my Dad died of liver cancer 25 years ago, but it is amazing how much I think about him all through the course of every day. I am always remembering conversations, and statements, and even lectures and scoldings.  It doesn’t seem like 25 years ago that we were putting in hay and plowing and milking cows. My fondest memories of my Dad was after I had left the farm and started pastoring. He would stop and pick me up and we would drive down to Myrtle Creek, Oregon and drive out of town about 15 miles to a gold claim that he had. For about 5 days between Sunday’s when I had to be back to preach we would camp and run a gasoline dredge all day sucking up gravel and sand off the bottom of the little creek our claim was on. After several hours of that back breaking work we would empty the material in the riffles of the sleuth box  into a five gallon bucket. When the bucket was full we would pan the contents of the bucket for hours usually filling up,a small pill bottle with gold dust.  For that five day  period it was just Dad and I camping, eating, and mining and talking. I hope that I have had a lot of positive influence in the lives of our 8 kids.