Family Friday: Featuring My Dad Alan

During my "Family Friday" series I have introduced the boys in the family as handsome young men. This week you can clearly see why when you see this picture of my Dad. I have a handsome Dad. Even when I was a little girl I recognized that my Dad was handsome, and I was very proud of that fact.

My Dad was born in England. He was the seventh of nine children, only five of which lived to adulthood. He joined the church when he was eleven and when he was thirteen his Father passed away. He had a lot of family responsibilities as a young teen aged boy with a widowed Mother. He took care of his two younger siblings and many household duties while his Mother worked to support their family. As a boy in school Dad played soccer and for many years as an adult he played recreational soccer, I remember many Saturdays during the spring and fall our family going to watch Dad's soccer games.

In early February of 1962, Dad was coming home from work one day on a trolley bus in Belfast when a voice as clear as any voice he had ever heard came into his mind saying, "you are going to live in America." When Dad arrived home he recounted that experience to Mom. Immediately they began making preparations to come to America. Dad left Belfast in June of that year, leaving behind Mother and their three young children for four long months. I was just four-years-old and have vague memories of our arrival in Salt Lake City, but I have no doubt that it was a joyous reunion. I do remember arriving at our first home in West Bountiful late at night and finding a doll waiting under my pillow for me. I promptly named her Virginia in honor of the state we had just come from. I will be forever grateful for a faithful Father who heeded the prompting of the spirit. Bringing our little family to America has been a great blessing not only to us, but to many generations yet to come.

I think that my Dad was born happy. I'm not kiddin'. He has the greatest sense of humor and keeps us all laughing (or shaking our heads) when we are with him. I can't remember a time when my Dad didn't whistle or sing; and he is famous for both. Many times when I come across people that I haven't seen in many years they will ask me about my parents, often, particularly those who were peers of me and my siblings will ask, "does your Dad still whistle?" Dad has been singing since he was a little boy. From the time that I was a little girl Dad was always singing somewhere; a wedding, a funeral, a ward party or a roadshow; over the years he has become a great entertainer who has performed all over the valley. Shortly before my wedding Dad recorded an album and just this past summer Dad recorded a CD.




My Dad is a gospel scholar. All of my life I have seen my Dad study the scriptures and read good books written by church leaders. When I was a little girl my Dad was a stake missionary. He had a box in his bedroom filled with copies of The Book of Mormon, these were the blue copies with the Angel Moroni on the cover. These books also featured copies of the Book of Mormon paintings by Arnold Friberg, I used to love to browse through those books and look at the pictures. On the day I was baptized my Dad gave me one of those books. I was thrilled to receive it and I still have it. I have been very fortunate to be the recipient of my Dad's first set of scriptures. While they were still "courting" my Mother gave Dad his first Triple Combination for his 18th birthday; then, on their second wedding anniversary which happened to be the day before I was born, Mother gave him his Bible. Mother says that he can still tell you the first scriptures that he read in his new Bible on the day that I was born. These books are well worn and marked. Not only are these books a priceless treasure because of their content, but because they belonged to my Dad; he read, studied, learned, and taught, with these books.

I'm not sure if we could actually count how many rooms Dad has painted or wallpapered for his family, or how many shelves were built, or sheet rocking done, or pilot lights lit, truck loaned out, comforting council given, tending grandchildren, chauffeuring, treats, cleaning up after un-natural disasters, and much more....whatever our needs he's always there to do what he can, and he keeps us laughing or smiling in the process. Granpa is the best.


Dad never says goodbye to us, whether it is in person or on the phone without telling us that he loves us. One day many years ago I was talking to Dad on the phone and as I hung up I realized that Dad hadn't said, "love ya", the phone immediately rang, it was Dad calling me back to say, "love ya".

Things to know about my Dad: He works hard. He never wastes time. He's an early riser. He's wise with money. He loves and takes care of my Mother. He loves his family unconditionally. He's wise. He loves the Lord. He serves. He served a mission to England with Mother as his companion. He is FUN. He loves soccer (but it better be English). He loves pie. He honors the Priesthood. He is never, ever, late. He retired from Mountain Fuel. He's honest. He's an Apollonian. He loves the Lord. He has a firm testimony and shares it often. He's a good brother. People of all ages love him. He likes yellow shirts. He's always well groomed. I love my Dad and I know all of our family does too, and we are blessed and grateful to have him as our Father and Grandfather.

Granma and Granpa at Artist's Point in Yellowstone National Park last year