Slowly, but Shirley

Happy 60th Birthday, Dad! To honor you on this auspicious occasion, your children have compiled 60 favorite memories for you to peruse on your special day! We all love you so much, and wish we could be there in person for a celebration. Since we can't, we thought this would be the next best gift we could give you. Enjoy!

60 Favorite Memories Of Scott Shirley on his 60th Birthday

1 Conner (click on drawing for a better view)

2 Claire

3 Rafe: "I like it when you tell stories. I also like going in your canal. I like it when we hike at Cress Creek."

4 Holland

5 Janet : In the “olden days,” in the summertime, we’d hang out at the Virgins' place. We’d climb up the apple trees and sit on top of the garage and eat green apples sprinkled with salt and baking soda, and squish “Prell” bugs (caterpillars). 6 Janet : We also had a “raft” that stayed in the canal across from our house made out wood mounted on top of two big metal barrels. Another summertime activity was going over to Bruce and Cindy Summers’ place. They had a Shetland pony named “Blacky” that we used to ride. He was an ornery cuss. We’d ride him down the dirt road, and then when it came time to return, Blacky would turn on the jets for return to the barn. Sometimes he’d turn the corner into the Summers’ driveway and if you weren’t paying attention, you’d get scraped off on a fencepost. In the wintertime, we used to skate on the canal when it was frozen. 7 Janet: I’ll never forget the night Bruce and Cindy Summers picked Scott and I up in Bruce’s Thunderbird so we could ride to mutual (now known as YM/YW) together. We got as far as Virgins’ place when a cow ran out in front of the car and Bruce slammed into it. Scott was sitting in the front passenger seat, and on impact, his door popped open and cow crap flew in and splattered him. He thought he was bleeding...for just a moment... I remember Elmer Timothy, a pesky local insurance salesman, who often came calling at our house. One day when he was leaving to get in his car, Scott came sneaking up behind him, pretending to whack Elmer over the head. Elmer was oblivious to Scott’s antics, but the rest of us were laughing our heads off.

8 Brent Kinghorn: remembers walking into the Hart Auditorium the day after the Teton Dam flood and having Scott call out his name. This was his first connection with family and he was so grateful to hear that his family was all safe. 9 Jean remembers spending the afternoon with Scott, Jenna, and Grandma Kinghorn on the hill by the Lincoln school in Rexburg. Scott had parked his car in Brent and Jean’s garage and ridden into town with Grandma. Jan was in Idaho Falls having just given birth to Jeff the day before. We were all without partners and had responsibility for most of the Kinghorn family children. It was a sobering afternoon, but we were all safe for which we were so very grateful. 10 Brent and Jean: We both remember watching Scott accompany the children at Hibbard Elementary at their annual Christmas program. Scott’s music has brightened many occasions. We remember watching Scott go through that miserable experience with his back—he truly suffered. Brent remembers watching Scott lead their horse around the corral with our children on the horse’s back. Brent said how he admired Scott for taking night class after night class and getting first a Bachelor’s degree, then a Master’s and then a six year administrative certificate. He has excelled professionally and is highly respected in the education world. Jean remembers his infectious laugh—he does enjoy life.Jean remembers his visiting with our sons in Spanish. It was special for all of them. Jean remembers how thoughtful Scott was to Grandma and Grandpa Kinghorn especially towards the end of their life. They did love him. 11 Allison Farnsworth: This is more of a Hannah and Chloe memory. Last May we went to Idaho and stayed with Scott and Jan.Scott told my kids a night time story. A line from the story was "hocus pocus, my eyes won't focus." Now my girls say that every time I say Uncle Scott. Or anytime they see him. I personally don't have a specific memory, I just remember his laugh. He has a great laugh. Having the sense of humor that he does, we hear his laugh often.

12 Brandon: I wrote this poem in an attempt to describe the sound Dad's nose makes when we would blow it in the morning.

A nose Blowing

Where darkness lands nightly and comfortably clings

A butterfly restoring strength to its travel weary wings

That flex, relax, flex, relax, and rest an open yawn,

Before the chase begins again at dawn

In a house’s deep corners, used and unused rooms,

Is startled as are sleepers, not by light but by boom.

My dad’s nose erupts every morning and shakes

A daily Krakatoa: one blow

two Blow

three BLOW!

Tsunamis of sound approach soundlessly sleepers

That rattle and rumble and batter and break,

Unsettles the walls and throw down nighttime keepers

Employed to protect me from creaking and speak.

Each morning begins with this powerful blow,

Despite all the blankets and precisely placed pillows

This morning dread, this audible pyroclastic flow

Still tramples the walls of my nocturnal Jericho.

Brandon Shirley

13 Brandon: Dad lives and breathes music. I have so many memories of Dad playing music. I always recall hearing Dad play his "fiddle" with Nephiha at Grandma & Grandpa Shirley's on Sunday evenings. We danced to his fast piano playing. He demonstrated his mad drumming skills on a drum set I rented. He tried his hand at the violin, the banjo, and the mandolin. I'll never forget the time he brought me along to play "Canon in D" at Guitar's Unplugged. I am sure that your musical ability has only become better with age.

Brandon: Dad is one of those people that you want to have around during a difficult situation. He has this uncanny ability to say whatever needs to be said or do whatever needs to be done at a given moment to make the situation better. He has such a vast trove of knowledge from which to draw upon that he need not spend much time at all wondering what he should say or what he should do.

