Father's Day tribute to my Dad

I found this book at an estate sale for a dollar. It has been a slow but fascinating read about the Ricks Academy then junior college now BYU-Idaho that is part of my family history. It has also given me a new perspective of my father who has been gone for almost 40 years. Over and over I have recognized the names associated with Ricks who were friends of my father.

  
He attended college at the University of Idaho where he studied agriculture and eventually bought the family farm between Rexburg and Sugar City. He gave service as he visited and helped with the dairy operation at Ricks via his friendship with J. Wendall Stucki.
 

He gave service at the Sugar City Ward dairy farm where he was close friends with Marion Forsyth who had also been his advisor in FFA in high school.  
 

He traveled the back roads of Southeastern Idaho providing services to dairy farmers and sometimes I rode along in his red pickup truck on many of these visits. So I share just two of the names I knew, but there were many more and I realized that my father's life was a short one but a rich one full of good friends and service. Happy Father's Day Dad! It has been great to have this new perspective of your life!

Photos: book cover;  
FFA Club at Sugar Salem High School;  
newspaper article about FFA with Marion Forsyth facing my father Gary:
me and my dad;
great grandfather of my father, Thomas E. Ricks, also founder of Fremont later Ricks Academy.

It's about agriculture

This is a view from the air of Rexburg facing east from the 1960's.  To get to my family farm your would follow the main highway through town and then head north until you reached Moody Road.  North of Moody Road was the beginning of our land and if you traveled right or east onto Moody Road you passed a potato pit and then there would be a gray shingled house on the left with a big red barn and other out buildings.  That was home.  The area was very dependent on agriculture and the small towns were surrounded by farm fields.  All of the buildings in this photo are familiar to me and I have been inside many of them.

While the farm was halfway between Rexburg and Sugar City, our allegiance lay with Sugar City.  That is where we went to church and school.  That was where my great aunts and uncles lived.  My father had taken over the family farm from his father, George.  It was originally part of a larger farm first created by my grandmother's, Georgianna, grandfather.  It had been divided amongst his children and my grandparents had purchased it from my great grandmother, Winnifred.  When we moved to Arizona for my father's health, my parents sold it to someone who was not family.  When the Teton Dam broke in 1976, the farm building were destroyed and it now looks nothing like I remember it.

My father loved that land.  He loved his Jersey herd of milk cows who came to the milking barn when he called them by name.  This was the life he wanted.  I will forever be grateful for the experiences of my young life on the farm.  It included room to roam, baby calves and chicks, a lamb, a horse, and occasional pigs.  There was a barn to explore, a trash fire to poke around in, a big tree to climb, and a canal to swim in and ice skate on.  A large kitchen garden provided fresh peas to eat and tall corn to hide in.  There was a beautiful sky full of stars at night and northern lights in the winter.  It was also a place where everyone helped out.

I included this picture of the Madison County Courthouse with the tractors in front because they remind me of my father's tractors.  He had two, a red Case and a green John Deere.  He also owned a hay truck.  That was the first vehicle I drove.  He would place me behind the wheel to steer, put it in slow gear, and jump off.  It was my job to steer it down the hay field while he and helpers threw the hay bales up on the bed.  At the end of the field he would jump back in the cab and turn the truck around for the next pass.  I could not reach the peddles.

Idaho, Day 8, Sugar City

After the drive to the ranch, we returned to Sugar City, the place where I was raised until the age of 12. We had an appointment time with Uncle Keith. Annette planned to do her interview about LTM days and Lynette and I were glad to listen in. We were also very excited to see and visit with him. The main reason for this trip farther north was to see our Nyborg related aunts and uncles.

Keith moved to Sugar City from the ranch so that Raija would be closer to medical care 5 or 6 years ago. He lost his beloved companion in February 2010 and is now organizing his papers so that he might write his history. It is quite a history. He has been a missionary to Finland, translator at the 1952 Oympic games in Helsinki, rancher and farmer who served on many boards and commissions, LDS bishop and stake president, and ambassador to Finland during the Reagan years. His office is treasure trove of interesting pictures with the stories to match.

