Monday, February 22, 2010

My Dad

I can’t call this a history because I do not have all facts and dates. But, I do have loving memories of my father, Meldo Francis Dixon.

Dad came to this earth December 29, 1905 in Manti, Utah; the first of three children born to William Dixon and Elizabeth Braithwaite. The family moved to Tooele when Dad was still very young. He loved his mother very much and wanted to be with her. He accompanied her frequently as she went visiting teaching and caring for the sick. After grandpa died he would make weekly trips to Tooele to care for her needs and make sure all was well. I remember going with him to clean house, pick raspberries, take care of the yard, and descend the dark stairs of the root cellar to get honey and homemade jam. Grandma came to live with us for awhile but missed her home and friends so returned to Tooele. The story I remember about that visit was the mistake she made of fixing a sandwich for herself using the cat food that was in the refrigerator. She thought it was potted meat.

Grandpa was a stern man. I don't remember him smiling at all. I do remember handsome white hair and candy mints in his pockets--pink mints. I would sit on his lap and search his jacket pockets until I found one.

Dad and Grandpa didn't see eye to eye so Dad left home at 15 or 16 to work in the silver mines. He roamed from Utah to Nevada and Wyoming for work during the 1920's and 30's. He sent money home that helped Reba complete school and receive a teaching certificate. He would continue to help Reba and her family until he died. He was like a father to her children and they loved him very much.

When Dad went to Tooele he would always visit his mother's family.  They loved to sing. Dad would take his guitar and concertina (a small accordion), Mary or Martha (Dad's twin aunts) would play the piano, and everyone would sing. "Bye, bye, Blackbird", "My Buddy", "In The Shade Of The Old Apple Tree", "Paper Doll", wonderful old songs I still love. Dad had a very mellow tenor voice. I can still hear it in my mind. Very soft. I particularly remember Dad singing "Always" to my Mom. "I'll be loving you, always. With a love that's true, always. . . Not for just an hour, not for just a day, not for just a year, but always." He loved her very much.

Dad and Mom met in 1937 or 38 at a dance. As the story goes Mom's date became very disruptive and drunk. He even passed out and Dad drove first the date home and then Mom. From what I understand it was love at first sight and they married in February of 1939 at a friend's home in Salt Lake. They lived in a small rental home on Quale Avenue just off Main Street. Dad worked for the City Water Department and hung wallpaper on the side. He continued working for the Water Department for many years until he retired in 1970. When he retired he was an Inspector Forman. He boasted that he knew every water line and main in Salt Lake and beyond.

Our family moved to Rose Park in about 1947 or 48. How we loved our new home. This is where I came to appreciate my Dad for who he was: devoted, hardworking, honest. "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right." "Do your best, that's all we can ask." With mom's help they turned the dessert clay of 974 Prosperity Drive to a fertile rose covered cottage. Dad built a trailer that hitched to the back of the car and spent every weekend hauling mountain top soil and spreading it around the yard. They planted grass seed, roses, bulbs of every kind. In later years they won first prize for roses and mums at the county fair. They really loved that house and so did I.

Dad was a fisherman and loved every minute of it. Trout fishing was his first choice. He loved being in the mountains and fishing the large streams of Utah. He usually went alone. Sometimes Duane or I would go with him. But when mom retired they went together always together. They bought a little camper and roamed Utah. . . together.

When I was 21 I decided I wanted to go on a mission. Dad wanted no part of it. "Over my dead body", he said. I had never gone against his wishes. This time out of my mouth came, "If that's how it has to be, that's how it has to be." I talked to the bishop and submitted the papers. The week before my farewell I asked Dad if he would come and speak at the meeting. He didn't say a word. He hadn't spoken to me for quite awhile. He was really upset. At the meeting he did speak and I think that was the beginning of the mighty change that took place in his life. While on my mission he and mom were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple and he began serving a mission at Desseret Industries. He talked about that mission for the rest of his earth life. He loved it. He loved the Church and loved attending meetings. Like his father he carried mints in his pocket--pink mints--and the children of the ward loved him and would run to him after meeting. "Were you reverent at church today?" If the answer was yes hands reached in his pocket for a mint.

My dad was a wonderful man. A devoted son, a loving husband, and a caring and protecting father. There are many stores to tell. Driving to seminary in a jeep, Sledding on the Golf Course, Skating on Decker Lake. They will have to wait for another time.

2 comments:

  1. So cool, mom. Please keep telling stories.

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  2. that was awesome - although I shouldn't have read it at work - I'm crying like a baby. I agree with Sarah, more stories

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