15 Grant: One of my favorite memories of Grandpa Shirley (that I can remember) is when he pulled me on an inner tube behind the four-wheeler. I really liked because I have never done anything like that before. I liked getting pulled, but also that Grandpa let me drive (he was riding with Grant, of course). He also spent some time with me throwing the ball for Annie. Grandpa always does such fun things with me when I visit Idaho. 16 Brandon: Dad used to drag me and Brett behind the car on a plastic sled when the roads were iced over. We would pull our hats down over our eyes and face to guard against wind chill. One day, as Dad rounded a right corner, we swung out wide to the left. With our hats pulled down over our faces, we did not have time to react to the parked car that was directly in our path. Whichever one of us was in the front hit the bumper first and reverse head-butted the one behind. We laid there crying until Dad pulled us out and drove us home. He made things alright. As evidenced by the picture, he never really gave up the sled pulling, but he is taking things much slower with age, not a bad thing.

Jenna: I will always the remember the summer that you were away in Provo going to summer school. We missed you and were always looking forward to seeing you again. I have the funnest memory of coming home from town and you jumping out of a closet to surprise us. We must not have known you were coming that day, or at least if Mom knew, she didn't tell us kids. You parked across the street at Johnson's so we wouldn't see your car.

To go along with that, I remember visiting you in Provo when you were living there. I remember meeting your roommate, a big Tongan guy, I think. And I remember being so bemused by this idea that you, my dad, had a roommate in a dorm in Provo, and that you played ping pong with all these people I never would meet. It was strange to imagine this other life, I guess. And I was glad that it was only for a summer.

Jenna: The family was watching Golden Girls one night when one of those gold girls mentioned something about menopause. I asked nonchalantly, "What is menopause?" Soon after that, Jeff and I were bouncing along in the truck with Dad getting the basics of maturation. I had no idea I was opening canned worms with my innocent question, but I was glad to know that I was able to get answers for delicate questions. There were other truck rides with other delicate topics I remember having with Dad. I got most of the facts on those rides, and some others learned on the school bus got straightened out.

Jenna: In high school I auditioned for Madison Avenue Players (MAPS), auditions for a a drama club which, I didn't know at the time, were unnecessary, since the drama coach already knew who he wanted in the club. Members of this club were the only ones that got to be in any of the school's plays. I auditioned, and Dad came to watch me. Even as I auditioned, I knew this wasn't my bag. I was uneasy and it showed, and I cast nervous eyes to my dad sitting close by the stage while I sang a cute little song and dance number Carolyn Bennett dug up for me. I shouldn't have been surprised the next day to find out I hadn't made the cut, but it hurt just the same, and when I came home, I relayed the sad news and fled to the river for some solace. I sat on the riverbank and let the swirling rapids calm me down. I was amazed to see an elk drinking water upriver. Soon Dad showed up. I didn't know he had followed me, or maybe he just knew me well enough to know where I would go. He came, and I don't remember what he said, but I know that I felt better, knowing I meant so much to my dad, knowing he would always comfort me when I needed comforting. I love that memory: first, because that elk was there, first and only time I saw one in that spot. A gift from my Father in Heaven. And second, because of the gift of having my dad there.

Jenna: But of all my memories, my favorites are watching Dad perform. When he's on stage, he is alive! He is confident and hilarious and the audience always responds easily to him, and he is not self-conscious at all. He pulls funny faces and can play instruments and sing with such ease. He's a showman at heart.

Rebecca Taylor: For the last year or two, our family has been fortunate to have Scott Shirley as our home teacher. Shortly after he became our hometeacher, a coworker of his persuaded him to care for a parrot that had been abused by it's previous owner. With consistent effort and love, Scott began to earn the parrot's trust and try and help the parrot overcome the troubling effects that the abuse had caused. Scott promised the kids that he would bring the parrot for them to meet. True to his word, Scott and the parrot showed up at our home and were received by a group of delighted children. I have always been grateful for Scott's ability to recognize the good in other's and to never give up on helping other's try to find that good in themselves. In August of 2010, I was entering the final semester of my Bachelor's program at BYU-Idaho and found myself in the midst of a fairly decent MS attack, leaving the right side of my body from my neck down without feeling or full movement. Scott, still trying to fully recover physically and emotionally from his own very serious and prolonged health problems, responded to the call to assist Matt in giving me a priesthood blessing. The faith and courage I recieved that day from a priesthood blessing were not necessarily the result of words said, but came from the example of the priesthood holder himself. Scott was a living example of courage to overcome trial and to press forward in faith. Even sweeter than the encouragement he offered me to heal physically was the boost he provided me emotionally. He recalled the faith he had had in me since I was a little girl to accomplish anything that I set my mind to, and told me that he knew I still had the capacity to accomplish great things no matter the circumstances. Scott is, and always has been, a builder of people, a gift of his that I will always be grateful for. Thanks Scott for always believing in me.