I had never been to his home on the south side of Teton Road east of Sugar City. I was amazed to discover that it sits on the property which used to be the Sugar City Ward's welfare farm. I had spent much time on that property during my youth. The building in the background was a part of the welfare farm dairy.

Across the canal to the east of the dairy are the fields where I helped thin sugar beets.

Uncle Keith's home sits in the middle of these two sites. The trees in the foreground used to be the back of the lot were one of my best friends, Karen Forsyth, lived. There was a big strawberry patch behind that house and one of my favorite memories is picking strawberries with Karen which went straight into our mouths. Unfortunately, the homes I remember that used to be along Teton Road were all destroyed when the Teton Dam broke 35 years ago on June 6, 1976.

It is easy for me to remember the date because I was a student living in Provo at the time and very pregnant with my oldest son who was born June 19th. It was a sad, sad time and it forever changed the landscape of my childhood home. Very few of the buildings which existed during my youth remain, including my childhood home and all the outbuildings on the farm where I spent my first years. To read personal accounts of the aftermath of the Teton Dam break go to here. Many of the published oral accounts are names I remember from my childhood including Karen's mother, Grace.

However, the dairy building remains and it made me almost giddy.

My father was a dairyman and also performed the artificial inseminating of cattle. He spent many hours at this dairy providing services and I often tagged along in his red pickup truck.

Keith's son, Bruce, now owns this property and he used to store some farm equipment here for his Agritech Corporation equipment business. His business is on the land just to the east of the old Sugar factory along the highway. Sugar City is named after the factory and sugar beet business that was prominent in the early 1900's.

My father, Gary Ostler, is center back and Bishop Forsyth on his right

Karen's father, Marion G. Forsyth, taught at Ricks College in Rexburg. He was also our bishop and apparently a long time friend of our father. I found this clipping in my file. I knew there was a special relationship between the two. Karen was one of the youngest in her family and I the oldest in mine. I spent many a Sunday afternoon at her home between Sunday School and Sacrament Meeting. I would ride home with her family from Sunday School and would meet back up with mine at Sacrament Meeting. Karen lived on the east side of town and I the southwest.

Here's the sugar factory today. I think it is part of Bruce's holdings.

I couldn't make out the former writing on the side of the building.


There were several sugar beet factories built in Idaho and Utah during this time period. Read more here. This is the one east of Idaho Falls in Lincoln. My father worked here nights during the winter months to supplement his farming income. I remember how hard it was to be quiet while he slept during the day. He still milked his large dairy herd morning and evening.

He wore white clothes to his work in the quality control section of the factory. This meant that he would bring home coin sized golden candies, the remains of the sugar syrup he would test. I remember the difference between going to see him in the lab as a family and my childhood field trip to the noisy factory part. I was so grateful that he got to work in the quiet lab.

Our cruising through Sugar City and about the countryside has brought back so many childhood memories. I've decided that I will scan some pictures to share of how it looked before the dam break and some of those memories next post.

My father's birthday

I just realized that today would have been Gary 'R' Ostler's 83rd birthday if he were still with us. He has been gone a long time having passed away just months before his 50th birthday. He starting slipping away years before his death. I've often wondered what it would have been like to have a physically strong and strapping father in our home. How might that have changed the dynamics of our family?

I do know that he married well and loved his family. I know that having to physically care for him made his children empathetic and kind. It also made them rely on each other and made them willing to do their part. We watched our mother and marveled at her strength and tenacity.

I love this boyhood picture of my dad in his overalls. I look at him and see my childhood freckles, glasses, and dark hair. I miss you dad and I look forward to meeting you again.

Thoughtful gift from my sister

I received a most thoughtful Mother's Day gift from my sister, Jolene. She came across a little yellow book, with a beautiful gardenia on the cover, entitled simply "Mother" amongst my parents' books in her possession. Inside she found a card including a note from my father, Gary, to his mother, Georgianna. The book and card had been sent home from Alabama to his mother while he served as a missionary in the Spring of 1949. Jolene sent each of her siblings a packet for Mother's Day including copies of the card, note, and book including the poems by Edgar A. Guest which my father had marked as special to him. How appropriate on this day when mothers all over the world receive the gift of a telephone call from their missionary sons.

