Missing My Dad

A few days shy of my dad's 75th birthday in 2006 he was thrown from a horse as he was getting ready to take one of his grandchildren for a ride and suffered a severe head injury which resulted in his death.  Days before his family had gathered in anticipation of his 75th party so he had lots of loved ones nearby when he left this earthly plane.  My dad, at times, was a mystery to me but he was loved by many and you couldn't help but like him.  It was often said that he should have been a movie star with his good looks and quick smile but it was these very things that sometimes got him into trouble.  I have tried to learn from his stories and example of hard work, self reliance and patriotic service as well as how to be a loving grandfather.  When he passed he left me three things which I cherish.  When I was twelve I took a hunter's safety course in preparation of being able to hunt pheasants for the first time.  (A pastime which I still enjoy with my son to this day.)  While taking this course I had to take the shooting portion of the course with an old Remington bolt action .22 caliber rifle that my dad had for many years.  Years later, as a gift I refinished the stock on this old rifle and blued the barrel and surprised him with it.  One day I will pass this collectable to my son.  Secondly, he started a life history shortly before his passing and I love looking through these pages of stories, some of which I had never heard until it was too late.  And lastly, he left me a memory full of thoughts, sights and impressions that I hope have made me a better man.  I think of him often and my brother, Mike,  summed it up pretty well in Farrell's obituary with a few excerpts posted below:

One of a Kind:  John Farrell Larsen / August 31, 1931 - August 21, 2006

August 22, 2006

Farrell Larsen was born on August 31, 1931 to William Lavor and Ivadene Anderson Larsen in Garland, Utah. He was one of seven children and enjoyed a wonderful bond with his brothers and sisters, their spouses and all of the nieces and nephews. While growing up on the family farm on West Factory Road in Garland, Farrell learned the values of hard work, family, sacrifice, self-sufficiency and industry. In addition to his fabulous and ever present smile, Farrell's penchant for hard work was one of his defining qualities. He was also quick to laugh, he loved a good joke, engaged in his share of mischief and he amazed us all with his never-ending supply of "Farrellisms"-his own brand of philosophy, wisdom and social commentary all rolled into spontaneous expressions perfectly suited for just the right situations.

He was proud of his sons and hesitated not in the least to brag about them or his beautiful grandchildren, often declaring that "there wasn't an ugly one in the bunch!" He could always be found on the sidelines of sporting events cheering on his grandsons and engaging in all manner of political incorrectness, thereby endearing himself to some but certainly not all.

Farrell was a spiritual man in his own way. His eloquent prayers and heart-felt thanks for the blessings of life and family stood in juxtaposition to his colorful language used on occasion for special emphasis or when dealing with a stubborn horse. He was quick to offer help to the boy scouts, the widows, neighbors, and those who could use his help.

Truly you could not take the farm out of this country boy. His grandsons marveled that "with a hammer and cutting torch, grandpa could fix just about anything." Farrell Larsen wasn't a perfect man, but he was a damn good man. Guys like him-with a big heart to love you, big hands to help you and a big smile to encourage you-don't come along every day. Nope, they sure don't.