Anette and I have spent most of the past week on the road. All the traveling was complicated by the fact that we have both been sick for various periods. We started with a trip to Bear Lake for Grandpa's funeral. I got to speak as did Tom. Warren dedicated the grave. I have included my comments below.
It was interesting to me to see how little Paris has changed since I was a child. I think many of the homes might not have even had a coat of paint during that time. The weather was beautiful on the day of the funeral. We drove with the top down and I burned the top of my head.
Sunday we drove with Lindsay, Katelynn and Tagg back to Wyoming. We took one of my horses up to their house. Once we got on the road the trip was uneventful but long. Bo seems to love his new home.
While we were there we fished, went shooting, went to the nightly Cody shoot out, and visited. Yesterday we drove home with lots of construction and some thunderstorms along the way. It was good to be home and now we are looking forward to seeing Newel and his family soon.
Funeral comments:
My paternal grandfather died when I was 6, so for the past 46 years, Grandpa Kennington was my only grandfather.
For most of my youth, my family lived on the opposite side of the country so I did not get to visit my grandparents as often as I would have liked. But I spent many happy summers here in Paris visiting Grandpa and Grandma Kennington and playing with my Uncle David who was just 10 months older than me.
In the early years grandpa was still farming and ranching and I loved to help him with whatever chores he had to do. I know now that instead of being a valuable helper, I made most of his work more difficult.
I idolized my grandpa and I loved to go with him when he baled hay, or fed cows, or worked on a piece of equipment. At each yearly visit, one of the first things he would do would be to drive me to Montpelier to buy me a cowboy hat.
After my mission, while I was going to school at BYU, I visited my grandparents whenever I had the opportunity. By then grandpa was no longer working and each visit he would ask me what I wanted to do. I loved to just drive around the valley and soak in all the beautiful scenery. One time we drove up on the mountain to look for deer. Grandpa drove the truck straight to a patch of quakies on a hill side and we watched several big bucks come running out. I was always amazed that he so easily seemed to know where the wild animals would hang out.
Another time we went ice fishing and we managed to catch quite a few nice trout. Looking back now I realize that he probably wanted me along to chop the hole in the ice.
Once we spent a long day on a trip to Star Valley so he could show me where he lived, places he worked and where my mother went to grade school.
When I was growing up, people would tell me that my Grandpa was footloose. But ever since I was a small child the only place he ever lived was in this valley. I know that he loved it here, although one time about 15 years ago he told me that he might have to move because Bear Lake Valley was getting too developed for his taste. I asked him if he had someplace else in mind where he might want to go. He told me he thought perhaps he’d like to try Heber Valley east of Salt Lake City. I asked him when he’d last visited Heber Valley and he told me that it was while he was working for the CCC—probably around 1940. I told him that I traveled through Heber Valley a couple of times a year and he might be surprised to discover that it wasn’t as pristine and undeveloped as he remembered.
Grandpa didn’t leave Bear Lake Valley very often. But he came to several family events like my wedding and to the blessing of our first baby. I remember one time after such an event we were standing outside the temple and Grandpa asked me if I liked going through the temple. I told him I didn’t mind it. He told me he knew that going to the temple was going to get him into heaven some day. I said, “How do you know that, Grandpa?” He replied that he knew it because every time he went to the temple it scared the hell out of him.
Like all people, Grandpa had faults. But he also had many good qualities. One of the most notable was his generosity. At a fairly young age I learned that I could not be too complimentary about anything that Grandpa possessed or it would be given to me as a gift.
When my grandmother’s health began to fail I was a little worried because Grandpa could be crotchety and gruff and he had some pretty firm ideas about what he considered suitable work for men or for women. But I saw him tenderly help and care for my grandmother when she could no longer do many things for herself. He cooked, cleaned, and did laundry—all tasks that he would normally have classified as women’s work. But he did them because of the love and devotion he had for Naomi.
I know the past several years have been hard for Grandpa because he was held back by an aging physical body. I am happy for him now because I know he has been reunited with my grandmother, his son David, and many other loved ones and friends who preceded him into the next life.
