A Memory Of My Dad

Almost end of day and I had meant to post a memory of my dad, Chuck Viebrock, who would have been 107 years old today.

In October, 2005, a few months before he died, I asked him if he’d like to drive down to the creek, where I’d fished with him so many times in my youth. About five miles from the home place, the gravel road heads down a narrow gully and into the deeper canyon. We took my Subaru, just the two of us. He was nearly 95 by then and had been getting around with a walker for years.

The road down in Douglas Creek Canyon is primitive, and has a few water crossings. At that time of year it’s usually pretty shallow, but for some reason it was a bit higher than normal. The first crossing was mild, but the second looked a bit dicy, so I stopped the car, got out to check the depth.

After a bit of guessing, I decided it was deeper than I was comfortable with for the car. Dad hadn’t given any fatherly advice, and didn’t after I got back in the car. I started to back up to turn around and casually said, “That looked a little too deep.”

In his dry way my Father said, “Long way with a walker.” He didn’t waste words.

And I still miss him.

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Clint Viebrock

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