Blake: When you date a father’s only daughter, dreading the so-you’re-the-creep-that-wants-to-date-my-daughter meeting seemed inevitable. But that never came. Nor did I ever feel like a creep when visiting the Shirley household. Instead, I always felt welcome in your home. I don’t think it was the first time we met, but it was probably the first time of an extended one-on-one visit. I believe it was just before Christmas of ’92 when I showed up on your doorstep to deliver Jenna a Christmas present (a present that consisted of a Weekly World News tabloid, a Saved by the Bell poster of Zach and Slater, and a trophy – long story). Anyway, I was slightly disappointed/scared to see you open the door and learn that Jenna was not at home. In fact, you were the only one at home at the time, but instead of just letting me drop off the gift, you invited me in and insisted I go downstairs with you (that actually could sound creepy now that I’m writing this!) because you wanted to show me something you were putting together for Christmas, I think it was a weight set or something, and I think I you needed help with something because you were the only one there. Long story short, I don’t remember what we talked about, but I do remember that my fear of meeting you was quickly swept away and just felt accepted, and always have been. I appreciate that so much. I have awesome in-laws!

23 Kathy Bedke: Happy 60th Uncle Scott!!

You have always been an uncle that is easy to talk to and has always taken an interest in each of us and what we're doing, and I have always appreciated that.

I always loved it when you had your guitar out and would sing some of the funniest songs -- you always made the party more fun!

And your mustache -- I remember you always telling us that you kept crumbs in it for a snack later!! 24 Jason: When I was entering the fourth quarter of my mission, Dad sent me an email that give me the motivation to work hard until the end. I printed the email, highlighted my favorite parts, and still have it today. I actually still think about things written in that email that influence my life today, some very often even. These are a few of the highlights from that email: -"It is not a question of what you have done as much as a question of what you have become!" , "Now you have ahead of you your finest hour. This is the part where you hoe to the end of the row." , "Work smarter instead of harder" , "Remember you are a shepherd, not a sheep herder. A herder pushes and the sheep resent it and are scattered. The shepherd has a relationship with the sheep and they gladly follow." 25 Jason: When I was about 12, we went on a hike up cress creek. I was nearing the bridge over the creek when I heard dad yell "Jason FREEZE!" . I obeyed. I froze in place with my right leg still in the air. Below my foot was a baby rattlesnake (known to carry more venom than an adult). Within a second of the whole thing taking place, i felt two hands reach over both my should and my entire body was yanked away from the snake. This was probably one of the very few times in my life, I was actually saved by someone else. 26 Kyle Kinghorn: About 3 years ago, Uncle Scott stopped by my work to pay me a visit. I think he was going to have something painted for his elementary school. After some small talk about both our families, I asked him a few questions about his experience with martial arts. He taught me something very valuable. He indicated that he thoroughly enjoyed it, but that he enjoyed it so much that he was actually getting addicted to it. He was spending a lot of time at practice and tournaments at the expense of everything else. He taught me that there truly needs to be balance. If we ever get to the point with ANYTHING (running, bicycling, martial arts, etc.) that the “thing” takes precedence over what really matters, then we need to reevaluate what we’re doing. Once he realized that, he put the brakes on his participation in karate, and re-focused on what mattered more. It taught me a lot, and I’m grateful for that conversation. 27 Matt Kinghorn: Uncle Scott agreed to be my trainer of sorts when I was 19. I would drive to your place in Archer to meet him and then he would drive me to Idaho Falls for Karate class. I don't remember much about the class, but we had a lot of fun on the drives together. Scott was and is someone you could talk to very easily. He approached everything with an open mind and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. During those discussions on our commute, we figured a lot of things out ranging from politics to religion to girls and career choices. He never charged me a dime even though I was one of his students and he was having to drive me to class. I learned from him that being an individual and thinking independently matters. Tell him happy birthday for me and that I still owe him some gas money. 28 Janeen Caffrey: Since he was the principal, I pretty much thought that Uncle Scott owned the Sunnydale school (or was it Archer? Same thing, right...). One of my favorite memories of him was getting to go out to the school on New Year's Day. We did that as a family several years in a row (at least I remember it being that way) - we would set up the volleyball net in the gym and play a game and then play basketball or dodgeball in the gym and then Mom and Aunt Jan would have dinner ready and we would eat in the cafeteria - does it get any better!! He always had a funny joke to finish the night off with - best joke teller I know. Happy 60th Uncle Scott - I'm sure you are one of the youngest 60 year olds around! Have a good one! 29 Amber Tyrell: Almost all of my favorite memories of uncle Scott stem from Sunday night get togethers at Grandma Shirleys house, guitar playing, & squiggley salad. I loved listening to dad & Scott play guitars while Jenna and I danced around and sang along. Those were good times. And I don't think I will ever forget going for Christmas trees and discovering "A" tree right there in the woods! I think we still have some video footage somewhere of uncle scott reporting that news. 30 Stretch: Just off the top of my head, I can remember that Scott had a thing about eating. He would only put one food at a time on his plate. He said he didn't like his foods getting mixed up. I was always jealous of his musical abilities. It seemed he could pick up any instrument and play it better than I could even if I had been practicing for years. I admired his creativity also. One day we came home to find out that he had put thumb tacks in the hammers on the piano so it would sound like a harpsichord when he played it. I don't know how the folks felt about that but it did sound pretty cool. I seem to remember him sleepwalking a time or two. Some times Neal and I would be talking and he would sit up and look at us with a blank look on his face, so Nephi would say "you're dreaming............ go back to bed" so he would lay back down and go back to sleep and not remember it in the morning. 31 Chris Shirley: Uncle Scott has always been way too kind to me. When I was a kid, I was always greeted with the ‘double pat’. He would approach me from the side and slap me a couple of times on the chest and back at the same time. A couple of nice whacks as a hello. Once I decided to greet him in the same manner. Unbeknownst to me, he had recently suffered a rib injury (I believe from karate training). As I slapped him on the chest, he slightly winced, though he resisted doubling over in pain. It was later explained to me that he had been hurt, though he never said anything to me about it that I can remember. 32 Taylor Family: Before I go to bed, Matt got in late yesterday afternoon and then turned around and left for another meeting - with your dad actually coming to Home Teach in between - so I kind of failed to mention your email to him until bed time tonight. For that I apologize. As the kids were going to bed I asked if there was anything they would like to say as well as Matt. All agreed that music is the first thing that comes to mind when they think of "Mr. Shirley" - (the kids aren't quite sure what to call him since 5 days of the week he is Mr. Shirley, and the other days Brother Shirley or Scott) anyway Caleb thought that the day Mr. Shirley brought his band to the Middle School was pretty much the coolest thing that ever happened. Matt's memories include years of musical numbers with him on cello, Darla singing, and your dad on guitar. Since Darla doesn't really read sheet music it was always up to Scott to determine the key it would be played in and then him and Matt would make up their parts accordingly. Pretty Amazing. It was a real blow when the decision was made that guitars weren't to be played in the chapel. It was very enjoyable for the three of them to gather and create music together. Once Scott brought by his electric guitars and amps and let everybody mess around for a while which they loved. The guitar seems to be an extension of his arm, and it is hard to think of Scott Shirley without an instrument. The other thing that is a hallmark of your dad is his laugh. He is a very pleasant man and has a contagious laugh, throwing his head back and clapping his hands together. His company is always pleasant. 33 Addie:

