He was a Doctor, Outdoorsman, Cowboy, and Rancher, but I Called Him Dad

From January 8

At the time of a loved one’s death we are left with memories. We might have photographs, letters, and in this age, digital recordings of our loved one. The most personal possessions we have, though, are the memories we carry. Memories are not small things. They are not like the vapors rising from some cold spring that fade away with the heat of the sun. Memories, instead, are priceless treasures that are meant be shared, linking us to the one who has passed and to each other.

I know that Dad loved me. I benefitted from his love and guidance starting as a young child and continuing throughout my life. And although many will remember Dad as strong and tough cowboy or as a dedicated and tireless doctor, I will remember and will choose to cherish my memories of him as a tender father who both cared for me and taught me many lessons that I still use today.

One such lesson was this: the expression of love for one’s children is important. To that end, Dad would hug me as a young boy, sweeping me off the ground in his strong arms. Then he would deliberately scratch me with his prickly whiskers. This ritual was always followed by wet kisses that he would slather on my face, and, as I judged them to be, were entirely too wet. Dangling helplessly in the air, I had no recourse but to protest loudly. Yet I would giggle as I ran off once I was released. Through the years the hugs never ceased, though he was no longer able to lift me as he had done so frequently when I was a small child. Even in middle school when I would extend a hand to him, with the intent of clearly limiting his affection to a handshake, Dad would pull me in for a bear hug, kisses and all.

To my own children’s dismay, this tradition continues in our home—though my hugs are not nearly as scratchy as Dad’s had been. I do make every effort to give them hugs daily and, of course, apply liberal amounts of kisses.

My dad’s love for me was clear to me through his words, as he would tell me that he loved me, and through his ongoing support, guidance, and the discipline that he would impose on me when I needed correction. I especially appreciated going on the many fishing trips that he would take us on. These trips enriched my life and were a welcome change from growing up on a ranch. Being one of six children, with a hard-working father who was both a full-time doctor and a rancher, I found that getting time alone with Dad was more rare than a young boy like me would have liked it to have been. During the hikes and camping experiences that surrounded these fishing trips Dad cultivated a love for nature and science in us. I remember being delighted to find that Dad was able to answer most any question I had about nature and animals. And over the years I would still come to him for more of that knowledge, focusing the questions on more advanced topics around chemistry, anatomy, physiology, medicine, and genetics. I still fondly recall Dad’s habit of using a napkin during meals together and jotting notes on it to illustrate the points he was making. Ever the teacher, he shaped me in this way too.

And being a doctor, he was able to directly care for injuries and illnesses that I got growing up. (One time he used a pocketknife to help an aching and stubborn tooth of mine emerge from my gums!) I was also comforted as a young parent when I was able to call Dad late at night to seek help for our baby’s racking cough, or for another’s inflamed rash. I can’t convey the comfort Dad brought to Jami and I when we were not able to see a doctor until the next day. Having his support and expertise at those moments is something I know we will greatly miss, and, truly, is a perfect picture of what being a father meant to me. His love was demonstrated time he spent tenderly and expertly assisting us through the trials we faced.

My dad was not a perfect man. He made decisions that shattered our family and made me, as a boy just eight years old, come to doubt his love for me and my family. There are also many ways that I have deliberately departed from the example that Dad provided to my brothers and I as a father and husband. Though many of these decisions Dad had come to regret, as he expressed to me years later in his own way, he was nonetheless able to continue to demonstrate his love and support me as a young man and through the years. With time, I found that I have chosen to not dwell on the mistakes that Dad made. Instead, through being purposeful in my forgiveness of him, I focused on Dad’s admirable traits and allowed myself to be shaped by his tenderness, wise council, and work ethic.

There is much more that I could write, with many insightful and humorous anecdotes describing the odd and distinct ways that he did things on the ranch and on trips. Dad, for instance, had a unique and incredibly embarrassing way of gathering us together from a shopping trip. (Be sure to ask any of my siblings, should you like to know.) And what family do you know had the opportunity to participate in an actual cattle drive, and through our own neighborhood to boot!

I have become who I am, in part, through Dad’s influence on my life. And in the years ahead I know I will yearn to be with him again, to sit and get his take on something, to share a cherished memory, or to hear him recall one of his many stories. For now I will content myself by sharing memories of him with the friends and families who knew him best. I, for one, look forward to being enriched by you as you share the memories you have of Dad with me.

May the memories of Dad we have not melt away like a passing vapor. Instead, may they be the links of a powerful chain that bind us together, joining our thoughts and hearts through time.

Remembering in the Heart

From August 1, 2013

My mom lost her battle to heart failure early this week. When I was eight she went in for surgery to repair a damaged valve. It worked well and served her for many years. Now that she is gone, we carry her in our own hearts.

The Bible states that, “Children are a gift from the Lord.” Surely, then, our mother was also a gift from God. And all of us would name her as our first and one of our best friends.

With her example and her words, she taught us many important lessons that we still benefit from today. She taught us to see the humor in a situation and to never take life too seriously. Growing up, we children were a source of joy for her. And when we were upset, and our world seemed to crumble around us, she could make us laugh. I will always fondly remember that laugh and her eager smile. If you knew her, I know you would, too.

