Reeves Andrew Brady

Reeves Andrew Brady was born August 16, 1918, to Columbus Franklin and Sarah Delila Brady, in Manassa, Colorado, and passed away on October 16, 2011, in Provo, Utah.  Manassa is a small farming community in the southern part of the state, east of Romeo and south of Sanford (hope that helps). Manassa was his favorite place to be, especially during July Pioneer Days.  He would zip into his one-piece coveralls and film rodeo after rodeo.  Occasionally, he would take some pictures of some of his kids.  Our house was filled with boxes of 35mm reels of twisting bulls and barrel racing horses.  He also loved being around his siblings and having his sisters spoil him. His nickname, Chuck, was given to him by his brothers, supposedly because he reminded them of a woodchuck.  Granted, that’s not the nicest reason for a nickname, but I think Chuck is a far better name than Reeves, despite the reason.

 

I blame this country upbringing, or maybe just his generation, for his odd eating habits. I remember him sitting in his chair with a turnip in one hand and a knife in the other, slicing off chunks and crunching his heart out while watching Star Trek. Some of his other favorite snacks were: a glass of milk filled with bread, or fried chicken hearts and gizzards.

 

My brother Ron told me a story about he and my sister Nancy riding to the butchers shop with my dad to buy some fresh chicken parts.  As a special treat, they were each rewarded with their own chicken foot.  Unfortunately, they were eventually caught pulling on the tendons to wave to the other cars with their feet, so that ended their butcher runs. 

 

My father served a mission in the Southern States from 1937 to 1939.  He would talk about how much he loved the green pastures of Kentucky horse farms, probably because this was so different than what he’d ever seen after leaving the high, dry mountains of southern Colorado. He was always sad that he never went back to visit.

 

He received a degree in accounting at BYU, and later served as a U.S. Naval Medical Corpsman in San Diego during WWII.  Although he wasn’t stationed overseas, he served those who were injured both mentally and physically during the war.  The compassion he learned there helped him throughout his life, especially later when he served as bishop of the Van Nuys California 3^rd Ward.

 

He took his responsibility as “father” of the ward seriously, and was often gone helping the widows of the ward.  He served as bishop before I was born, but later, I remember our ward inviting his former bishopric to perform at a ward party.  He and his counselors lip-synced and danced.  I don’t remember the song, but I do remember him wagging his finger and trying to remember the words.  I do remember being almost traumatized by the fact that he could not wag his finger and pretend to sing at the same time.

 

My father had trouble being on time for anything, especially church. I remember running late and sitting at a red light when we needed to turn left.  He would look at the gas station on the left and saying, “Oh! We need gas in the car!”, and turn into the station.  The he'd say, “Oh! I can’t get gasoline on a Sunday!” and bypass the signal.  He did that almost time since we were late almost every Sunday. Later, when we would invite him to a picnic or something, we would tell him it was an hour earlier so he would be on time.  Come to think of it, he would have loved that we changed his funeral to the afternoon… He always thought that morning came too early.

 

Originally, he partnered with his brother-in-law, Art Matheron, as an accountant.  After a few years, they split the business, with my father focusing more on small businesses and personal taxes.  Tax time was always stressful, and it’s what his schedule revolved around.  In fact, he remembered that my birthday was around Tax Day.  Unfortunately, he was thinking of the original tax day, March 15, which was changed in 1955, almost 10 years before I was born. So I got used to receiving a birthday call from him a month late, and having the same conversation about how tax time always reminded him of my birthday. After he married Joan, I always knew when she was helping because my calls finally arrived on time! 

 

His fuzzy memory wasn’t confined to dates, however.  My sister convinced him that I liked chocolate covered cherries, and she loved Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.  I hate chocolate covered cherries, but as a special surprise would get a big wrapped box of them every Christmas.  I would give them to my sister, who would then get to eat chocolate covered cherries PLUS the big box of Reeses that she always received as a present.  It took years for him to remember that it was a trick.

 

He never liked being the bad guy.  His main form of discipline was saying, “Okay, only ONE scoop of ice cream tonight!”  And he was also a very patient person.  I remember him teaching me how to drive.  The poor man spent hours strapped in the car with me, since my sister and brother-in-law didn’t want to do it.  One time, we were driving on a narrow street, cars parked on both sides.  I still tried to stay on the right side of the road, even though a single car could barely make it through.  He calmly said, “You might want to drive a little closer to the middle.  You are getting really close to the rear view mirrors.”  In other words, I was about to take out the whole side of the car.  I look back now & marvel at his composure.

 

He and Joan just celebrated 22 years together.  A few years ago, they were also able to serve a Family History Mission in Los Angeles, which they both loved.  They were able to live right by the Los Angeles temple, and I know they were grateful for the opportunity to serve.  I can imagine him sitting in his recliner, visiting with all the people that he and Joan helped or helped find on their mission.

 

I’d like to end by reading lyrics from a song that we sang every year during Pioneer Day Weekend.  My aunt Ouida Brady wrote the music, and her friend Grace Nelson wrote the lyrics:

 

San Luis Valley

1^st Verse:

I’m lonely tonight, thoughts far away

Old memories make me yearn

For folks that I love far, far away

Oh how I long to return.

2^nd Verse

The world was so big, life was so bright

Fate beckoned me with a smile

But now it’s too late, I can never go back

Back to my life as a child

Chorus:

I dream of blue shadows in the San Luis Valley

Rose tinted clouds in the west

It seems to me it’s evening time, I can hear a church bell chime

And in that dear home of mine, the loved ones rest.

I dream while blue shadows in the San Luis Valley

Deepen and turn into night

I pray that God will bless and keep

All those dear ones while they sleep

In that San Luis Valley home of mine.