34 Beckham:

35 Anna Shirley: After marrying Brandon, Scott affectionately called me his "favorite daughter in-law". For some reason, around the time when Brett got married he ceased calling me the favorite. Now, I'm not exactly sure why but I've decided it must be one of the following reasons: a) He didn't want to hurt my feelings after Tara quickly became the real favorite. b) He loves me so much, he actually thinks of me as his own and doesn't want to call me favorite daughter as to not offend Jenna. c) He disowned me after discovering that I voted for Barack Obama. d) He loves all his daughters-in-law and feels so lucky to have such blessed women married to his sons that he gets choked up and can't even speak a single word. I'll just go with d. You're still my favorite father-in-law! Love ya' pa!

Cathie: I have loved Scott from the time I first started dating Neal. He has always been so fun. I consider him the Jim Carrey of the family. (Stretch is the Clint Eastwood and Neal is probably the Willie Nelson. Haven’t decided about Janet yet.) Things would be pretty dull without Scott. He is the one who made me seriously ponder “my philosophy of life”! (He will know what that means!) So many good times! Hope there is lots more ahead. Welcome to the 60’s, Scott! You will never be old!

Love you, Scott!

-Cathie

Neal

The main thing that is predictable about my brother Scott is his unpredictability. Even when we were just kids, Scott was full of surprises. The day the insurance salesman knocked on our door and we kids didn’t answer (our folks weren’t home). When the old fellow quit knocking, Scott pursued him most of the way to his car, pretending to be waving an axe. The old boy never new Scott was right behind him, so Scott turned around and came back as his brothers watched in anxious disbelief.

Scott’s musical talents seem to be boundless. From our first rock and roll band in 1966 through our acoustic endeavors as a duet and with the Rocky Mountain Good old Boys and our present rock and roll band, I have thoroughly enjoyed performing with him. Even on stage, we never know what to expect from him. Spontaneity under fire might best describe his unabashed, outgoing showmanship. I don’t get nervous when we perform, cuz he always pulls a rabbit out of the hat.

May the force continue with you,

- Nephi

Sara Shirley: I remember this past summer Jason had given Beckham a blessing because he was sick, and in it there were some things that were a little unnerving for both of us. I practically spent the next 24 hours bawling and feeling so much anxiety. Jason was talking to Scott telling him about our experience and Scott said, "A blessing is meant to bring comfort and peace. If you feel anything but that you are either interpreting it wrong or it is Satan working on you." I just remember right after I heard that it felt like a huge weight was lifted off me and I felt such overwhelming peace that everything was going to be okay. I'm so grateful that he had the insight to know just what to say and truly be an instrument in the Lord's hands in my behalf. 39 Brett:

Father & Son outing…and Bill Lindsey

Dad has never been much of a camper. So, naturally, there were only a handful of times I went camping with him. He would always wake up in the morning and grumble about how he couldn’t get comfortable enough to get a good night’s sleep. Once we got the minivan, Dad’s camping problems were solved! This 150 horsepower, 2 man tent had seats that came out easily, and the mattress off the sofa/sleeper meant we could finally, and comfortably, spend a night in the out of doors. Not so much for the kids—we wanted the tent experience so that’s what we were given.

One of these camping trips was a father & son outing. This one in particular was a father & Dad’s friend & son outing. I was told that Bill Lindsey didn’t have any kids, so Dad thought this would be a rich experience for him. There was a lot of signals that sounded in my mind that made me think this would be tremendously awkward for him. He doesn’t know us. He doesn’t know the people in my ward. So, why would this be such a rich experience for him?

That is one of the only things I remember about that camping trip.

Now that I’m lightly seasoned with a little life experience and sautéed with a little maturity, I think the rich experience was really Dad’s. Deep down, I think Dad is really the old-school type that bends over backward to help people. The type that would pull up behind a car on the side of the road and see if there was anything he could do to help. That I know of, he never actually did anything like that, but I think it’s because of his family. We were his primary responsibility. He would rather capitalize his time with us, but I think it’s because of his responsibility to his family.

