Father’s Day

The giant snowflakes gently fell in perfect rhythm. Even though it was 6:00 AM, I could see clearly through the winter whiteness. This particular winter during the 1980’s in Castle Dale was incredibly harsh. Nearly 18” of snow had fallen over the past 24 hours. The field across the street from my parents house was covered in a thick blanket of white. I bundled up as I prepared to leave the house to do the morning farm chores.

My dad led the way as we headed across the street to the corals. The deep snow proved to be a challenge for my short legs. I jumped and lengthened my stride as I placed my feet inside my father’s footprints. As long as I followed his steps, the path seemed manageable

My dad is a giant of a man. I remember attending a Cub Scout pack meeting as a young boy. At this meeting, a plank was placed on the floor and a 16 penny nail was started in the center. A competition was held where all of the father’s in the room had a chance to hit the nail as hard as they could. Some were able to drive the nail in completely with 2 or 3 hits. When my dad’s turn came around, he buried the nail with a single swing of the hammer. I remember thinking how amazing that was! He could loosen old rusty bolts with a quick flick of his wrist, he could throw a bale of hay on top of a haystack and no one could use a shovel like him. In my eyes as a young boy, he seemed to be able to do anything. My dad has been my hero as far back as I can remember.

I remember a time where he had learned that a man living in town did not have a bed in his house to sleep on. My dad went and purchased a brand new bed with his own money and delivered it to this man that he didn’t even know. Years later, this man told me that this act was the kindest thing that anyone had ever done for him in his life. My dad taught me how to care for others less fortunate time and time again through his example.

Each summer, my dad would set aside time to take each of his five children camping with him individually. We would get to chose the destination of this one on one time. I remember the cold air and the damp grass. I remember the smell of the air. I remember eating Pringles and sitting by a campfire. I remember eating small boxes of Cocoa Krispies and catching fish.

Oh how I looked forward to my annual camping trip with dad! My favorite spot was in Upper Joe’s Valley. This overnight camping trip always provided an escape from the every day chores and busy summer days.

Despite working 7-5 every day, somehow dad would find the time in his incredibly busy schedule to take each one of us individually every single year. This was dad‘s way of showing us how much he cared. Although he loved each of us equally, during these outings we all felt very special. I remember every single trip and I cherish these memories.

I remember one particular time when I was working at the cemetery. The volume of work there had overwhelmed me. There was so much to do and I couldn’t get it done. Dad, after working all day at a thankless and stressful job, came to the cemetery and cut the individual daisy flowers off of the dozen or so bushes in the flower bed. This tedious process took several hours. I was thankful that night, but now looking back, tears come to my eyes. I know how tired and worn out I am after working all day. How did he have the energy to do all that he did?

In today’s world fathers come and go. Having a stable father is a rarity. My dad was always there to work with us. I remember many times going out to the farm with dad and being so stressed I couldn’t function, and after a few hours of digging ditch anything that was bothering me would disappear. Growing up, I was taught how to do good work and to be proud of my accomplishments. My dad did this, not by leaving a list of chores to be accomplished, but by working right there alongside us,

A statue on my dad’s dresser depicts a father with a small child sitting on his knee. The inscription reads, “Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy.” My daddy’s example was not lost on me. His unconditional love has inspired each of his 5 children to be the best that we can be

I have often wondered exactly what is the measure of a man? Is it the softness of his heart? Is it the hardness of his hands? Is it in the words he speaks or the legacy he leaves?

When the storms of life have blown and tossed me around, I have always been able to think about the example my dad set for me. He has walked the same path, has wished upon the same stars and he has worried about the same things. This brings me so much comfort. It helps me tremendously when I have to make tough decisions.

One of the most unfortunate things in my life is that it has taken me years to realize how essential my father’s role was to build my character, my ethics and most importantly, my happiness. His blood runs through my veins and his example is in my soul, and although my life has been a poor attempt to imitate his example, I am doing the very best I can.

This Father’s Day, I still find myself trying to follow my father’s footprints in the deep snow. He is my constancy and my mentor, my rock and my friend. He is my hero!

Thank you dad for your unconditional love. Thank you for your guidance. Thank you for teaching me how to work, to love and for teaching me how to treat others with kindness.

Happy Father’s Day!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM