Dad loved talking to people, to the point he talked to anyone anywhere. However, he had a terrible time with names. Dad seemed to know someone everywhere we went, and if he happened to be wrong he got to know them pretty quickly. My dad loved his faith and his favorite experiences to talk about were when he got to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with others, he was brave and shameless and a terrific example of living what you believe. He loved having gospel discussions and was a deep thinker often asking tough questions. He had an entire file cabinet full of articles, scriptures etc in files relevant to topics he had studied and was constantly seeking more knowledge. He also loved science and loved to talk bugs and pathology and other subjects from my college and work experience. He was the only person who could appreciate a crazy case I had worked on or would laugh and want to know more if I texted a picture of a dog with it's eyeball popped out. He was also the only person who agreed that "preg-checking" a cow was cool.
Dad had an enormous appreciate for the freedom we enjoy in the United States and would get teary-eyed any time he talked to a war veteran, especially those who served in WW II like his own father. He admired their courage and resolve and their willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice. Despite this he couldn't get himself to shoot the squirrels living in his roof and began trapping and releasing them. He had a streak of the hypochondriac in him and several Christmas Eve's were interrupted by someone needing to go to the emergency room. Despite this, when I fell and bit through my lower lip when I was six years old, he calmly drove me to his office and stitched me up, he had complete confidence in his own field. When I had a birth mark removed in college however, he had the entire family praying for my "probable malignancy"- it was completely benign. Dad loved being with people and loved the people he worked with even if he may have been a difficult boss. He was a tough Dad too, but only because he saw our potential and expected us to reach it. He firmly believed in hard work. Growing up I remember several summers spent getting up at what seemed to be the crack of dawn to "move the wood pile" We must have moved it six times, although after we got older and busier he was content to let it sit. I think he just wanted to make us work. Most of us kids "cleaned the office" for our first job. I think Aubrey started at the age of four and got paid a whopping $1.25/hr. However, as we continued the job through high-school he took it seriously. If we didn't get the Saturday cleaning done we had to get up at four-thirty Monday morning to do it before school and patients. We were expected to be reliable but also "Keep the Sabbath Day Holy."
He liked playing a game he called "growlie bear" where we would hide in the house in the dark and whoever was the bear came to find you, when you were found you were suppose to growl. I usually hid near a bathroom since the game scared me so bad there was no guarantee I wouldn't need a potty break. I also remember his "game" of saying he was counting to ten and anything left on the floor was going to DI, he meant it. Dad was hard-nosed but ironically let the house become a party when mom was out of town. I think he just didn't know how to manage without her.
He was absolutely faithful and loved our Mom, he made sure we knew it too. Dad loved music, and as a drummer felt, "the louder the better" although he was a softy for songs like, "Lady in Red," "Wonderful Tonight," "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You," "Bridge Over Troubled Water" Etc. He always wished he had a nicer singing voice and once even asked a friend to write a love song for mom for him. Dad was also a great dancing thanks to the years of dance lessons his mother forced him to take with his younger sister. The only trouble with dancing with him was that he expected you to know how to dance too. Mom and Dad would consider it a real treat if they got to go out to dinner and dancing at "Black Angus" when we were growing up. Dad also loved any wedding with a band because it meant he got to cut loose a little. Dad also loved anything with an engine and rebuilt snowmobile trailers, mini-bikes, go-carts etc with different garage sale parts and usually a can of red spray paint. Even if it meant the edger was unusable because it's engine was now in a go-cart. He loved motorcycles and would tell us, "hands over your hearts," any time we passed a "hog" or would simply inform us, "here come the brethren." He loved riding with my mom and would proudly talk about how she was the best motorcycle passenger he knew. Since he had been riding since he was fourteen, he would know. He always said he wanted to be buried with "Harvey", his first motorcycle, and in part he was. We placed the tail-light in his casket, a shining beacon for the rest of the family to follow. Dad was never afraid to forge his own path and stay true to what he believed. So, tonight, as four German-Chocolate Cakes are baked and we remember his love and his life I say "Happy Birthday" to one of the greatest men I will ever know. I love you Dad.