40 Brett:

Idaho Falls Karate School

Isn’t it always about time? Dad spent large chunks of my early childhood furthering his education. The way I understood it (because I was 6), he would spend the week at BYU playing Ping-Pong with the Polynesians and then come home for the weekends. I remember running out to meet him with the first tooth I lost between my fingers as he pulled into the driveway (the rest of my teeth were claimed by my orthodontist who only sometimes used Novocain).

This was my early childhood. Things changed when Jeff told Dad that he wanted to take Karate lessons. Jeff didn’t stick with it, but Brandon and I filled in where Jeff left off.

The fact I was willing to get up at 6:30 on a Saturday to take lessons has to say something about how I was raised. Once that school fizzed out, Dad carried on our excitement for martial arts by starting our own school in Idaho Falls. Sure, he may not have been licensed or insured for such a business, but it was the 90’s—the world was more relaxed about that stuff.

The point of all this is the time I was able to spend with Dad commuting in his mid-life crisis. Twice a week, I was able to spend an hour in the car talking with him. I see now, he was trying to pry into my life and make sure I was making good decisions. He tried to teach me about the future, the present, social issues, drugs, sex (though he was a little late on that. The kids on the back of the bus already clued me into all that business).

I didn’t take karate classes because I wanted to kick heinie. I didn’t take the karate classes because I wanted to please my Dad. I am glad I took them because of the time it allowed me to spend with him.

Eventually, our school went the way of our original instructor’s. I may have learned a bit of karate, but that was simply a side-effect of the relationship I was building with my Dad.

Brett:

42 Brett:

My First Moving Violation

For fun one day, Dad put me behind the wheel of the minivan and taught me how to drive a stick. Maybe I should be more specific.

For fun, one day when I was 12, Dad put me in the minivan and taught me how to drive a stick. I got pretty good at it, and it was pretty fun, so I kept looking for reasons to do it. With enough begging, eventually, I was able to drive myself around to collect fast offerings. But, I was always secretly hoping for the one day when I would be utilized like an ace in the hole, and I could drive the greatest significant distance—to town.

That never happened. I came close one time when Mom and Dad were in a pinch, but it didn’t quite work out.

Errands around the community, however, those were commonplace. It became my job to drive down to the dairy and get milk. And, if we needed something from Lloyds General Store, I was sometimes called on to make that quick trip, but I get the sense that Mom and Dad knew they were pushing it with that distance—even while being commanded to take the back roads.

Being a late bloomer, I was what Nephi would call “small in stature.” I was sent in the truck to Lloyds to get milk or eggs (one of my standard pick-ups from there). As I pulled in, I saw that they had already closed for the day, and that’s when I noticed Officer Skinner pull up beside me. (Officer Skinner was a large policeman that inconveniently lived in the neighborhood.) This is where I first learned that, if you show enough confidence, you can get away with a lot. So, I waived to him, turned around and headed back for home.

I’m sure he was thinking, “what is that 14 year old that looks like he’s 10 doing behind the wheel?” He pulled me over and gave me a ride home, and then gave Dad a ride back down to the store to pick up the truck.

As soon as Dad left with Officer Skinner, I started balling. I thought I was in so much trouble. But then, I realized I was being obedient. I was doing what Mom and Dad asked me to do. All of the guilt disappeared after that.

I haven’t yet found out what Dad and Officer Skinner talked about on the way to the truck, but I would like to know what was going on in Dad’s head on that trip.

Brett:

What will you be when you grow up?

All kids are frequently asked this question, but Dad is the only person that takes you to task on your answer. Sundays in sacrament meeting is where Dad introduced me to drawing, and I discovered it was something I’m pretty good at, and I also enjoyed. So, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I answered artist. It’s about this time Dad realized that he couldn’t offer me more than an introduction, so in the spirit of mentorship, he carted me over to Don Rick’s house.

Don Ricks was a still life painter in ailing health, when I met him in his studio. Dad set up an appointment to talk with him about what it was like being an artist to, I assume, let me feel out that occupation. For two and a half hours we looked flower arrangements he had painted, talked about what he likes about it—you know, the usual stuff that is as deep as a 15 year old wants to know. And, the majority of what I walked away with is how much fun it would be to have a hospital bed and if it really helped to have the oxygen tube up your nose.

In Dad’s mind, I’m sure I was supposed to take more away from that, but it was eating up my Saturday.

Now, if my young brain was able to understand income and responsibility, it would have been a much different conversation.

Brett:

Do Things For Yourself

In my early early days of karate, Dad asked Brandon and I if we wanted to fight in our first tournament. We agreed and I didn’t think much more of it until I walked in and saw the place. It was in a basement and it seemed to have an illegal dog-fighting air about it. That’s when I started to get a little nervous.

Yet, I found myself winning fight after fight, so I was getting comfortable with my circumstances. Until I found myself in at the top of the bracket with one fight to determine first and second place. It was in this fight that I found myself down a few points and this is when the stress hit me. I took one light kick to the groin that didn’t even really hurt, but I realized it gave me an outlet for all the pressure I was feeling. I started crying.

Dad came over to address my wounds as well as my mental state. I think he knew that my injury was more mental than physical and he told me that it didn’t matter if I won or lost, he just wanted to make sure I had fun—sort of the, everyone gets ice-cream approach.

