In an almost prophetic manner, I didn’t realize how true this was until I attended the funeral services. Each of the stories highlights so many of the same traits I see in my own father. The expression “Like father, like son” could never be truer.
Support for the women in his life
I remember one instance as a teenager that my father and I were heading back from the airport. My memory has failed me on the details, but the message, years later, hasn’t been forgotten. In words as plain as day, he expressed how much he loved my mother. And he meant it. When we had agreed to marry her years earlier, he said “for better or for worse” and nothing would ever change that. He didn’t try to paint the rose colored picture. He explained that there were moments that seemed to lean towards the “for worse,” but they were always outweighed by the days that were “for better.”
Art of Expression
At the funeral service, my dad recollected one of his favorite stories from his childhood where Grandpa Knick gave him tickets. When he asked where they were going, he didn’t get his answer until he was standing inside the baseball stadium, home to the Phillies.
- When we got in trouble and tried to blame our actions on another, “Well, if your friend told you to stick your head in a bucket of fire, would you?" or "Two wrongs do NOT equal a right."
- At the dinner table, eating any detested vegetable, with at the time, was broccoli. “It’s good for you; it’ll put hair on your chest!” It didn’t matter if you were a boy or a girl… He also said the same of sardines & anchovies, which my mother detested. But I remember sitting on his lap and eating them as a kid, and thought they were great. As an adult, a have a different opinion.
Educational Pursuits
My Dad mentioned how Grandpa Knick wasn't perfect but was human. Yet he had installed in him how to work hard and go after what you want -- and was always his number one supporter. He worked hard to support his family, compelling his employer, subsidiary of Tylenol[AC3] , to accept him for a position even though he hadn’t yet completed college. For the next 12+ years, he worked during the day and took college courses at night until he finally received his college degree. It was at the same time my dad had graduated from high school.
My dad's no different - he has always supported me in all my ambitions. In college, I can only imagine how hard it was to have me leave thousands of miles away to BYU. Unlike my mother, who couldn't ever get past the distance, he was my number one sounding board and supporter, whether it was the weekly calls, the voice of reason, or helping out when I was dirt poor. I knew they didn’t have the financial resources at the time, but he still helped spot me when I was at my wits end. It wasn’t a lot, but enough. And 5 years later when I was done, he was the first one on the plane to see me walk across the stage with diplomas in hand. In 5 years, I had graduated magna cum laude and had completed both bachelors and master degree. There have been few times I’ve seen him prouder.
Whether it was teaching my how to play my first game of cribbage before I was old enough to read, weaving in trips to historical museums into every family vacation [Mount Rushmore, Liberty Bell & Independence Hall, Truman Library, Kirtland, Nauvoo, etc], or the subtle yet understood expectation that college was the only alternative, my father passed along a love of knowledge.
In work, I learned from my dad how hard work can go a long way, and I’ve been well compensated and taken care of as a result, on the fast track to promotions while still balancing the hectic demands of being a wife and a mother.
It’s not just the secular knowledge and wisdom I’ve learned from my father, but his solid testimony in the gospel of Jesus Christ. As a substitute for my seminary class, he argued the ethical dilemma of finding a dime in the pay phone machine. Really, a dime!! In every ward we’ve been in, one way or another, he’s ended up with his favorite calling, Gospel Doctrine Teacher. He makes the scriptures come alive and relates them to your personal lives…you just hope you’re not the subject matter.
Disciplinarian
I often remember my dad recollecting a story from his own childhood. He was pouring himself a bowl of Cheerios. He thought he was sprinkling them with sugar, but had mistakenly used salt. He tried to spit out his first bite, but his father insisted that he finish his bowl. His father was a strict disciplinarian. I’m sure this is where my dad coined the phrase “if you take it, you eat it.”
As a young child, I remembered being afraid of my dad, mostly because I was always getting in trouble. I had a big mouth and thought I knew everything. Oftentimes, I learned life’s lessons the hard way, only after getting my mouth washed out with soap, receiving spankings, or having to eat much detested vegetables, such as like broccoli.
I, of course, learned the hard way and remember first- hand what it was like to get my mouth washed out with soap. One time in particular I was accompanying my dad to help someone move. They were moving several large furniture items into a storage unit, and I was convinced they were going to be stuck after backing up a huge couch in the corner. I was yelling and screaming, telling him he better be careful or he is going to get stuck. Of course, my dad tried to explain that he knew what he was doing and that he wasn’t going to get stuck. I insisted and pursued, and my dad warned me. I remember trying to convince my dad of all my pure intentions of trying to look after his own safety, but it was too late. I had misspoken to an adult and there would be consequences. Growing up, he taught us to respect our elders and not talk back to them.
If my dad said something, he always followed through. When he left for work and said, “Your room better be clean when I get home or you’ll be grounded,” it was wise to clean your room. And if we didn’t, well, there’d be repercussions. We children quickly learned when Dad talked, you followed. And if you didn’t like it, go beg Mom for mercy.
During the day when Dad was at work, we thought we could get away with murder. My mom, on the other hand, couldn’t hurt a fly. She was always so nice and gave in so easily to our pleadings. My mom was emotional and thought with her heart. My dad, on the other hand, was logical and viewed the world in which it was black and white with only one “right” answer, and it would be different than my “interpretation” of my actions. When we pushed my mom over the limit, however, she quickly learned that she would only have to say the words “Just wait until I tell Dad when he gets home.”
When I thought he was being unfair, he’d simple respond with very little emotion “you had it coming.” He’d remind us we had received fair warning and our actions resulted in the consequence; he didn’t just make up the rules as he went along. As a kid, I learned things the hard way. But I learned them.
My dad is one of the most purely ethical people I know. Not just is a religious sense, but professional sense as well. He always did the right thing. He followed through when he had given his word. It wasn’t just at home when disciplining us kids, it applied to the whole sphere at work, church, community, everywhere.
In his old age, he’s become quite the softy, rather than the firm, immovable father I remembered as a child. Because of it, he can deal with life’s tender mercies. He never misses a moment, sending a birthday card or just checking when life’s storms seem to hit. Sometimes it’s the small things, like asking how I’m doing. And when I respond, “Anthony and I are doing great” or “Tanner is just adorable”, he quickly jumps in, “I didn’t ask about them. I asked about you.” He always makes a point of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room, wrapping you in a hug and asking how you’re doing, trying not to get chocked up after a long awaited visit.
I owe much of my life’s accomplishment to my father. The best complement someone could give me would be to tell me I’m my father’s daughter. This is always how I view myself.
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