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TREASURED MOMENTS WITH DAD

The way you made me feel so special and grown-up on our father/daughter dates….I’ll never forget listening to “Sweet Home Alabama” on the jukebox at Natale’s over pizza or your making me laugh when you sang “You get no bread with one meatball” over dinner at Nash’s, as we relaxed back in one of my favorite booths.

Singing in the car every chance we got….I loved hearing you sing and singing with you. Your hits, as far as I was concerned, were things like “Streets of Laredo,” “The Cover of the Rolling Stone,” and the one about the girl who was “cross-eyed and crazy.” I may have been too young to understand what the songs meant, but they helped foster my love of singing by myself and as a family.

The two special fun vacations we took, just for the two of us. When you took me to Nashville, you made my dream come true. The cruise set a high ideal for my favorite vacation and one I long to do again. I keep remembering the beauty of Nassau—the clear ocean, the wonderful pastel houses, the gorgeous flowers. It was beautiful, and I loved feeling that you loved me enough to share such special vacations with me.

The magical Christmases you and Mom created for us—singing Christmas songs around the piano the night before and then on Christmas morning dashing downstairs to see Santa’s deliveries and finding a warm, glowing fire and radiant, sparkling Christmas tree. I will always treasure the warmth and beauty of those Christmases.

Even though we hated (and made fun endlessly of) some of our chores—especially those involving rocks–you and Mom laid a firm foundation for a very strong work ethic that is so valuable now and always.

The attempts you made to introduce me to the Church when you were always convinced that the attempt just wasn’t quite right…. I remember the gist of your comment when you took us to church the first time and realized you had forgotten it was Fast and Testimony Sunday. You thought we would hate it, but I actually heard at least one person say things that I could really relate to. The same goes for your apologies about taking us to church when the branch was meeting in the Johnson Home. I think you were afraid I would hate it because we were out on the porch (screened-in, possibly?), and the speakers were in a different room, but I love historic houses so much that that added to the special warmth I started feeling towards the Church (although wouldn’t admit for many years after that).

Dad—there are so many wonderful memories I have of you that I can’t name them all, but know that you helped create a loving home that showed me the importance of family, a home I want to pattern my own after, and the special importance of a father who believes in, and sees the best in, his children and tries to help them realize that “anything is possible” when we dream and reach for the stars.

I love you, Dad!

Monica Boulden Young, Fathers Day, 2010


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