My Personal Reflections
on the Life of Grandfather David Ririe
By David Ririe
It was not my privilege to know
Grandpa Ririe, but since I was named for him, Grandmother and my
parents often talked to me about him and he was a hero to me. Following
are some of the things that were related to me.
Mother had high regard for Grandpa
Ririe. She stressed his hospitality and friendly nature saying that
any knock on his door was followed by a hearty invitation, “Come
Dad told me of his love of the
outdoors, of fishing, camping, and farming. On one occasion the ward
went on an outing on the Snake River across from Black’s Canyon.
The men scattered to try their luck as anglers. Grandpa Ririe was
more successful than anyone else and, in fact, caught fish in sufficient
quantity to feed the whole group.
Dad told of sluffing off on his
chores and failing to milk the cows. Uncle Joseph and Grandpa milked
them when they found that the work had not been done. Dad decided
that he would try the same stunt a second evening. At about eleven
o'clock that night Grandpa awakened Dad and told him he had failed
to milk his cows. Dad said he knew better than to sluff off on that
Dad often quoted Uncle Joseph who
said, "Father never made a dime from milking cows, but he sure
taught us to work."
When Max and I started high school
Dad followed Grandpa Ririe's example by buying a herd of dairy cows
for us to milk during our high school days.
Grandpa was very progressive. His
orchard was the largest in the area. Long after his death we enjoyed
the fruit of his labors. In the grove there were plums, cherries,
pears, and many varieties of apples. In fact there were apple varieties
that I have seldom seen since, such as Yellow Transparent, Whitney
Crab, Gano, Ben Davis, and Wolf River. The best variety was the McIntosh,
an excellent storage apple, which we had in abundance every winter.
He also had a cider mill which we utilized to make apple juice each
harvest season. Grandma Ririe preserved the Whitney crab apples whole
in a spicy juice. We ate them by holding the stem and sucking or
biting the flesh of the apple from the core. They were delicious.
The very large Wolf Rivers were cut in half, cored, and sprinkled
over with sugar and cinnamon. Covered with cream the baked apples
were relished by all of us.
Grandmother Ririe often told us
about the time Dad overheard Grandpa saying he needed to grease his
buggy. The 1ittle boy covered the vehicle from tongue to the top
of the seats with axle grease.
Mother said she never heard of
anyone that didn’t like Grandpa Ririe. Uncle Bert in his book, "They
Come,” praised Grandpa Ririe for his leadership and energy
in constructing the canal system for the irrigation needs of the
George Summers who interviewed
me before my ordination to the Melchizedek Priesthood said no one
had better grandfathers than I did Even though Grandpa didn't live
to see any of his grandchildren, his life was an inspiration to us.
I don't believe I ever entered Grandmother's house but what I looked
with admiration and reverence at the picture of Grandfather David
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