I was able to pull myself together enough to finish the losing fight, but I learned something about Dad and where he put his pride. He was happy if we were happy.

P.S., when someone gets the wind knocked out of them, why does Dad think the best thing to do it lift the person’s hips off the ground by the belt? Where did that come from?

Brett:

Mister Father Dad was my fifth grade teacher—do you know how annoying this was? I constantly hear people say, “leave your work at work”, but in this case, it was the other way around and Dad couldn’t separate parent and teacher. It was almost like he felt he had to be harder on me in an effort to not show favoritism.

Annoying.

Brian Shirley: As Amber has mentioned, I have very fond memories of great music and great times at Grandma Shirley's house. I loved listening to dad and Uncle Scott play guitars on Sunday evenings. I also remember that Scott would consistently make it a point to talk with me one on one, to ask me about things I was doing or involved in or to discuss current events. It always made me feel like he really cared about me as an individual and I really appreciated that. I also remember some good physical games of basketball in the driveway at my house until Jeff and I got to good for dad and Scott to handle.

Jessica Curr: Uncle Scott is so positive and funny and he can make anyone laugh. One of my favorite memories was when we went to Las Vegas. I remember as we were sitting on the airplane, and the flight attendant was demonstrating all the emergency information, Uncle Scott was also demonstrating right along with her. And every time they showed the call button (and for the rest of the time), he would push the call light and it would chime. The attendant would come and cancel it, but pretty soon there would be another chime from Uncle Scott's seat! I think the whole plane was laughing. They would probably arrest him now days, but it was the most fun and entertaining flight I have ever been on!

Jenna: Dad was always a good gauge in determining if I had a good boyfriend or not. He never liked Marcus, my first post-16-dating boyfriend. Especially after he got his ear pierced. "Anyone who chooses an earring over the priesthood is not worth dating." He was spot on when he first met Blake. The first thing he said to me after Blake dropped me off after a dance was, "That's the kind of guy I hope you will marry." After Blake and I broke up for a brief time, he had talks with Blake's dad about how they could get the two of us back together. I am starting to think my marriage was arranged. 49 Brandon: I loved watching lightning storms as a child, but only when observed indoors. I had that sense of invincibility one feels when looking at a Hobo Spider in a glass jar. On those occasions when lightning storms frequented our house at late hours of the night, I would take refuge in my parent's bedroom. Rather than sending me back to bed on my own (which Dad could have done given his insane work schedule), Dad took me into the living room and together, stripped of any distractions, we watched the impressive lightning display outside. We talked about all kinds of things like outer space, God, and religion until the lightning and thunder abated.

50 Anna Shirley: Quoted from my journal on January 2, 2007, "Thanksgiving in Idaho was fun. Jan and Scott had a good time with Grant. We brought Grant in to see Scott at school and he carried him around showing him off." Grant loves his Grandpa Shirley. And clearly, Grandpa Shirley loves his Grant. I remember when you took him all around the school introducing this little 18 month old Grant to all your co-workers and students. You were so proud of Grant, you were beaming. You are always so proud of your grandchildren. It's obvious in your countenance.

51 Anna Shirley: Scott always makes breakfast when we're in Idaho at least once. The griddle comes out, the bacon sizzles and the eggs (we'll just go ahead and forget that "Windex" batch) get piled high. It's an act of love, I think.

Three generations making breakfast (January 3, 2009)

52 Anna Shirley: In my eyes, Scott has been a devoted son. He is always there for his parents without even a hint of frustration or feeling of inconvenience. He was so good to Grandpa Shirley and continues to be there for Grandma Shirley. I know how much he loves his parents. He respects and loves them fiercely and unconditionally. It is an inspiring relationship to observe.

53 Brandon: I could always count on Dad to say or do whatever was necessary for a given situation, but his ability to do so was occasionally limited by the available resources. When I was 13 years old, Bruce Weeks and I located and decided to renovate an old tree house near the Snake River. Not long after, I fell out of the tree house backward and landed on a barbed wire fence. It was clear that I hat cut my leg quite badly. I limped my way back to the Child's house and had them call my parents. A few minutes later, I noticed Dad riding a bicycle in my direction. Apparently, all the vehicles at our house were otherwise occupied. The Child's graciously offered to drive us to the hospital. I am sure, however, that Dad would not have hesitated to pump me all 15 miles into town if called upon.

54 Brandon In Idaho, when the wet season would end (which is usually mid-March), we got the opportunity to irrigate our pasture. To divert the water down the several ditches, someone placed large planks into slots at a cement check. Pursuant to some unspoken agreement, the Child's took the water first, then the Kirbys, and finally the Shirleys. It was incumbent upon the person last receiving the water to pull the heavy wood planks, which usually occurred before the break of dawn (4 a.m.ish). Dad never complained about this undertaking - in fact, I believe that he volunteered I never missed an opportunity to wake up early and walk down the rutted, dirt road with Dad to pull the planks.

