Phil R.

Robert Philip Enoch Church. My father. Known far and wide (at least in Canyon County, Idaho) as Phil R.

Dad was a farmer. Period. Every waking hour was devoted to his farm. Oh, he did do other things, but usually it involved farming in some way or another. He went to bed early every night, up early every morning. It wasn't like he had to make himself do so, it was his life. And he excelled at it. He truly was a "farmers farmer". Sundays, birthdays, holidays; ask him about them and they were "just another day".

My two older brothers and I grew up on Dad's farm. He was our step-dad but the only dad we ever knew. Dad was from Old Missouri blood; that meant he was most definitely the boss and kind words were not part of the picture. He expected the best from us and when we gave that nothing needed saying. If we fell short he would let you know and how to correct it, sometimes harshly but once said that was enough! His way of teaching made you want to do your best, not just for him but also for your own pride.

So Rick, Scott and I were among the best. I say this with some pride but not to puff myself up but to honor my Father and his ways. It was common to hear people say if you wanted to know how to do it right, ask Phil R. He simply was that good, but usually if anyone devotes the time and effort he did, they would be, too.

Dad was very helpful to others, but wasn't very good at taking praise. One of our favorite stories; a new Simplot Soilbuilders field agent moved in next to one of Dad's places, and had a small pasture on his place which was overgrown. Dad was going by with a rotary mower on one of his tractors, pulled in and mowed that pasture down. The agents wife came out, knew who Dad was, and stopped him to thank him. Dad looked back at the pasture and said, "Well, now it looks like someone lives here!" and without another word went down the road!

In truth Dad was an institution in Wilder, Idaho. It was unthinkable that he would ever be gone. But, all things come to an end. Dad came up with pancreatic cancer in early 1995; He never would admit he was terminal and I think he was surprised at the end. But a few months later my Father was gone. At the time my family and I were living in Juneau Alaska and I hadn't been quite updated on just how serious it was. So I never got to see my Dad before he died. But I did do something during his illness I, nor any of us, had ever done before. I wrote a letter to him telling him how much I appreciated all the years we had together and all he had taught me. The thing I did different; I told my Dad how much I loved him. Dad had grown up taught that to praise someone or say I love you was a weakness. So affection was not part of our lives growing up with Dad. Looking back I can truthfully say I have no regrets on this issue; I know that my Father loved us so very much and am so grateful I was able to let him know it was returned before he left. I miss him so very much....