Remembering Silas

My grandfather on my mother’s side is Silas Crosby. He was a rough around the edges old cowboy turned construction worker. He was born in Panguitch Utah the oldest of eight boys. To me he was simply grandpa. I have great memories of fishing with him. The first fish I ever caught was on Smith and Morehouse reservoir with grandpa. I remember a trip to Strawberry with grandpa and his old pal Dennis. We were in grandpa's old blue boat. The girls didn't get to go fishing with grandpa. He said that it had nothing to do with gender, just aim. Once you were on the lake, you did not come back to shore. If you could pee in a can you could go on the boat. Even thought he was a tough old guy, he always kept a close eye on me on these trips. I always felt safe and knew that he was watching out for me.

Grandpa was a construction boss for a company that built churches. He and grandma would move around to where the job site was. This gave us the chance to travel and visit them. The first trip that I remember was to visit them in Flagstaff Arizona. They lived in a really cool apartment. We went to the Grand Canyon, to some Indian ruins and we rode on a ski lift. These were all great, but the ski lift was the most memorable. The two things that stand out in my memory were the coats that the ski lodge let us use and my mom screaming in terror on the ride. To a little boy who was having a great time, seeing your mom so scared was pretty funny.

The trip I remember the most was when I went by my self to LaGrande Oregon with grandpa and grandma. Grandpa has come up with an idea of some work that I could do on the job site for him. The drive there was great. We stopped at the Red Barron cafe in Brigham City Utah for breakfast. I had the best pancakes in the world Then in LaGrande, we went to the "hog joint". This was a small buffet restaurant. I have no idea what it was really called, but grandpa called it the "hog joint" because everyone made a pig of themselves. My job was to crawl through the access tunnels that run under the church and sweep up all the dust and debris that had fallen down there. For a boy it was like going on your own journey to the center of the earth. I loved it. Grandpa and grandma couldn't leave the job site to bring me back so I got a real adventure coming home. Some friends of theirs were heading back to Utah, but were only going as far as Tremonton. There they put me on a greyhound bus. To a small boy this was scary and exciting. I had never traveled alone before. Of course mom and dad were waiting in Salt Lake at the bus station when I arrived.

I remember standing with grandpa next to grandma's casket in the funeral home and seeing him cry for the first time in my life. He was wondering if she would be able to forgive him for the way he had taken care of her in her declining years. Of course there was nothing to forgive. He loved her so much and was there by her side everyday.

I would love to exit this world as he did. The day he died we had a big family party at my parent’s home. I sat in a chair next to him joking as always till ten in the evening. Two hours later my parents called to say that he had simply slumped over and was gone. A few months earlier he was told that he had congestive heart failure. He was staying with my uncle in Kanab and we wanted to visit him. When we walked in he said "if you are here for a wake, you'll be disappointed. I'm not going anywhere." He had a great time showing my kids his latest toys. He had a robot bank that ate money and a little mechanical dog that would do flips.

There was never a question in my mind that I was special to him. I hope that I will be able to pass this same feeling on to my grand kids when the day comes.