Three Pictures, Three memories

Dad,

Happy Father's Day.  I have selected three photos from my family that remind me of you.  The first represents attending our sporting events.  You never missed a game.  You attended each of my games and took video footage each time.  You knew how I loved to watch the game when I got home later.  You would at times provide me pointers on things I could do to improve my game.  You always sat at the top of the stands to get an unobstructed view of the action.  You set an example for me that I now strive to do for my children.  Thank you for your constant support.

NEVER MISSED A GAME

The next picture, entitled "Rule of Thirds" reminds me all the different instructions you have given me throughout my life.  You taught me how to change tires, load film into a camera, take photographs, increase vocabulary (Verbal Advantage), entertain a group, not be afraid of a crowd, people do what you inspect not what you expect, changing the car battery, etc.  You were always looking to teach.  I cherish the lessons I have learned from you.  I find them useful every day.

RULE OF THIRDS

I love that you were always trying out new games and activities.  From balloon launchers to kites to bocce ball.  You often had something new to try.  Bocce ball was one of my favorites.  It was game that we could all play on the same level no matter the age.  I could finally compete with my 6'10'' sibling when I was a foot smaller in junior high.  I continue this tradition now with my children.  We even have a dedicated bocce court here where we live.

 BOCCE BALL

 

Dad, I love you!  Thank you for who you are.  I cherish so many wonderful lessons you have taught me so many experiences we have shared together.  Borks

Kindness

This past Sunday my children and I sat on the ground and constructed impenetrable towers at various spots of the hallway.  We then took a tennis ball and tried to knock the towers down by rolling it across the floor.  My kids loved it and I actually love this game as well because it reminds me of when I was a child and my father would do the same for me.  We would line of these juggling pins and take some heavy juggling balls and try to knock down the pins.  My father was 6'8'', 200+ lbs and could barely fit in the hallway but there he was at the opposite end kindly dedicating his time to me with senseless fun.

Kindness is one of my father's greatest qualities.  He never yelled at me.  He certainly was upset at times but never yelled.  I never heard a swear word come out of his mouth.  He would come home from his business trips and always bring me a magic pen book.  It was the type of book that words and pictures would appear with a special highlighter.  I loved those activities.  He always took the time to teach me.  If he was changing tires or fixing something in the car, he would teach me how it was done.  As we would drive to Utah and spend 10 hours together on the road he would teach me good principles of driving.  Now my father understood the importance of repetition because some of this teachings were repeated multiple times.  I still to this day don't know if he realized he was repeating or if just simply forgot he had already shared that particular pearl.  Examples include "Don't Force It", "Never back up more than you need", "Always stay 2 seconds behind the person in front of you when driving", "Keep your hands at 10 and 2", "When you are on the toilet, avoid making a lot of noise, you may get hemorrhoids".  Actually, he only had to tell me the last one once.

My dad was thoughtful of others.  There was a man where we grew up that all of us kids called "Billy was a bad guy"  We attended church with this man and he was truly a loner.  I believe he was friendless until my dad started reaching out to him.  They became good friends.  My father would take foods and new dishes he was trying to the neighbors.  He would make hanging flower cradles made of wood and give them to his neighbors and friends.  Many times he would do this anonymously.  He was often trying to share with others that which meant the most to him, his testimony of the gospel.  Many a family home evening, we would sit down and try to construct the perfect letter for our friends to invite them to church or an activity.  He was a good missionary.

As I got older, my dad would still travel to Utah to attend my various concerts and activities.  He was there at every graduation ceremony as well.  He was always 100% supportive.  He knew how to complement as well.  He knew to complement on something specific he observed truly showing you he was genuinely interested in your accomplishment.

Today my father continues to show his kindness.  He sends all his children ideas on family home evening.  He writes us his favorite quotes.  He has used his carpentry skills to construct wonderful gifts for his grandchildren.  He sends me articles in the mail that he thinks would be pertinent to my patient's needs.  In fact, yesterday, I saw a young man who was needing a physical for football.  He had just left practice and he was feeling a bit nauseous as it was close to 90 degrees outside.  He was obviously dehydrated and needed more water breaks during his practice.  His mother said, Dr. Smith, can you give me anything for the coaches so that they are more aware of this danger with our kids.  I reached in my shirt pocket and pulled out an article my father sent to me in the mail entitled Kids, Sports and Heat Stroke.  I made her copy and read to them a few pointers to help them out.  It was awesome, my dad was so cool to send me that article when he did.  He is always thinking of us his children and grandchildren.  We are at the front of his priorities and I have never doubted this at all.