Elder Gary 'R' Ostler

Georgianna Ricks Ostler

Jolene also included a sweet letter to us expressing gratitude for the experience of finding this note which provided a glimpse into the heart of our father expressing his special feelings for his mother. When you lose your father at a far too young age, it is indeed a gift to receive some insight into his personality and his tender feelings. Thank you Jolene for your special gift!

I left my heart in San Francisco

Gary holding 3 month old Laurel at the Nyborg Home in Ashton

Today as I climbed into a pre-cooled car (thanks Glen) to come home from church, the radio played "I Left My Heart In San Francisco" sung by Tony Bennett. Suddenly the memories flowed. I certainly love and honor my father, but I've often felt cheated that I never had the opportunity to know him adult to adult. Our normal father/daughter relationship ended before my second Daddy/Daughter Date when Grandpa George had to fill in for his ailing son. As his health declined, roles changed and soon his family, especially my mother, became his caretakers and protectors. He lived until I was married (a wedding he could no longer attend) and had two little boys. He died days after Ryan was born. Eighteen month old Eric, who was being cared for my mother and sisters, was perhaps the last person to see him alive.

My siblings, however, may envy the memories that I do have as eldest child. I'm almost certain that none of them even had a Daddy/Daughter Date or Father/Son Outing. I hope that I am wrong. The song by Tony Bennett brought back one of my most vivid memories. It is a cold December day with snowflakes flying and I am sitting in the back seat of the car, just me and my dad taking care of errands. Tony is singing this beautiful song and I am so happy to be with my dad on this crisp,cold day getting ready for Christmas. I feel so full of love and happiness. Somehow, this seemed like a tender mercy today as I left the church, where fathers had been praised, to have this special reminder of a day with mine.

Memorable Memorial

It isn't often that we are in Utah for Memorial Day. We enjoyed the opportunity this year to visit the grave sites of those we love and miss. We appreciate the many years that our children have represented us by visiting their grandparents' graves over the years on Memorial Day.

It was all the more special as Glen's mother was born on May 24 and my father on May 26.

It's hard to believe that Elma has been gone for 22 years. She made a special trip to Mesa for Nathan's baby blessing on her way home from attending Grandma Baker's 80th birthday bash. We feel it was a blessing that she was able to hold her youngest and last grandchild before her passing.

She and Grandpa J are buried in Sandy, Utah in the shadow of the beautiful Wasatch Mountains.

My parents are buried in Provo, Utah, a place that my mother loved. She began her love affair as a student at BYU made possible through the GI Bill. She was the first college student ever in her family.

She met Gary after her studies and after he wrote the woman in this picture while on his mission. I found this picture the other day and wanted to share it. I am the owner of the cedar chest in the entry because he received a "dear John" and the chest reverted to my grandmother who in turn left it to me filled with her treasures. Both Gary and Elma died in their fifties. So young! We will always think of both of them on their birthdays.

Velva's and Gary's grave site also lies in view of the beautiful mountains.

We were also able to visit the graves of Glen's grandparents in the Draper City Cemetery.

They also lie near the mountains. Utah was so green and beautiful.

Gary would have turned 80 today

As I typed the date for Nate's weekly e-mail, I realized that today was my father's birthday. Then I realized that it would have been his 80th. If he hadn't already been gone from us for 30 years, we could have had a wonderful 80th birthday celebration. Janae and Andrew did honor him by visiting his grave in Provo (along with my mother's) today on Memorial Day. I love the above picture. Gary (wearing the sailor hat) is holding the hand of his great grandfather, John Lloyd Roberts, on his maternal side. This ancestor joined the church in Wales and eventually settled in Idaho. He looks like such a lovely man and I understand that he had a beautiful singing voice.

My father loved farming the land originally settled by the Roberts family. You will find him in the third row up, third from the right in this picture of the Sugar Salem High School Future Farmers of America photo. He went on to study agriculture at the University of Idaho in Moscow, Idaho.