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Written by Elva Reynolds Nichols
September 1979
    Dad was a perfectionist in his work and at home. When he retired, he always kept everything in its place. He did odd jobs around the house to keep busy. He painted the house, varnished the floors and helped Mother with some of her chores. He kept the yard spotless, had a little garden, and his lawn was the best-kept in the neighborhood.
    He was always glad to see his family, especially the grandchildren but they had to keep their hands off things around the house that would break and keep fingermarks off the tables.
    When it was time for gifts for him, Father's Day, birthday, or Christmas, he would put off opening them as long as he could.
    He enjoyed good health and lived to be nearly eighty years of age.

Written by Aileen Reynolds Quistberg/Kvistberg
    My memories of Dad are of Salt Lake. I have little recollection of the earlier years in Ontario, Oregon. I was eight when we lived at 639 South 2nd West, and Mom would leave me with Dad so I could fix him something to eat. He would send me to the store for ice cream and cookies and that would be our meal.
    I made the most of it when Mom left me with him, because I knew he would let me do what she would not let me do. I guess you could say he gave in to me.
    My dad was not a church-going man but he certainly encouraged his children to go. Each Saturday he would shine and polish my shoes for me so they would be ready to wear Sunday morning.
    Dad's expression after eating one of Mom's meals was, "That was a splendid meal." He really enjoyed her cooking as much as the kids did.
    Dad had nicknames for his offspring. Elva he called Elb, Mardie was Mard, Myron was always referred to in person and writing as The Boy, and I was Tiny.
    Dad enjoyed listening to the radio. He especially liked the Joe Louis fights and Amos and Andy. I would watch him. He wouldn't laugh out load but quite softly and the tears would flow freely.
    There was a short time when we lived at 219 West 6th South when Dad would come home from town inebriated. He would stagger from side to side, and I was so embarrassed. I would hide behind the coal heater in the front room and cry. This didn't happen very often, thank heaven. Most of the time he gave us every reason to be proud of him.
    Christmas was a "drag" for him. He didn't care about opening his gifts. I would have to beg him to open my gift to him which was usually socks or hankies.
    After I was married and started having my family, he became very interested in the kids. He would take Carole on his knees and bounce her up and down and whistle "Turkey in the Straw". He claimed that was the only tune he knew.
    When we got our home in Rose Park, he always came down to fix things that needed fixing, including leaky taps, broken clothes lines, broken hoses, etc. He came so often that he eventually hung his striped overalls in the closet.
    He and his cousin, Bill Gardner, would come to see us quite often. I remember them coming in the winter, wading through the deep snow two blocks from the bus stop.
    He enjoyed going to parades, parks, Lagoon and canyons with the kids. He was able to do things with his grandkids that he had not done with his own kids mainly because he retired from work and he had more time. Carole, Judy, Jeanine, and Diane were fortunate to have known him. Jerri Lynn was born in 1957, two years after he died. I am sure she would have loved and respected him as all the rest did.