Dad, just thinking of you today and everyday.  Thank you for your wonderful influence and example of kindness.  Love The Borks

El Dia de la Padre

In medicine we often speak of a support system.  After a woman gives birth to an infant I always enquire regarding her support system and no I am not referring to her panty hose or brazier.  I want to know, does she have family in town, is she married, other children, friends, etc.  I want to make sure she has someone to lean on when times are tough and most of us know times can be very tough with a newborn.  Well, I would like to take a moment and write of my support system growing up at home.  Since this is Father's day, I will focus on my dad.


My father was his children's biggest fan.  He attended every single sporting event.  He attended every single musical event.  These included events that were on an island in the Pacific Ocean or 10 hours away northeast of California in Utah Valley.  My father would get in the car after work at 6pm on a Friday evening and drive either through the night or stopping once to attend a basketball game the following day at the Marriott Center.  He somehow, always had a press pass, either because he worked for Kodak and took professional pictures or because of his "Santiago Wear", and he would sit on the ground and snap shots of my brother and his teammates.  Then within 24 hours he would turn around and drive back another 10 hours to get to work on Monday.  How did I know?  Well, I was usually accompanying him.  


He attended my sister's recitals, my other brother's football games, my musicals and that reference to the island was for Gaka's sporting events, my oldest brother who attended college in Hawaii.  During my high school years, my father would sit in the stands with a video camera.  He filmed each of my games.  Then he would review them with me and either give pointers or simply watch the game over again with me for second time.  Dad continues this legacy as he now supports his grandchildren and their endeavors.  He recently attended a phenomenal performance by a grandchild who played lead in a high school musical.  By the end of the performance, there was a puddle under his chair from his constant tears.  He seems to be touched easier as he gets older.


Out of all these, however, I will never forget a particular moment where his presence and embrace impacted me for life.  I was playing high school basketball in my senior year.  As a member of my family, there was a lot of pressure to do well in sports.  My three older brothers all held records in the high school, including Gaka for most handsome athlete, and so I was the caboose intended to out shine them all.  However, I was missing a few inches compared to two of them and a lot of talent compared to all of them.  Regardless, I had a fighting spirit especially when we competed against Wilson.  They were our biggest rival and this particular year they were good.  We were not half bad but our team was made more of cooperation and spirit as opposed to height and talent.  The game was played before a packed Wilson Gym.  I was playing against some friends that had come to the house when we were in elementary school to dunk on our outside height-adjusting court.  Let us just say that the heat was on so much during this game that those elementary memories were pushed way aside.  By halftime the game was tied.  I was discouraged because like many games that year I had not scored very many by that point in the game.  By the end of the game we had won the battle.  My coach, our fans and my teammates were so thrilled.  For most of us it was like winning a national championship.  For me, however, it was a failure.  Once again, in spite of the team win, I was discouraged with what I viewed as a minimal contribution.  The fans started to come to the floor congratulating all of us, I hid my true emotions, that is until I saw my dad.  Our eyes met and I lost it, crying like a baby as a senior athlete in high school.  My dad just held me and hid me in his 6'8'', 240 lb frame.  I am not sure he understood then but I was so grateful he was there to support me that day and I will never forget that moment I was able to hide in his embrace and feel of his unconditional love.


Dad, this Father's Day, I want you to know that I love you.  I am grateful for who you are and  the life you live.  I am grateful for those great memories of driving across the west, sleeping at my sister's or the Royal Inn and watching so many events with you.  I love you dad.  I hope your day goes well.  The Borks

West Side Drive-In

I had the privilege of taking my father out to lunch.  My wife, our two older children and grandma went to see Wicked, a broadway musical that had come to town.  That left me, dad, the two younger boys and my pager.  "Little C", my five year old, and I decided to take grandpa out to lunch.  This was such a simple but thrilling event for me.  For years my father would take us out to eat at the various unique restaurants and holes in the wall around southern California.  He knew them all.  After temple trips it was the Jewish restaurant in Santa Monica or Tommy's.  After General Priesthood meetings it was In-N-Out or Tommy's.  On our way to LA, the hidden Japanese Tempura restaurant or Tommy's.  Toward Riverside, a lunch place with fresh banana cream pie or...you get the picture.  Hot Pastrami, Hot Tamales, Chile Cheese Fries, Taquitos.  El Patio, El Pollo (Loco), El Guapo and more.  Then there were the dessert joints.  Swenson's ice cream, Thrifty ice cream, 31 and the ever sacred, Hagen Daz.  My father had a particular way of eating his ice cream.  There were always two musts.  It must be hard, it must include extra sauce.  I can just picture him even today, asking the clerk if there ice cream is hard.  I can't imagine how many times, one of those servers, wanted to probably say, "Why don't you come back and check it yourself?"  Either way, hard or soft my dad would still consume every bite to the last drop.

