My Dad

My father was the most generous person I’ve ever known, and he taught his children to be the same. My Dad’s philosophy was, “As long as I have a dime, you have a dime.” And he meant it. He didn’t just hand out money when he had extra, he handed it out when it meant he would go without. One of my favorite stories he told was how he went to grade school in Utah with a boy who was poor and bullied mercilessly. My father became his defender and when the boy showed up at school in deep winter with no hat, coat, or mittens, my father took off his coat and gave it to the boy. When my father went home after school without his coat, my grandmother was furious. She marched him over to the boy’s house to retrieve the coat, but when she saw the boy’s house, she gave them my father’s hat and mittens, and took off her own coat and gave them that too.

In my life, I saw my Dad give over and over, inviting endless people to our table, slipping secret checks under the door of a neighbor who had been out of work for a long time, or handing all the money in his wallet to someone he saw walking on the street with holes in their clothing.

He was the richest man I’ve ever known, not in money, but in love and family. We all adored him.

He always told us that when he died, he wanted a spring in his coffin, timed to make him sit up mid-funeral-service, turn to face the audience, and raise his middle finger. Then he’d laugh, wiping tears from his eyes, thinking about it.

After he died, leaving a hole in the universe too big to ever fill, my Mom asked me to write his obituary. I wrote one up and showed it to my sister, Maria. Maria snickered and said that’s going to cost you $1,000 to print. I laughed back at her, thinking she was joking. I’m sure no newspaper would charge for an obituary! That’s absurd! We are grieving, we are honoring our beloved, and no one reads newspapers anyway. I directed the funeral guy to put it in two newspapers. When he gave me the $2,000 bill for them, I nearly had a heart attack. WTF??? It’s true–they charge PER WORD, and for a man like my father, I wrote a lot of words.

Sigh.

If I had known, I would have written: See Facebook for obituary.

In any case, it’s impossible to put the life of someone so spectacular into words, but I gave it my best shot, and found myself laughing as I wrote about the funniest man I have ever known. One of his tricks was making all six of his children, his inlaw children, and his 25 grandchildren, all feel like they had a special bond with him. He was wonderful, leaving a trail of love and laughter and light. He made the world better. And what more could you want from life?

Here’s the million dollar obit I wrote:

Obituary for Thad McClure Johnson

May 29, 1937 – September 11, 2017

The world lost the brightest and merriest light on September 11, 2017, in Boston, MA with the passing of Thad McClure Johnson. Born in Provo to Allan and Inez Johnson, Thad was raised in Salt Lake and Orem along with his three sisters, Virginia, Travis, and Adele, and his older brother, Mick. Many might wonder what he was doing spending his last days in Boston. It sure as heck wasn’t to go visit historical houses, even though he was an avid history buff. It might have been to watch the Red Sox Winning Streak as nothing delighted Thad more than a hot dog and a good baseball game. But he actually came to Boston so I, his daughter, could take care of him, get him back on his feet… but we didn’t know how sick he was.

Thad graduated from BY High in 1955 where he was infamous for the time the art teacher assigned the students to “Bring something interesting to class to paint” and my Dad brought a cow into the school and dragged it up the stairs, right into the classroom. There was also the time he put Limburger cheese into the heating vents at the school, in the hopes school would be cancelled.

His mischievousness was just as strong as pre-high school, and he would tell us stories like the time he hung a mouse over the head of his sister, Virginia, sending her screaming out into the yard in her slip. Or the time he was standing out in his front yard with his Mom and family as his oldest brother, Mick, did a fly-by, flying his WW2 plane over the yard. During the war, food was rationed in Orem, Utah, and his mother wanted to make a nice meal on the Sunday Mick would be stopping home. She was crying because she had no rations to buy the food she needed. My father disappeared and handed her big stack of rations. She asked him where he had got them and he said behind the loose brick at the local store. She marched him back over to the store to return the rations and to tell the shop owner about the loose brick. Then there was the time he found a fence in the middle of nowhere and started trying to find out what was on the other side. He and his friends dug a hole underneath the fence and when they got to the other side, they were standing in the middle of a prison yard. For that particular adventure, he even appeared in the news.

At seventeen years old, Thad joined the Navy and was decorated many times for his bravery and his Mormon coffee, meaning, he had never made coffee before and when he had kitchen duty, he accidentally doubled the caffeine.

Thad was stationed in Rhode Island and San Diego, and it was while he was there that he found his “Hot Tamale” Marla Fackrell. He loved to tell about the moment he saw her from the deck of the USS Sperry and told his commanding officer, “I’m going to marry that girl.” My Dad always considered marrying my Mom his greatest achievement, and even in his last days, when he fell in the middle of the night and the paramedics had helped him back onto a chair, he looked at my Mom with her hair sticking up in the air, lying in bed half asleep, and he pointed at her, and said to the eight paramedics: “Isn’t she the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?”

He devoted himself to loving her and making her laugh for the next 60 years. He always said he was a terrible dancer, but I never saw him turn down a chance to dance with my Mom. After 6 children, 25 grandchildren and a million great-grandchildren, Thad was able to indulge his inner sports fanatic and attend every baseball, football, basketball, and water polo game, and even was willing to drive twelve hours to watch his grandchildren play, then turn around and head home. With his lead foot and love of driving, Thad was never accused of slowing down traffic, and many on the road were treated to the “Thad Johnson Glare” if he thought you were driving like a dumbass.

Thad’s colorful careers ranged from police officer to paramedic, Allan’s lumberyard to star salesman, where he was given an award every year for his sales prowess. If you spent any time with Thad, you are most likely familiar with laughing until you cry, the man never passed up the chance to tell a good joke, and his witty observations usually left a trail of people doubled over in laughter. Even in his last hours, he managed to flip the bird at his son who was expounding on the unhealthy dangers of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Thad loved cowboy songs, apple orchards, watching the ocean, and telling submarine stories that were at least 50% true. He was the ultimate patriot, and his proudest accomplishment, aside from my Mom and his family, was his time spent in the Navy.

Thad died knowing that The Pink Panther Strikes Again was the funniest movie ever, Calvin and Hobbes were the greatest life teachers, Elvis was the best singer on the planet, John Wayne was the MAN, bacon was healthy, and saltines could solve any ailment, from headaches to the flu. And if you threw in some vanilla ice cream and marshmallows, well, you could pretty much cure anything. Add a little whipped cream and you’re talking about world peace.

Thad loved to move his family around, and they lived in Utah, California, Arizona and Chicago. In his final month, he had moved to Boston to live with his daughter. We’re not sure if it was her multitude of loud pets or the cancer that finally did him in.

What we do know is that he is our most cherished Beloved, and the world won’t be the same without his deep wisdom and quick wit. His devotion to his family was unparalleled, and he leaves a legacy of people who not only love him deeply, but laugh harder, live to the fullest, and understand the unbridled joy of a strong family because of him. He was a mentor in what it means to be honest and kind, strong and brave, loyal and true, and most of all, that there is almost always something to laugh about. He kept the doctors and nurses laughing in his last days with his wise cracks (Do you know where you are? I sure as hell do… don’t you? If you don’t know I’m not going to tell you.”)

He will be deeply missed. He is survived by his beautiful wife, Marla, and six children, Carlos Johnson, Marlina Rhodes, Vaughn Johnson, Maria Day, Marci Johnson, and Marlise Cusick, their spouses and magical children and grandchildren (too many here to list or we’d go broke from the word count.).

Our Beloved