his youth and the excitement he shared with some of his friends in learning to fly. He told of the challenges of learning to fly the piper-cub a tandem tail dragger. In the video we took of dad the summer before he died he told of the airplane crash that he was involved in with his friend and pilot, Garth Beechum. That was a close call but it didn't dampen his desire to fly. He eventually joined the Air Force and went to undergraduate pilot training. He learned to fly the PT-19, T-6 Texan, T-28, and eventually the Lockheed T-33 Shooting Star (shown below).
I can remember him telling me stories of his flying days when I was a young boy. Instead of telling fairy tale bedtime stories he often substituted stories about his flying. These did not serve to help me sleep. Instead, I was wide awake with keen interest. One story in particular was exciting to me because it was exciting for him ... an aircraft emergency.
He was flying the T-33 with his instructor over the Grand Canyon in Arizona. They were flying at about 30,000 feet when their engine flamed out and they could not get it restarted. Dad was worried about where to find a place for an emergency landing but the instructor calmly pointed out that the from that height and the excellent gliding properties of the T-33 they could glide all the way back to their airfield at Williams AFB, southest of Phoenix. They setup their max endurance glide and made it back to Williams with plenty of altitude to spare. They landed safely. I was relieved.
I was never able to get the full story about dad's flying career in the Air Force. What he told me once was that he graduated near the end of the Korean War and there was a surplus of pilots. The Air Force would only allow him to fly for one year if he agreed to sign up for an additional four years. He wasn't willing to take this deal so he ended up in Korea as a communications officer. In 1998 I ended up in Korea myself while on TDY for an exercise and explored some of the same areas in which dad served.
With all of the other activities that I was engaged with, the flying bug did not bite until I was a junior in high-school. My friend told me about a good deal at the Ogden airport where you could actually fly a small plane with an instructor for 1/2 hour. They called it an introductory ride and it only cost $5. Dad agreed to take me to the airport and let me try. After the flight I was hooked and wanted to fly in the worst way. And just like every other thing that I wanted to do, dad was able to support and encourage me to do it. I think he remembered how exciting it was for him to fly as a youth and wanted me to have some of the same experiences. This activity was something that both of us were equally excited about ... something we could both share. I started taking lessons and dad found a way to use some of the GI-bill benefits to fund his own lessons. He began working on his own flight ratings while I worked on my private pilot license. Eventually he earned his commercial, instrument, and instructor licenses and was very proud of these. I would follow in his footsteps, join the Air Force and become a fighter pilot flying the F-4G Wild Weasel.
One of the poems that we both lived and loved is called "High Flight". It seems fitting to include it in this section.
Summary
I know this is a long entry, but the more I write, the more things I seem to remember in which dad supported my interests and desires. There's more to tell. I hope that in all of this rambling you'll begin to see what I discovered. Dad loved his family and our joys and successes were his. It wasn't solely a matter of him teaching and sharing with us the things that he enjoyed, but rather learning and sharing with us the things that we enjoyed and helped to shape us into the individuals that we have become. I believe that one of the hallmarks of dad's life was his unselfishness and love for his family. He showed his love for us by encouraging, supporting and sharing in our lives. Thanks dad for such an illuminating example.
I can remember him telling me stories of his flying days when I was a young boy. Instead of telling fairy tale bedtime stories he often substituted stories about his flying. These did not serve to help me sleep. Instead, I was wide awake with keen interest. One story in particular was exciting to me because it was exciting for him ... an aircraft emergency.
He was flying the T-33 with his instructor over the Grand Canyon in Arizona. They were flying at about 30,000 feet when their engine flamed out and they could not get it restarted. Dad was worried about where to find a place for an emergency landing but the instructor calmly pointed out that the from that height and the excellent gliding properties of the T-33 they could glide all the way back to their airfield at Williams AFB, southest of Phoenix. They setup their max endurance glide and made it back to Williams with plenty of altitude to spare. They landed safely. I was relieved.
I was never able to get the full story about dad's flying career in the Air Force. What he told me once was that he graduated near the end of the Korean War and there was a surplus of pilots. The Air Force would only allow him to fly for one year if he agreed to sign up for an additional four years. He wasn't willing to take this deal so he ended up in Korea as a communications officer. In 1998 I ended up in Korea myself while on TDY for an exercise and explored some of the same areas in which dad served.
With all of the other activities that I was engaged with, the flying bug did not bite until I was a junior in high-school. My friend told me about a good deal at the Ogden airport where you could actually fly a small plane with an instructor for 1/2 hour. They called it an introductory ride and it only cost $5. Dad agreed to take me to the airport and let me try. After the flight I was hooked and wanted to fly in the worst way. And just like every other thing that I wanted to do, dad was able to support and encourage me to do it. I think he remembered how exciting it was for him to fly as a youth and wanted me to have some of the same experiences. This activity was something that both of us were equally excited about ... something we could both share. I started taking lessons and dad found a way to use some of the GI-bill benefits to fund his own lessons. He began working on his own flight ratings while I worked on my private pilot license. Eventually he earned his commercial, instrument, and instructor licenses and was very proud of these. I would follow in his footsteps, join the Air Force and become a fighter pilot flying the F-4G Wild Weasel.
One of the poems that we both lived and loved is called "High Flight". It seems fitting to include it in this section.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941
Summary
I know this is a long entry, but the more I write, the more things I seem to remember in which dad supported my interests and desires. There's more to tell. I hope that in all of this rambling you'll begin to see what I discovered. Dad loved his family and our joys and successes were his. It wasn't solely a matter of him teaching and sharing with us the things that he enjoyed, but rather learning and sharing with us the things that we enjoyed and helped to shape us into the individuals that we have become. I believe that one of the hallmarks of dad's life was his unselfishness and love for his family. He showed his love for us by encouraging, supporting and sharing in our lives. Thanks dad for such an illuminating example.
