My father, Dexter LeRoy Henion was the embodiment of 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 where the Apostle Paul taught that charity - the pure love of Christ - “suffereth long and is kind, envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave himself unseemingly, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, beareth all things and endureth all things.” He was not a church-goer, but my father did not drink, smoke or use profanity. He maintained his youthful weight for his entire life by eating small portions and not allowing himself any second helpings. He drank one cup of coffee every morning - and one cup only. He was hardworking, committed to his family and managed all aspects of his life well, including his home life, his working life and his personal life.
Known as Dex or DL to his friends, coworkers and family - Dad passed away on Tuesday, June 17, 2008 at Corona Regional Hospital following a massive heart attack. He was born April 9, 1915 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Dad was the fourth child and the first son born to Harry Dexter Henion and Elsa Marie Werner. Other children born to Harry and Elsie are Leodice, Eloise, Juanita, Millard Fillmore, Daryl, Coral, and Lois.
Dad was about 8-years-old when the family relocated from Minnesota to Randle, Washington where my grandfather - who my father always said was his very best friend - worked in the timber. Together they spent summers working a uranium mine in the mountains, but Grandpa Henion would never tell anyone . . . and dad couldn’t remember, where the mine was though he spoke of it often and tried for many years to retrace their steps. My cousin, Cliff Elford, remembers time spent at the mine. "Grandpa had even gone to the expense of purchasing the large amount of mercury needed to separate the gold from other small pebbles which were washed out of the dirt. Barbara (Elford Larsen) still has the wooden cover photo book where we recorded our progress as the cabin was built. I am not sure I could ever find the place again but I am sure I could get pretty close. Of course 'close' in that country could mean several miles of pure wilderness."
When my dad was a junior in high school, my Grandpa Henion was injured in an explosion and due to the seriousness of the accident, he was unable to work for a long period of time. As the oldest son, my dad dropped out of school to work in the lumber mill as the sole support of his family, including his parents, two brothers and five sisters. After Grandpa Henion recovered, Dad went back to high school at age 20 to finish and graduate.
When the world was going politically crazy in 1940, Dad was drafted into the U. S. Army where he would ultimately be sent to serve in the Pacific Theater. In 1943 while riding on a bus in Portland, Oregon this drop dead gorgeous soldier boy, who would later become my father, spotted a beautiful black haired, green-eyed teenager in a pleated plaid skirt and penny loafers. He decided he wanted to get to know her better so he got off the bus at her stop and literally followed her home. They were married after a brief courtship, on June 26, 1943. Dad passed away one week short of 65 years together.
In addition to his cute little wife, Dad got an extra bonus when he married my mother, in the form of Doris’ mother Verda. The relationship between my dad and my Nana belied every mother-in-law joke any comedian has ever told. They were always very good friends and throughout my childhood, Nana went along on every Henion family vacation including many times sleeping on the hard ground in our big green tent! Our family eventually moved to California and bought the house next door to my grandparents. During the years we lived on the other side of the driveway, I don’t think my Dad and Nana ever had a cross word between them. After my grandfather passed away, it was my Dad who taught Nana to drive at age 58 and he was always on call whenever she needed help with something.
I was born about six weeks after Dad left for the Phillippines where he served for eighteen months before returning to his wife and daughter. Dad rarely, if ever, spoke of his World War II experiences, but I know he was proud of his service in the military and would have been pleased by the presence of the California Patriot Guard Riders in his honor who were present at his funeral to protect the sanctity of this day.
Among my dad’s many good qualities was his ability to keep a secret. On that note, I want to take a little sidestep here and tell you about my name! As I have said, Dad was overseas when I was b
orn. Mother wanted to name me Peggy Sue . . . the most popular name at the time, but dad wanted to name me after his mother, my grandmother Elsie Henion. My mother would not hear of it, but through letters back and forth they finally agreed my name should be Linda Carol (Linda was also very popular at the time and Carol is my Nana’s middle name). Years . . . and years later, while sitting around the Thanksgiving dinner table discussing some related topic, dad casually mentioned that I was named after his mother Elsie. We all looked at him as if he had lost his mind. What was he talking about, we all wanted to know? My name is Linda Carol . . . to which dad quietly said with a twinkle in his eyes, "that’s right . . . LC."
