Carl James Cook-Life Sketch Part 5

Remembrances of Carl James Cook

by his daughter, Loralee

1909-1966

             My dad passed away when I was only fourteen. I have always felt cheated for not being able to have him around when I was a teenager. 

             In those few short fourteen years, I have so many memories, some sad, some funny, some scary, but for the most part, I remember so much happiness.

            The earliest thing I can remember about when I was little is that I loved the kittens and I used to pack them around and maul them to death, dad always told me I should go live with the kittens. I remember that once I was walking around with a kitten snuggled up to my chest and walking around the gate singing to it. All of a sudden, I felt something that I knew wasn't good. The kitten had pooped all over the front of my shirt. Dad came walking up to the house and even though he felt sorry for me, he had a hard time not laughing. I wish mom had felt sorry for me, but I suppose it was she who had to do the laundry.

              Rulan and I had chores to do each night. We would get involved in playing and forget to get the milk cans to the barn before the first cow was finished being milked. All of a sudden out of the air came a shrill voice, "Rulan and Loralee, you'd better get your butts over here."  Needless to say, after that we knew we'd better hurry.

One of my most favorite chores was moving the young chickens to the sheep shed. All the neighbors knew when it was chicken moving time at the Cooks because Loralee was screaming her head off; I think I was born with chickenphobia, to this day, I am still hysterically afraid of them. Dad and mom didn't feel sorry for me though, as I had to help anyway. I remember having stitches in my arm just around chicken moving time and I didn't have to help, I just sat around and grinned at the other kids. Dad always knew that I would be around when it came time to butcher the chickens, I hated them so much, it was a joy for me to see them gone.

              Some of my most favorite times was when Dad would water the lawn. This of course was my time to swim and wade in the ditch. He used to throw his shovel full of water and me and laugh when I screamed. All of us kids thought it was a big treat to ride with Dad in the maroon pickup, we didn't care where we went, we just wanted to go.

One of my funny memories is when I would hear mom yelling at Dad that his cows were out. Whenever they got out, they headed straight for her garden. I suppose to her it wasn't funny, but I think we all laughed at her.

              I remember Milburn Hix and Dean Gneiting coming to our house quite a bit, they thought the world of Dad. They were like brothers, I had never seen such close friends.

I remember on Sunday afternoon visiting Dad's sisters and their families and his brother and his family. I couldn't believe that I had that many cousins. It took quite a few Sundays to visit them all

Even though Dad was not musically inclined, I remember how much he loved it. He loved to hear Janae play the piano and although I was never as good as she, he would sit down and listen to me play also. I was in a girl’s choir in the church and he really liked our songs. He was the ward clerk at that time and he used to come into the chapel and pretend to be doing his clerk duties when really he was listening to us. I used to watch him out of the corner of my eye, watching us.

Dad was quite a teaser at times. One Christmas all I wanted was a new bike, I had been using Rick's and I wanted one of my own. When I got up that morning and ran to the Christmas tree, I had a few things under it, but no sign of a bike. I sat down on a chair and was almost in tears. He let me sit there for a minute or two then he said "Loralee would you get me a glass of water out of the kitchen?" Well thought, I might as well, I didn't have anything to play with. I turned the corner and went into the kitchen and there sat my new beautiful blue bike. I was so excited, I don't think Dad ever got his glass of water.     

I never minded doing anything for my Dad, I thought he was terrific. I so wish I had had him when I was in my teens, a girl needs her dad during those times. Mom was great and tried to fill his shoes and did a pretty great job.

           Fourteen short years, but boy what a great fourteen years with a dad I will never forget and will always remember for his gentleness, humor, values and most of all for all the love he gave to each one of us.

           In 1981 I was asked to submit a short story or poetry to a Stake Women's Talent Program. I thought and thought about what to write about and what to do. I was overwhelmed with feelings of paying a tribute to my father.  I spent a few emotional hours writing it and rewrote it about 20 times. My main problem was that it had to be short, so I hope I wrote a tribute that he would be proud of. My tribute I wrote to him is as follows:

                                                                      YES, I REMEMBER YOU

     As the saying goes, "You don't know a good thing until you lose it." The same cliché holds true for my favorite memory.

     After his passing, I would find myself lying awake at nights, softly crying, watching and feeling the warm tears being absorbed among my bed covers. Such a great man escaping from our earth, also from my heart.

     Before his death, life was such great fun, being near him, looking into his loving eyes, and feeling his warmth flow from his quiet face. Can one man possess such love and gratefulness for life? 

     I now so cleverly remember traipsing through the snow to feed the ever-so-precious livestock which he owned. I was a very little mite at the time; so I, thinking I was a big girl now, walked straight through the herd of sheep over to where my father was. I happened to walk past a large buck. The huge animal looked at me as though I would make a good butting post. I, being so little, thought he wanted to play house with me. As I moved closer, he did also, only moving quite a bit faster than I. Before I knew what had occurred, I was in my father's arms yelling my brains out. The buck noticing his prey had grown considerably, bowed out of his challenge. My father chased that buck around the barn several 

times, mostly to impress me, and boy, WAS I IMPRESSED. From then on my daddy was my number one love in all the world.

     As I grew older, I began doing things on my own, thinking I knew everything there was to know about life. As I found out later, my knowledge was very thin. A pre-teenager’s life may be hearts and flowers one day, and a total disaster the next. Whenever my world was falling apart, my father and mother was always on hand to smooth out the wrinkles. I can remember my big brother always picking on me and making sure I got into a lot of trouble. But, of course, he didn't fool my father,

who would stand up for me and make sure I learned to take care of myself against the foes of 1ife.

     After God felt it necessary to take him back and he left us when I was fourteen, I felt so empty. I watched my mother die inside from loneliness; I k e p t praying that he would appear to me in a dream and tell me that everything would be alright. Although I never saw him in my dreams, I always felt his presence beside me. He was still my number one love. 

     Now, so many years later, I have a family of my own and another number one love, my one biggest wish is for him to meet my husband, who is so much like him; see the way my daughter clings to her father as I did to mine; and meet my son, who I hope will acquire the same qualities and love for life as my father had.

     I could write a book about my many wonderful memories of my childhood and my father. But all I want to say now is that yes, I will remember you for all the love you shared with me and those who needed you. You had truly a sincere heart and I loved you so. Someday we will continue our special father- daughter relationship in a beautiful place and I can again be with my number one love.

-

                                           The story ended with this poem that is also on the front cover.

Death is not the total end

Only the physical part you lend.
He watches over me from above,
And continues to send his love.

The love he shares will be

A vast part of my memory,
Fathers like you are so few,
YES, I REMEMBER YOU ...