Now consumption was an entirely different story.  My father could enjoy any one of the above delicious meals while driving a car.  Soft drink with straw, no challenge.  Milk shake with spoon, piece of cake.  Chile cheese fries, not one stain.  Hot tamales with chile and cheese in a rectangular paper bowl, fork and all.  Now this I have to explain in more detail.  The Tamale inside it's paper receptacle, would sit on top of the dash, the soft drink between the legs.  Then in the right moment, which I did not know of a wrong moment, my father would lean forward, cut the tamale then shovel it into his mouth while steering with his legs.  It was awesome.  I would sometimes stare and be in awe.  One day I would be able to achieve such a task.  All this and next to the tamale in the company car was a sign, "30 years of safe driving" awarded to my dad.  I was proud, he drove safely and could enjoy a four course meal while doing it.

Now you might understand why taking my father to one of our local burger joints was such a thrill.  We walked up to the dirty floor at the window where you order.  You could just see years of fallen fries and broken ketchup packages fossilized into the ground.  The grease smell was disgusting in yet enticing simultaneously.  There were 100's of dead flies within the groove of the order window.  Who cares, the food was great.  There was a picture of one of the dudes from cable T.V. that goes around trying authentic foods but we all know will one day soon kick the bucket from atherosclerotic plaque.  But, his picture validated our choice that day.  The food was ordered and eaten.  The shakes were chosen and downed.  We were done within minutes.  My father surprisingly could not eat his entire hamburger like he used to eat.  He ate each bite hunched over like an old man.  It is not fun to see this great man get old but I guess it is inevitable.

We finally, finished and headed back.  Little C loved the food and desires to return.  He was so excited to go to lunch with my father.  Oh, if he only knew what it meant for me.  Love you Dad, thanks for the great memories.  The Borks

Piles

It was 10 am on a Saturday.  I was not much for sleeping in, but Saturday's for me were sacred as they are for many.  I tried not to plan anything on that day so as to relax, listen to music, watch T.V. and essentially veg the day away as any high school student would do.  However, this particular Saturday, which was truthfully just like any other Saturday, my father needed help with the piles.
Booooorrrrkks!   Boooooooooorrrrkkkssss!!!  BOOOOOOOOOOORRRRKKKKSSSSSS!!!!!

Borks was a nickname I gave myself as a 4 year old.  My father had the tendency to call my name with crescendo.  The first time he would call me, I would pretend to be in a location in our 2000 square foot home where I could not hear him.  Or, I would immediately put on headphones so he would think that is why I did not come.  The second call would give me goose bumps.  He knew I heard.  He knew I ignored. I hope he did not take it personally, I just did not want to pick up piles on a Saturday.  Then the third call.  The third call manipulated my body.  Just by calling my name and somehow making this one syllable word seem like the longest word in the dictionary, it would take control of my legs, make my heart rate accelerate and send me out to pick up the piles.

There were a variety of piles.  One of sharp juniper, another of the squared shaped green leafy tree.  There was a pile of a thick leafy bush.  The leaves of this bush would bleed clear fluid if you broke them in two.  They made a great ingredient for my friends and my famous yard soup.  There was a pile of grey dust, darker dust, sawdust and as I got older, plastic dust from photo cutouts of the grandkids.  There were large piles, small piles, fat piles but no rat piles.  The piles were in the grass, along the wall, on the cracked driveway and in the garage.  They were on the side yard and on the patio.  These piles were made each Saturday morning by Big D and his tools.  He used a broom, an edger, a weedwacker, lawnmower and other various tools.  I too, became proficient with each of these tools.  His words still ring in my head.  "Borks, don't cut the cord or you will die."

By the end of the afternoon, the piles would be gone.  The yard looked sharp.  It was not a huge yard but it was well kept.  I would feel proud in spite of my reluctance in the morning.  This past week, I along with my beautiful but strong wife and later with our kids, moved a large pile.  We moved 4 cubic yards of soil to the backyard from the front in preparation for a vegetable and herb garden.  I needed to move the pile on a rainy day in order to take advantage of the time I had.  As I moved the wheel barrel at least 50 times back and forth, I remembered the simple piles made by Big D.  I felt grateful.  I better understood the hearts of the children turning to the fathers and fathers to the children.  I realized that by picking up piles, putting on the roof, changing the tires, building the shelves, painting the patio, grooming the yard and much more, my father, Big D, was teaching me.  He taught me the importance of work and instilled in me a desire to grow.  Big D, thank you!  Thank you for the piles.  I may of scattered when you called but now love to make piles myself.  Now, awaiting the confidence that I can pass along the same lessons and more to my own.  Love Borks

