A Tribute To Dad

A TRIBUTE TO STERLING KING HIXSON AT HIS FUNERAL ON 13 SEPTEMBER 1997 BY HIS SON RICHARD STERLING HIXSON

May I begin by expressing how beautiful and reverent both the flowers and music are. They are both some of heaven on earth.

To four, fortunate children, my two sisters called him daddy and we two sons called him dad. Twenty-two called him grandpa, and sixteen great-grandchildren called him either grandpa Sterling or grandpa “H”, and to countless others he was also affectionately called “grandpa”. To the rest of the world he will be remembered simply and lovingly as Sterling, but a few, perhaps, may still remember him by his nickname, Bud.

It is fitting that one of all those pay tribute to dad. I requested to be that one, and pray for the spirit to be with me as I represent all of us children and grandchildren.

To you, his children, you have been blessed to have such a dad. He was one in a million, and to him you must be grateful. He helped to bring you into this life. He raised you and he taught you the correct principles of life. Under his care you learned to be good people. By his example alone, you knew, and know, how to pattern your lives. I admonish you to continue to follow that example, in order that we will be worthy to once again be with him where he is today.

To you grandchildren, and yes, to all of you who called him grandpa, you have the best grandpa in the whole wide world. To you very young ones, you may mostly remember that he was old and couldn’t hear too well, and kept asking, ‘what did you say?’, or you may even remember that his arms looked bruised and thin. While that is all true, it isn’t how I remember him when I was young.

I remember taking him a hot dinner, when he was on night shift at the Grace Power Plant. Mom would fix a plate of hot food, from our evening meal, put the plate in a big, straw colored basket, cover it with a dish towel, and I would carry it down the hill to the power plant and up the long, narrow stair way to his office, where I sat and watched him eat his hot meal, while I visited and looked at the meters and switches on the big board in front of his desk.

This was much like the last story dad told Luan and me. It was Sunday, the 24th of August, just three weeks ago, when we took him a hot sunday dinner. Dad said to us, “I remember when my dad was a street car operator in Salt Lake. My mother died when I was just 5 years old and I did a lot of things with my dad. I remember eating breakfast with him when he had early shifts. He packed enough food for both of us. We would go down to the barn and he’d find out what car he’d been assigned. He’d put the trolley up and get it ready, then go in and turn on the heaters on the seats. He would lift one of the seats up and put the sandwiches on the heater so it would toast them. That was fun; I looked forward to that”, he said.

I remember that he painted houses and repaired electric razors for extra money... in the winter, we made home made ice cream, using the ice from the water that froze as it leaked from the cracks in the sides of the flume.

He was very particular and even a perfectionist.... When he came home from work he would start picking up and straightening to help mom, and he would always help do the dishes. His desk and belongings were immaculate. Papers would be lined up in even fashion, nothing crooked. It was always strait and organized....

All of us remember Saturday chores with dad, that included cleaning windows, inside and out. He would be on one side and we would be on the other. He’d point to spots he could see that were not clean, even though we thought they were.... The lawns needed to be mowed the right way. He was always teaching ‘if it was worth doing, it needed to be done right’.

I remember our first television and wire recorder. He loved to watch Ed Sullivan, Perry Mason, Carol Burnett, and the Honeymooners. We loved to laugh with him as he enjoyed their comedy.

Saturday nights were family home evening nights for us, and we always had home made hamburgers with all of the trimmings. He would turn the bun upside down and toast it on the greasy, hot frying pan. When I became a teenager, and wanted to go out with my friends, I had a difficult time deciding between my friends and the home made hamburgers with my family.

It was a family event when dad called to our attention the car’s speedometer. He loved to have us all watch as the numbers slowly turned over to all the same numbers, such as all eights or nines....

He was never at rest until he had found and fixed every last squeak he could hear in the car.... I remember him teaching me how to drive in our old, stick-shift, pickup truck when I was fourteen. In addition to learning how to shift and use the clutch, he would have me see if I could keep the left side tires on the yellow line, trying to teach having control of the vehicle.

After moving from Grace to North Salt Lake and Bountiful, mom went to work. He would meet her downtown, to bring her home, and we each wanted to go with him.... He taught a lot about life as we watched the people walk up and down the sidewalk, as we waited for mom to finish her work. We are sure there were times that he would have preferred to go get mom by himself, so they could be alone together.

He loved baseball, especially the new york yankees, and each year the world series was a big event. He would tell us what was going on and we had our own personal, on-sight, color announcer.

He took the time to do things with his kids and their friends, including coaching little league, and trips to ensign peak.

The back yard was a special place. It housed his sun dial, the specially made play house for the girls, the homemade miniature golf courses with his sons, made with tuna fish cans, and the B-B gun target contests with his grand sons....

The grandchildren remember the quarters he would give them to buy a treat, or the magic tricks with the apple, the candy he would “blow” into a candy wrapper, and the dime that magically turned into a quarter. (Perhaps that is where all of the quarters came from to give to the grandchildren)....

He would teach them dutch songs, like “klap eens in je handjes blij, blij, blij, op je bolle koppetje alle bei. Zo varen de scheepjes voor bij, zo varen de scheepjes voor bij”.

He played the piano by ear and today we can think of that as we hear a piano medley.... Remember his money clip and how some of us now follow his example and have neatly folded, all in the same direction, dollar bills? - or more than dollars for those who are rich.

One granddaughter said, “I also loved it when he called me his “princess”. He said it in a way I felt I was the only one he said that to. But I knew he always called his daughters, and the other granddaughters, that too”......

Another said, “I’ll always remember grandpa “H” as a master-story teller. You wouldn’t have to talk long to him, to get him started on an interesting experience in his life, involving him or his family. I remember how descriptive and detailed he was and how much emotion and love for his family was revealed during his accounts of the past. Listeners became enthralled and entertained as grandpa was able to reminisce and even laugh at himself”.

Jana said, “I only met him twice, but those two times I noticed a peaceful attitude, a willingness to do whatever was asked of him”.

One grandson said, “I remember many wonderful things about grandpa, but two things stick out the most: his beautiful smile and laugh - it was very contagious; the second was his yellow toyota truck and our picture with all the grandkids piled in the back of it”.

Another grandson remembered the trips to Carmacks for donuts and root beer. Grandpa would always say, “grandma won’t let me come home unless I spend all this money”. He would also pay money for four-leaf clovers.

Still another grandson said, “grandpa used to leave the Chevy un-locked, hoping someone would steal it”. (He didn’t like the color blue). And almost everyone remembers how he would always drive away with his car door open, the door shutting by itself, as he pulled away from the curb.

It was also expected that anyone who was to get married had to seek his permission and approval first, and then, when that was done, without exception, each new person felt accepted for who he/she was.

Finally, the greatest of all of the memories and legacy, is his love and caring for everyone. Attention to others included: anonymous contributions, cards, letters, phone calls, visits, a touch on the shoulder, a hug, a genuine compliment, a tiny ring for each child and grandchild, generous tips and the paying of the bill.....and so much, much more. This is the dad, and grandpa, we all knew.

Luan’s mother wrote the following poem, that I pray will be an everlasting message to all of us:

What blessed heritage to be- a good ancestral family.

‘Tis more they give than wealth and fame

to carry on untarnished name. I’m like a plant with roots and stem-

so much of me is part of them. Will others follow, proud to see

that part of them is part of me.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.