He lived a simple life. While he always wanted to provide more for his family, he was satisfied with just the basic necessities for himself. Fancy clothes, food, entertainment were not his style.
He loved reading scriptures. My strongest memory is of him sitting by his 40 watt bulbed lamp in the living room reading the Book of Mormon.
Even though his hearing failed him in his later years, his clear tenor voice was always on pitch. I loved sitting near him in church to harmonize with him.
His hands were strong and calloused.
He loved water. While walking to the Arizona Temple he would pause long enough to splash with his foot if there was water in the gutter he was crossing.
His smile lit up his whole face. It almost seemed like it would crack because his face was so weather-beaten.
He bought a Studebaker car at the end of World War II, but struggled to drive it. One day he was approaching his house in Snowflake and ran into the fence at the front, all the while pulling back on the steering wheel and shouting "Whoa".
He would never cook at home, but could create a wonderful Dutch Oven meal under a small fire.
From his grandson David Decker:
Grandpa loved to work-- work was the passion of his life as I saw it. He love to sing and I thought he had a beautiful voice.
Being the youngest in my family at the time, I was often sent to ride at the ranch with Grandpa. We would ride mostly on the Day Wash allotment where Grandpa still had some cows. He would tell stories as we rode along, many of them about his favorite horses, "Legs" and "Squirrel". From the stories he told me, these horses became legendary in my young mind. Legs could travel across the range faster and smoother than any horse and Squirrel was without doubt the greatest cutting horse even known to man. When it came time to cut out an ornery critter, Squirrel was the horse for the job.
He also told me about his wrestling matches -- mostly about how his brother Nathaniel could throw any man in the area except one-- yep, Grandpa, being much smaller and of a lighter build than his brother could always throw Uncle "Than" (as he called him).
I also listened to countless hours of sermons that some day he hoped to give when called upon.
On his mission to California he and other elders played baseball in Candlestick Park with a local team. Grandpa said he hit a ball over the head of the fielders and it rolled and rolled, so he ran around the bases. Halfway between 3rd base and home plate his legs gave out and he tumbled to the ground. He struggled to get up and run, but his legs would not cooperate and so he crawled to home base, only to be tagged out, just shy of a home run.
He told me many, many stories, but I am an old grandpa myself, so my memory is fading and my mind is weak.
When I was 12 or 13 years old, Grandpa purchased a car. It was a green Studebaker. The first time he drove it to church, my Dad sent me to ride with him. As he turned to park and as we approached the sidewalk, Grandpa began to say "Whoa" to the car. It did not whoa and we went over the sidewalk and bumped into the church fence, knocking it down for about 100 ft on either side of us. Grandpa backed up off the sidewalk and when we got out he simply said, "That car won't whoa". He knocked that fence down so many times tht the Bishop finally organized a work project and removed the fence.
A highlight of my early high school days was stopping by Grandpa and Grandma's house on my way home from school. I often got a cookie or a glass of milk and piece of bread. But my favorite thing was to sit where I could see both of them in their chairs on either side of their oil stove in the living room -- Grandpa reading and Grandma either reading or crocheting or knitting.
They were Grandpa and Grandma, but it was some time after they were gone before I realized they were more than that-- they were faithful, strong pioneers who had actually lived the pioneer experience and were living examples of the greatness of those who gave so much for their faith.
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