Brown Suit

I remember a time in the 6th grade when I was getting ready for school.  I decided to where blue jeans and a white "t" but I could not decide if I should tuck my shirt in or not.  I asked my dad, since he always smelled good and wore a nice suit to work every day.  My dad said to tuck it in.   So I did.  "By the way, Dad, were you cool when you were my age?"  I asked.  "Not really."  Replied my dad.  "Okay, see ya!"  I untucked the shirt and ran to school.

Big D was actually a very good dresser for the most part.  He always looked really sharp in a suit.  His 6'7'' frame, large shoulders and huge feet and hands made you feel like nothing could ever harm you.  He always wore designer ties, or at least they looked designer with a tie clip that represented his excellence in college.  He would leave smelling great and return smelling great.  However, when he got home, within minutes he would put on his "Santiago Wear."  I remember thinking that my brothers actually were jealous of his Santiago Wear because they talked about it so much.  I figured he met someone named Santiago who designed their own line of clothing and that he was from somewhere in South America.  My dad had a way of making new friends and then learning how to obtain what they did best like Santiago Wear or salsa recipes.  Santiago Wear consisted of white or black sweats and a white t shirt.  He would sometimes still be wearing his dress shoes with this outfit and as a kid, I thought it was pretty cool but now I realize it wasn't and that my brothers were actually teasing him.  I still don't know who Santiago is but whoever he is, he sure did not know how to design clothing.

All joking aside, the reason I was pondering this today was because I wore all brown to work.  Dark brown slacks and a tan dress shirt, no tie.  As a pediatrician I don't usually wear a tie as it can get in the way of my work.  When I dressed, however, I remembered my dad said never to wear an all brown suit or an all green suit as these were signs of failure when it came to business.  Big D was good about knowing these little tips of success.  I guess it came with his training as a successful salesman or maybe these were little tips thrown into his "Verbal Advantage" tapes he would listen to to expand his vocabulary.  Big D, thank you for the clothing tips, I can't say I always followed them but they obviously are stuck in my mind.  Probably stuck because of my admiration of you growing up and now.

DH

Ode to Jimmer!

The television
viewed by millions
across the nation
across the earth
the diversity vast
but all with same question,
will the Gator's be next?
Will they get Jimmered?
The game
tough
minimal calls
cut on the chin
bleeding
Red bruise on the shoulder
pulsating
Jaw clenched, not relaxed
shots not falling beyond the mark
Gators not interested
in losing again
Gators pull through
Hearts content
but the millions who viewed
hearts sink to the depths
10 year old boys
wearing 32!
Anticipate, hope
Disappointment severe last night
One comments, "Dad?"
"This will never happen again."
Tears filling, tired, emotional
stayed up till his age to watch
"We will never have a Jimmer,
again.  We will never make to
this round again."
Son
Glass half empty
Jimmer is not done
Remember
utah got Jimmered
gonzaga got Jimmered
sdsu got Jimmered
new mexico got Jimmered
Son, Jimmer's spark
will always inspire
His forty foot shots
Wow
His drive to the hole
Fierce
His free throws
Automatic
His pump fake
to the line
His left hand
His right hand
His hops and hangtime
His team
A defensive player of the year
A big man who can nail the three
A freshman who somehow
grabs the rebound over the largest,
strongest big men in the country
Son, we won't forget this year
We will cherish it forever
And guess what?
Jimmer ain't done
He will go on and then,
then we will say
LA got Jimmered
Mavs got Jimmered
Utah got Jimmered
Oh, yes they will get Jimmered
Besides, son, I have witnessed
the past
There have been others like him
I at your age wore 32
on my back, it said
Is my Bro!
Smith
He was thrilling!
6'10''
Intelligent
Athletic
Flamboyant
Won first NCAA three point
contest
Free throws
automatic
30 point games
all the time
WAC Champ
in the bag
Team top of the country
Usevitch
Chapman
Taylor
Haws
What a team!
Son, these type of players
come all the time
the next level
full of them
Son, let us go to bed content
let us remember the great season
when the comments come at work
at school
insensitive
let us smile and say Jimmer ain't done
Thank you Jimmer
What a great career so far to say the least
Good Luck!
We will follow
Millions will follow
across the nation
across the earth
Diversity vast but with one question
Who will get Jimmered next?