55 Jeff

The year was 1988, I was 12, searching for popularity and an identity. I had just started my 6^th grade year, and was looking to fit in with new ‘city’ friends, since it was my first year going to school in Rexburg at Washington School. Instead of having to drive a half hour to go to Broulims' and The Big Apple arcade, I could simply walk across the street! It was all too tantalizing, as was the chance to skip another boring lecture by the crazy, old codger Mr. Dearing, who spoke in such a monotonous tone, he could have put Richard Simmons to sleep. So there I was, standing in the hallway, with my ‘new’ friends Jon and Derek, and one of them said, “Let’s sluff and go to the arcade.” Before I knew it, we were walking out the door, leaving science class and common sense behind. The arcades were as fun as they’ve ever been. I was dominating Donkey Kong, decimating opponents in Street Fighter, and controlling the galaxy in Asteroid. Little did I know, back at the school, the teachers had what was called an attendance roll, and they were on to our little escapade. We hurried back to the school just in time for science to end, and just in time to hear our names called over the intercom to come to the office. The blood instantly ran to my face as I realized we had been caught. I only wondered what would happen when I got home.

As I expected, my Mom was waiting, stark raving mad and ready to pounce. The words still echo through my mind, “You just wait until your Dad gets home. He’s not happy!” I panicked. What was I to do? Wait around to get a boot in my rear? Of course I took off down to my secluded spot near the river by my house. I felt safe there, just skipping rocks and listening to the water cascade beneath me. I figured I could stay there forever, build a shelter, live off grubs and worms and eventually find some forest cave woman who’d take care of me. The hours went by slowly, as I sat there contemplating my mistake. What was I thinking? kept echoing through my mind as I sat there trying to throw rocks as hard as I could across the river. It was near dusk, when I heard rocks colliding together behind me, and as I turned, I saw Dad. I didn’t know what to do. Should I run? Should I freeze and hope he doesn’t see me? Or should I take my punishment like a man and bend over so he could get out his belt? I could tell he thought I was going to run, as he calmly said, “Don’t run, because I’ll catch you, so sit down and let’s have a talk.” A talk? I thought. What’s there to talk about? I figured he was just tricking me into staying so he could shellac me while I wasn’t looking. But he didn’t. The fact was, he never raised his voice. He didn’t even mention anything about what I had done. We talked about life, sports, weather, and about everything but my egregious mistake. Dad didn’t give me any consequences, because he sensed that I had learned my lesson alone. I learned then, and there, that I needed to make better decisions because there were consequences based on my actions. As the sun went down and the mosquitoes began to feast on our flesh, he leaned over, looked me in the eye, and said, “Oh by the way, don’t ever cut school again.” That was the only time he mentioned anything about it, and we walked home together, without a hint of anger and aggression. This experience taught me a lot about Dad as a person, and a role model. I strived, from that point, to not let him down, and to be more like him. This conversation is one that I’ll always remember because he taught me a lot about forgiveness, patience, learning from my mistakes, and he didn’t even have to mention much anything about what I had done. Thank you, Dad, for teaching me these valuable life lessons. Happy 60^th old codger!

Ashleigh:

Hi Scott,

Though I have not been in the family for very long, I have many fond memories of you. My favorite memory involves all the times we have gone on walks with Jeff at Cress Creek near your house. I remember the walks together and the opportunities we had to watch as Cash or Annie run through the weeds around the trail as they acted like they were protecting us from something. These are great memories, and I’ll always cherish the moments and discussions we had together at this wonderful place. Thank you for taking me there and for everything you do for us.

Happy Birthday!

from Ashleigh and Maelynn

Jeff:

Dad was never a fan of camping, but when duty called, he reluctantly answered. One particular campout I remember fondly is when Dad met our Cub Scout troop at Krupp Scout Hollow one summer evening. He had just gotten off a long shift at Broulims’, and I should have known that sleeping in a tent was just what he wanted to do that night. He arrived just in time for dinner, hoping for some Dutch oven chicken, corn on the cob, or maybe some homemade peach cobbler. Instead, it turned out to be one of May Cheney’s classic experimentation dinners using NO cooking equipment, such as Dutch ovens, spatulas, frying pans, or anything most sane people would use to cook a meal over a fire. Dad showed up in time to see us cooking a meat patty on a rock next to the gleaming coals. It looked like it had lots of seasoning and flavor in it as it sizzled by the fire, however, this was the ash and dirt that came from resting on a filthy rock. After the hamburger fell into the fire a few times, I scooped it onto my reluctant father’s plate. He looked at me as if to say, “Are you insane?” I saw him tenderly pick off a piece of something that resembled meat, gnaw at it for a few minutes, and stop to periodically pick out what was, most likely, a few contaminants. A bowl of soup cooking in a hollowed out rock looked tantalizing, however, it was May’s special ‘Plant soup’ consisting of a concoction of dandelion leaves and thistle stems, and some other weeds she found by the campsite. It seemed healthy enough, but the taste definitely left something to be desired and did not appease Dad’s appetite. A side dish of rolls was next, which were cooked on a stick hung precariously over large flames. The outside of the roll turned as dark as the looming thunder clouds that began to roll in, and out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw Dad throw something over his shoulder into the weeds. As if it could get any worse for him, rain started to fall as we were cooking dessert. Oh by the way, dessert consisted of a banana peel resting gently on hot coals which scorched the meat of the helpless banana on the inside. Mae forgot to tell us that we shouldn’t have left the banana in there for more than about 30 seconds, because it too, ended up a dark slimy mess. She covered it with some whipped cream, which was a good gesture, but it didn’t help the taste. This time Dad got up, walked away from the fire, and chucked the banana as hard as he could into the trees. We hurriedly set up the tent and the rain began to violently pour, which put out the fire and we sought shelter, or what we thought was shelter, inside our small two man tent. Much to our dismay, we learned quickly that our tent happened to rest right in the middle of a gully, which seemed gather all the water from the entire Snake River Valley right beneath us. That night, I just kept saying, “I’m sorry Dad,” as we huddled close to each other to try to keep warm. He never complained though, at least out loud, even though I knew there were a million other things he’d rather be doing that freezing in that tent, without having a decent meal. I don’t remember sleeping much at all that night, but it was a great experience to have spent with Dad. We have had a few conversations about that evening, and it always brings a large smile to our faces as we reminisce how horrible that night ended up being. And by the way, if you’re planning on inviting May over to cook your 60^th birthday party, you may want to rethink your dinner plans.