From the beginning she modeled what a loving relationship should be in a family, where she proved to be a faithful companion to her own mother and loved spending time with her brothers, sisters, and her cousins, when her travels allowed. She also helped us to see the good in our own family so that, despite the natural strife and rivalries that all families experience, we still appreciate and love each other. Key to this, I now see, was her unfailing love for each of us and her ability to listen closely to what we said.

She allowed us to fail when we made poor choices. That must have been hard for her. But stepping in to rescue us from our own mess would not have helped us learn from our mistakes, nor take responsibility for our actions. She wouldn’t abandon us, however. But acting as a wise coach, she would comfort us and help us to think through what we would need to do so that we would do better next time. I loved that. And I try to keep this in mind when parenting my own children.

She taught me through the trials she experienced with her health and her marriage to not strive with the things you can’t change, but to do what needs to be done for your self and for the peace of others. I am grateful for her kindness and patience, demonstrated through it all. She endured much hardship for our sakes.

She believed that, often, the simple things were the best things in life, such as taking time to chat with a family member late into the night, or to curl up with a book and pay attention to it as if it were a long lost friend. Going for a walk when we were small children and her health was not such a limit then was always great fun. Or surprising the family with a movie night at home, so that, despite our individual struggles or directions in life, we could sit down to share that time, together. These simple things, I have seen, are embedded in each of her children as we, too, carry out these same traditions with our own families.

Many call her family. We are privileged to call her Mom. And everyone she spent time with would call her friend. May her friendship bring us comfort, and may her memory be a continual source of joy and strength.

Newton’s 3rd Law vs. Algodoo

T

his video shows two boulders of equal size, but different mass. When they collide, they each exert a force that is equal in magnitude to what the other exerts, but the reason that the lighter boulder gets pushed back farther is because it has less mass, so it has less inertia than the heavier one, which means that it will be pushed farther and faster than the heavier one.  

Transfer of Momentum vs. Algodoo

In this video we can see that there are two boulders of equal size, but different masses. The dark brown is wood, while the grey is stone. The lighter, wood one starts moving toward the heavier stone boulder, and when they collide the lighter boulder is forced backwards, while the the stone boulder starts moving in the other direction. We call this collision a transfer of momentum, which means that the momentum of the wood boulder is transferred to the stone boulder. Momentum can be transferred through many objects as well, like Newton’s cradle. It has many marbles in the middle and when one marble strikes against the side, the marble on the opposite side pops straight out because the momentum of the first marble is transferred through all the other marbles, but when it reaches the end marble, there is no other marble behind it to steal the energy that it just gained, so it pops straight out.

Momentum (Algodoo)

In this video, we can see that we have a boulder that is moving at a constant speed. This object has a value called momentum, and this object can only have this value when it is moving because of its equation. It equation is p=mv which means that momentum is equal to mass times its velocity, so when an object has 0 velocity, it has no momentum, but when this mass of 100 kilograms starts going about 18 meters per second, it suddenly has a momentum of 1800 kg*m/s. So we see that both the amount of mass and the velocity of an object affect its momentum.

A Favored Retreat

Lake Tahoe in the Summer.

In the summer we go up to the mountains to seek a respite from the heat that drives everyone indoors. My favorite place to go is Lake Tahoe. Every time we go there my mom says, “Look at how blue the water is!” Looking out over the surface of the water, I see a shiny, cobalt surface. Later, paddling out a little ways from the beach, I see the floor of the lake right under me, though it must be at least fifty feet deep. The water is cool, and has a gentle wake. White, soft and wet the sand is almost like dough. If we get to the lake early enough, morning fog is still hanging over the lake. It’s almost as though it clears the waters before humans arrive so that the water is always cold, clean, and blue, ready for us to cool off in it, and to admire God’s creation.

--Jonathan Todd

Goodbye and Hello

“Bye Dad.” I said. “I’ll miss you.”   “I will miss you too, son.” He said. In all the time I had known him, I had never seen tears in his eyes until that night. He was flying out very early the next morning to start his new job in California. The evening’s preparations for his flight and our indefinite separation kept us busy and the sadness at bay.

Me and my dad.

            The days following my dad’s departure to California weren’t too bad, although I never got used to him not walking through the door around 5 o’clock for supper.  I missed my dad. He was my best friend and playmate, he was my teacher and he was fun to be around. Friends from church invited us over and some of the neighborhood kids came almost daily to play with us, not knowing when our last Lego battle or Nerf war would be. I did not want to believe that leaving was real.  I didn’t want to go to a strange, new place and then be expected to live there and enjoy it. If I thought ahead to the day when I had to say good-bye to my companions, I would get very sad.  I played ultimate Frisbee and attended Wednesday night youth group and hung out with my neighborhood buddies as usual to keep things feeling the same. Surrounding myself with my friends and my family made me feel happy, but when I was alone, I couldn’t help but wonder, “What will that day be like when we have to leave?” Keeping busy kept the feelings of denial and sadness from creeping in.