Our family was completed two years later when Larry was born in 1947. Growing up, Larry and I have many fun memories of our father. For instance, we always knew when he went to the grocery store for ice cream, he was going to come home with some kind of weird, bizarre, off the wall flavor like tutti frutti rocky road or licorice pecan swirl. And, until he was diagnosed with diabetes several years ago, he enjoyed making his own syrup in every imaginable flavor. We never knew what kind of syrup would be on our pancakes - licorice, maple walnut, coconut, peppermint . . .
I remember my 13th birthday - not because I had reached the teenage milestone, but because I came home from school to find my father had spent the afternoon creating a peanut butter cake with peanut butter icing and 13 candles.
Dad was the disciplinarian at our house, but he had set the ground rules early on, so we always knew there was a line we could never cross. He did not believe is screaming and shouting. As such, he created a paddle with a portion of a Franklin D. Roosevelt quote woodburned into it. He placed his handmade "big stick" in a very visible location as a reminder to always "speak softly!" Thankfully, Dad was a patient man so he seldom used his paddle.
Dad was a great whistler. I have always been a whistler, too as have several of my children and grandchildren. He had a very specific whistle when he wanted Larry and I to come home. He would step out on the porch and whistle. No matter where we were in the neighborhood and no matter what activity we were engaged in, we both knew it was in our best interest to head for home at a dead run!
Dad occasionally mentioned he had dreamed in his youth of becoming an architect, but when he returned from military service, he had a wife and a child. His father-in-law had strong feelings about his wish to "waste more time getting an education" when he should be out making a living to support his family. With his connections in the oil industry, Grandpa Bradford introduced Dad to employment with Shell Oil where he drove a truck and trailer for 38 years.
When my dad retired in 1980 he had a nearly perfect driving record . . . nearly, because there was that one incident as he was coming down a steep grade fully loaded. When he hit the brakes, he discovered he didn’t have any. He began frantically honking the horn and waving his arms to get cars out of the way. One man, in a shiny new yellow Volkswagen "bug" sensed the dangerous situation and raced ahead, parked his car, jumped out and began waving cars away. Once on flat grade, Dad managed to bring the truck to a stop, but not soon enough to avoid driving right over the top of the yellow Volkswagen. Of course, Shell Oil replaced the car, but Dad always felt bad he had injured the very one who had tried so hard to help him out.
In his working years, Dad would usually get up at 3 a.m., work twelve hours a day and be there when we got home from school. It was my dad who helped me with my homework and listened to all the teenage drama associated with my new loves, lost loves, test scores and everything else kids worry about. On his days off, my dad got up most mornings to fix my breakfast, make me a sack lunch and drive me to my early morning seminary class.
He and mother loved square dancing together - an activity they took up after he retired! They loved the fun of dancing together and the long time friendships they made - many who are here today to help us celebrate his life! Mother and dad danced in many communities and events and enjoyed five cruises over the years to faraway places with strange sounding names.
Dad loved his occasional trips to Las Vegas on their way to St. George. He won a little and lost a little, but because of his strict German mindset, he always stayed within the amount he had budgeted for play. At home he was a fiercely competitive game player who could play for hours and was notorious for taking no prisoners! Larry and I came down in April to help Dad celebrate his birthday. We taught dad a new card game we call Golf and we spent 3 days sitting at the kitchen table playing. He was new to the game and didn’t win every hand but, he caught on quickly and his competitive spirit - even at 93 - was still very much in evidence!
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He loved long, loud debates around the family dinner table and would always pick "the other side" no matter the topic. I remember one incident very clearly. We debated for a long time over a particular issue. After several hours of heated discussion, he stood up, shook himself like a wet puppy and said, "wow, that felt so good!!!" Until recently, I was always willing to take him on, but in the past several years I have taken a hard stand refusing to discuss the ugly subject of politics in America. He has tried many times to goad me into those conversations . . . without success . . . and finally told me "you’re not any fun anymore!" He and Larry had many political conversations by phone between Seattle and southern California. While they did not always agree, Dad appreciated the opportunity to debate issues and even suggested Larry should run for public office.