Jeff:Other memories I’d like to share are really a combination of a lot of experiences Dad and I have had the last two years as we’ve worked together gathering fireworks in the God-forbidden landscape of New Mexico. We’ve had many great conversations as we’ve spent countless hours on the road between towns throughout this vast, desert landscape. I’ve learned a lot about Dad during these past two summers. He’s always willing to do whatever is asked of him, and never complains or bemoans his responsibilities. He’s imparted a lot of wisdom to me about things he’s learned in life and experiences he’s had. Each trip we took, or dinner we ate, I learned something new about him. These trips also allowed me great opportunities to see how easily Dad can talk to people. While I would walk right by someone, he’d stop and ask them how they were doing, things about their family, or things about New Mexico. I noticed how the peoples’ faces always seemed to light up when they find out that someone is actually curious to know things about them. These trips will be experiences that I’ll always remember, even though I wish they had taken place on a lush, green island instead of a burning ring of fire that is New Mexico.

One last memory is when I worked as a statistician with the high school basketball team at Madison. On occasion, I was also in charge of filming the games for the coaches from the press booth. Mom and Dad would come to the games periodically, and it was fun to be able to spend time with them. During one game at Bonneville, there was an unruly, overweight radio personality/bully up in the booth that was being extremely difficult and was not allowing us to set up our camera, even though there was plenty of room for all of us. This monster of a man ended up kicking us out of the booth, telling us to get our equipment out of his way and to quit bothering him. I went down and told Dad what had happened, and as I told him what had transpired, I could see the blood boiling in his eyes. He said, “Come with me.” I followed him up to the booth, unsure of what I was about to witness. He walked right up the guy, got in his face, and asked, “My son tells me you won’t let him set up his camera up here to film the game. Is that correct?” The guy cowered in his chair, stammered over his speech and said, “Well, uh, …I wasn’t sure what they were doing…” Dad interrupted him saying, “You knew exactly what they were doing. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give them all the space they need, you’re going to let them film, and you’re not going to bother them at all. Is that understood!??” By this time, the guy is practically messing his pants as he sat there trembling in fear. Although Dad was half his size, he got his point across loud and clear. As Dad turned to leave, he said, “You won’t be having any more problems here, but let me know if you do.” Dad walked out of the booth, and the guy came over and ended up helping us get our camera, tripod, and electrical equipment set up for the game. Dad taught me a lot that night about how to deal with difficult people. I was glad he was there and I still wonder if that behemoth has nightmares about that night when a mustached, brown haired, skinny guy with glasses made him soil his jeans while he scared the living daylight out of him. Thanks Dad!

Mom:

Wow I don’t know how to go about this. How does one describe ½ of a life of a couple? It’s hard to do as the years have somehow come and gone and here we are still together. Thanks to the Lord. We have somehow melted together over 37 years and I sometimes don’t know where I end and you begin.

I know we haven’t had the kind of marriage where we are adoring and kind at all times. I haven’t been the kind of wife I should have been to you and I sometimes think you would have been much better off if you had married Debbie Bean with whom you were madly infatuated with in high school. I know I have been selfish and haven’t supported you the way that I should have yet you seem to constantly forgive me my shortcomings.

You are my rock, Scottie, the one that I continuously pound against with tempestuous waves and wind. There have been times when the sun has shone through though the clouds and others when the storm is extremely punishing. You have somehow been able to stand strong and constant in my life. You have taught me loyalty and love when the easiest thing would have been for you to cut and run.

60 Mom: I haven’t been the best wife, although we have had some exciting times! There aren’t many in our ward that have a wife with my background! It makes for quite an exciting story! Of course, I’ll not bore you with the sordid details which you know very well, but finally the sun has come out for me and it has had everything to do with you. Your strict righteousness, loyalty and just the strength of your love has been the lifeline for me. Hopefully I don’t beat against your rock so much anymore, I want you to feel that sunshine. I want to again be the kind of woman you felt like when we were married.

I think with your great examples to me of strength, humility and loyalty to the end have finally gotten through to me. You have honored our temple covenants with no thought of breaking them, which I thought sometimes might have been the best thing. I thought many times that instead of happily rolling along through the years, like so many of your contemporaries, we hit huge snags. The driftwood again was there to crash against your rock and still you stood tall and strong. How I love you for that! For your sense of humor, for your loyalty, for the sake of our wonderful family, we were able to keep it together. Unbelievable at times I’m sure you thought but here we are. Married 37 years, with five of the most wonderful kids anyone could ask for, each of them married in the temple with such beautiful children of their own. I am so lucky!

Thank you, thank you for always being there for me! For being there for me now when the tides have finally quieted. I hope that your 60 years have been filled with more happy memories than not. I’m so glad I married into your great family for they saved me. How I love my in-laws! How I love you!

Happy Birthday my sweetheart!!

Love,

Your Jannie