Thursday, April 23, 2015
During the late '70s and early '80s, our Bazil, or "B.O.," as even sometimes his daughters referred to him, was a dapper gentleman, wearing a Burt Reynolds mustache and driving stylish foreign sports cars (BMW, Lancia, Porsche, Alfa Romeo, ...). He would later seriously research building a kit car.
He listened to Barry Manilow and Chris Ledoux on long play vinyl records and read books of Louis L'amour and issues of "Field and Stream." He travelled frequently out-of-state for work and once brought home Alaska Native artwork with which he decorated his apartment (and a toy gift for me--other gifts included freshly made jerky and fruit leather).
Our Bazil performed hard labor for livestock husbandry with his brother, Lott, during return visits to Lott's Cleveland, Utah, farm. He used a tree stand to hunt, teaching me how to climb, foot-by-foot up the trunk. He could manipulate a lasso and expertly maneuver his horse in reverse, steadily, almost gutturally commanding, "Back, Back...!"
Bazil visited Orace's stables in Midvale, Utah, as often as he could, which was never frequently enough for him. He would carve out dirt, manure, and debris from the hooves of his horses, ensure their tails were meticulously French-braided, and routinely brush them after a period of cooling down.
He so easily met the needs of those for whom he cared. Yet, for himself, he kept in his cupboards merely two boxes--breakfast cereal and instant noodles--items in his fridge were equally sparse.
He taught Camille, Michelle, Debbie, and Mequette, four of his daughters, how to alpine ski, mastering moguls, and to water ski, with the finesse of a racecar driver. Later, he would later also teach my childhood friend, Raquel, and me.
Bazil took me swimming, to park city for ice cream, and horseback-riding in the hills below Butterfield Canyon.
He marveled the at exquisite beauty of a well-toned human physique and he voraciously taught himself the disciplined and rigorous training routines of champions like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Corinna Everson, and Rachel McLish. He taught me techniques, using weight machines to tone, and free-weights to built muscle, which fundamentally relied on a smart and careful diet.
Bazil taught me specifically to use sufficient weight to tire after 15 repetitions, and after 3 sets, to continue with "negative" strokes until muscle exhaustion. His grandson, CJ, would follow in his footsteps, competing and placing in NPC Utah Pro Core in the year 2014.
His beloved wife, Sherry, cared endlessly for him. She would empty the contents of 5-pound bags of Red Delicious and Granny Smith apples, and oranges, filling like almost like trough for our rugged countryman the bins of their refrigerator. She'd welcome him home from workweeks, spent out of town, with the best-ever freshly homemade cheesecake.
Bazil delighted us by reciting poems such as Gunga Din and The Raven, and speaking words of wisdom:
"Laugh and the world laughs with you; cry, and you cry alone," and "Accountants don't get old, they just lose their balance," are among favorites.
In my earliest memories of Basil, the table is crowded and we're enjoying his homemade-waffles with butter and syrup, he admonishing my grandma for cutting up my entire waffle; instead of cutting one bite-at-a-time. He would act goofy, dancing around, playing a joker, and speaking in a silly voice to lighten the mood.
My parents say that when I was a pre-schooer, he dressed me in a cowboy hat, leather vest, and boots, and situated me next to a saddle with a stick and a knife, positioned as if I were whittling.
Dennis, a former son-in-law, said he was intimidated upon first meeting Bazil, but that they always got along probably because they were from the same place and knew or knew of many of the same people--both from Helper & Lawrence, both hillbillies.
Marcia said he is riding his horse as fast as he can. Bazil was a champion. At the finish line of his most triumphant run, I am sad only for myself; for him I am celebrating, in awe of his remarkable example.