The last time Mom and Dad made their annual holiday trip to St. George was Christmas of 2006. In anticipation of their visit, I arranged a "mystery trip" for my dad knowing how much he loved outdoor adventure. My youngest daughter and her husband arranged to have four ATV’s available for all of us to ride. I took my brother, and my husband took my dad, and we set out across our world renowned red rock desert landscape. Larry finally admitted he had enjoyed the day, but Dad . . . I don’t think it was an adventure he would have liked to repeat. On the ride home, he just shook his head and said, "Linda, of all the stupid things you have ever got me involved in, this is by far the most stupid!"
My father was a good man but stubborn to the core and certainly an example of our family adage, "You can tell a German, but you can’t tell him much!" In all my life I never heard him say a swear word and I rarely heard him say anything negative about anyone - except politicians. He loved to tinker on his cars and was an expert do-it-yourselfer who could fix just about anything. He was mom’s assistant on many of her sewing projects making her patterns and helping her cut things out. Throughout his working life, he worked hard, rarely took a sick day and I don’t think he ever missed a paycheck in his adult life. He was always fit and trim, paid his taxes without argument, was ever courteous and kind, particularly to women and had the patience of Job and a deep love for my mother throughout their nearly 65 years together.
The Proclamation on the Family, issued 13 years ago by the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints speaks to parents. "Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children. Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, to teach them to love and serve one another, to observe the commandments of God and to be law-abiding citizens wherever they live." I believe my father embraced this teaching long before it was introduced to the world by a living prophet - Gordon B. Hinckley - in 1995. I am proud to say I am Dex Henion’s daughter.
Traditionally we would have been up on a mountain top doing arts and crafts, roasting marshmallows and enjoying mystery trips on the week of Utah’s July 24th Pioneer Day, but Kaytee’s first baby was due on July 16. Because of the pending birth, we decided it was more important to stay close to home, so for the first time in 7 years we cancelled Cuz’N Camp which usually involves six cousins, grandparents and Aunt Kaytee. Our precious and beautiful 8th granddaughter Adyn Postma was born on Tuesday, July 8 in St. George weighing in at an even 7 lbs. (see more about Adyn,including lots and lots of pictures at http://www.joshloveskaytee.blogspot.com)/). As it turns out, we actually had a Cuz’N Camp of sorts, though it was completely unplanned and absolutely spontaneous. Tylre had been in Utah for several weeks visiting her father. Stacy had planned a trip to visit Kris, so Tylre and Zac had come to St. George and were waiting for Stacy to finish her work week so she, Kendi, Taisley, Allysa and Kris’ kids could all drive to Sonoma. Unbeknownst to all of us, Whitney was also in town visiting her dad. So when A
dyn came into the world healthy and whole at 11:10 a.m., six of her eleven cousins were there to welcome her! We surprised everyone by gathering them all together and visiting Aunt Kaytee and Adyn at the hospital. Now THAT was a mystery trip the cousins will not soon forget. No question, Adyn is the youngest of our 12 grandchildren to ever attend Cuz’N Camp, though she didn’t get a t-shirt. If there had been a t-shirt, 2008 would have been called Camp Serendipity!
With Zac here for a visit, there simply HAD to be a Mystery Trip (or two). The first of the day was swimming at the new Wyndham Hotel where the Blacketts (our friends from Logan) were staying. After everyone was dry, we headed out for Staheli Farm and the annual Corn Maize! Such fun . . . we petted the animals (llamas, pigs, horses, goats and other furry critters). The kids enjoyed the mile-high swing and an industrial strength slide! We rode the wagon over to the Corn Maize where we got lost for a while but "followed the light" back to our starting point. Then we got into another wagon and rode out to the Pumpkin Patch where we found a perfect Halloween jack-o-lantern for Taisley. The afternoon was dusty, dirty and expensive, but tons of fun! 