We were also busy repairing the house to make it look nice so we could sell it and move out to be with my dad.  The house was about as clean and neat as it could be considering that the floor of the entry way and most of the hallway had been ripped up, and the whole house smelled of plaster and paint with buckets stacked up and put out of the way. Bare cement sat there, cold and hard and uneven, with no carpet over it, but it was always swept and tidy. That was a skill my mom had. Even when we made a huge mess with putty on the floor, or dust from taking apart the frames of the doors, she always managed to clean it up so things wouldn’t look as cluttered. There was so much to do, too much for my Mom to do alone. Some men at our church, called the Barnabas Builders, found out that my family would be moving to California soon and that our house needed to get finished before we could move. For the next 6 weeks they came over on the weekends and replaced doors, painted cabinets, put in a new bathtub, sink and toilet in one bathroom, laid new tile in the shower and on the floor and fixed all of the kitchen drawers. The work crew also removed the ugliest cooking stove hood in the world! A man from the crew took it and said “This is exactly what I need! This would make the best solar oven!” So he took it home, and I never saw it again and my mom was very relieved that it was gone for good. My dad came and visited a couple of times and he would paint day and night to help get the house ready to sell and to hasten his family’s relocation to California.

            After six weeks of work, the house that I had been in since I was 3 looked brand new. It had new carpet, new texture on all of the walls and ceiling and new paint. A wood floor covered the cement slab from the front door, through the kitchen and all the way to back door.  The room that I shared with my two younger brothers finally had a door on it. I could not believe how much the house changed in 6 weeks.

Soon after we had gotten our carpet put in, our 16 year old cat had to be put down. He had failing kidneys and would not have made the trip. I was sad because I was beginning to say goodbye to my friends. I still wanted him to stick around since he could still jump and play and run pretty well for a three legged cat. He was such a sweet cat and a regular part of my life. Our two other younger cats would make the trip just fine and provide comic relief in the days to come.

By mid-September, our house was on the market.  We would get calls right in the middle of meals sometimes about someone wanting to take a look at the house. One day the call came that started the dominoes falling towards our moving out of the house and leaving the great state of Texas and all that I had ever known.

My dad came and helped take things apart in preparation for the move. When the movers came, they took all of our belongings, including our 65 VW beetle. The house I had known for most of my life was empty. I got a strange feeling every time I went into the house after that. I felt like it should still be ours, and yet it felt as though I was intruding or it wasn’t part of my life any more. It was like saying goodbye to another one of my familiar friends.

Many of our friends in Texas helped us pass the time.

In the nine days that followed, we lived in a hotel room and it was very boring.   I got a cold and felt terrible.  Friends invited us over one last time to say goodbye, but I couldn’t go. I didn’t want to miss my last night of AWANA or my last time at Wednesday night youth group. I recovered just in time for our flight on November 16.  Along with my mom, my brothers and my 2 cats, I boarded an MD-80 bound for Sacramento and I said goodbye to a city that I called home my whole life.  I was sad, but I couldn’t help but laugh when my cat started yowling loud enough to be heard over the jet’s engines. I saw Lake Tahoe for the first time and my mom said that we wouldn’t be living that far from it. I started to hope that I would like California after all. When we landed, I felt like everything was too bright for one o’clock in the afternoon, but then I remembered that we were on Pacific Standard Time now, so I was so tired the first day.

We stayed in another hotel room for two days while we waited for our stuff to arrive. The house we were going to stay in was a two story house, so I was pretty excited since I had never lived in a house with stairs. Our cats enjoyed

Hot cocoa after snow tubing

chasing each other through the house, upstairs and down, and we called the racket they made, “Cat Thunder.” When our belongings arrived, it took some time to unpack it all. We spent the whole next day cutting open boxes and putting their contents away. When we were done, there was the biggest pile of paper I had ever seen in our living room. A pile so big, it was taller than Joshua!  We didn’t know how to get rid of it all, but some friends from our new church came and helped us fold all of those sheets of paper so we could take it to a recycling center.

We finally started to settle in, but I couldn’t help but feel like it wouldn’t be the same. I enjoyed the nicer weather in California more than the unstable climate in Texas, but I missed my friends and my favorite activities and places to be. Then we started to explore places that we had only read about. We went up into the Sierra’s the first weekend we were in California, and we enjoyed being in the fresh, cold mountain air. My hopes increased that I might really like living in a new place.

I quickly started doing activities that I enjoyed in Texas, such as biking and

Belt promotion in Karate

playing sports at the park. I have some new favorite past-times too such as karate and yo-yo club. I miss my friends very much, but I also enjoy being with my new friends here in California. I have learned how to make friends with new people and to cope with different situations.  Adjustments have become easier than when I first moved to California. Hope has ignited where doubt once ruled. Now my home is here in California. We enjoy being so close to the mountains and the endless recreation they offer during every season.  This move has changed me for the good. It will never be exactly the same when I visit Texas and I still feel a tug to go back and visit my friends, but California is my home and I look forward to growing up here.

--Jonathan Todd