Under His Wing

Under His Wing

“The most important of the Lord’s work that you will ever do will be the work you do within the walls of your own home.”

Harold B. Lee

This photo was taken in the summer of 1961 at Incline Lake, seven miles above Lake Tahoe and my favorite place on earth. My grandfather, Rulon Clarke McMurrin, known to me forever as “Granddaddy,” was teaching me and other assorted grandchildren how to fish. I remember this moment well, as the fish were swarming in the shallows just off the shore from the boat house.

My grandfather was one of my favorite people ever. I just adored him. That’s five-year-old me, just under his arm on the left. My cousin, Mary Catherine, is next to me, and to the right, standing on the bench, is my cousin Rory, and my sister, Mary Ellen.

Granddaddy lived with GraMa here in Los Angeles, and he had a workshop in the basement where he spent time fixing things while his grandchildren caught daddy longlegs. He seemed to have a lot of ball-peen hammers, which were passed down to me. He sat on a multicolored stool that, with a touch, could become a step ladder. It’s in my garage, and I can’t walk past it without feeling his presence.

He drove a late fifties Thunderbird, which seemed huge to me at the time, and he’d often pick me up to go visit family friends on a Saturday. I remember what a big boy I felt like, riding in the car with my grandfather. I felt safe and loved whenever I was with him. I still have a floor mat from that T-Bird. I also have his catcher’s mitt from when he played semi-pro baseball, and a photo of him and his team, with my grandmother’s handwriting on the back, “Rulon, he’s the handsome one in the middle.” In our home, I have a portrait-sized pencil drawing she sketched of him that I frequently see. When I look into his eyes, I feel calm and centered. I know what the right thing to do is.

On Christmas morning, we would open presents at our house, and then go to my grandparents’ for the rest of the day and evening. I still have the well-worn toy trumpet I got from Granddaddy one Christmas, and a photo him teaching me how to play it. I first tasted horse radish at his house, as my grandfather liked it with roast beef. I still don’t like it, but I like his carving knife, which is now in the knife drawer of our kitchen.

Late in 1961, Granddaddy became ill, and I remember going to see him at the California Hospital in downtown L.A., the same hospital that my mother, myself, and most of my cousins were born in. When he passed away the following May, I remember my grandmother comforting me, having just lost her husband of over fifty years. I had just turned six, and in my tears, I asked her why he had to die. She gently replied,

“God wanted him to come home.”

That comment deepened my faith, and still does, as I continually realize the value that family, faith, and fatherhood have had in my life.

-Hank

Photo Credit: Janice MacLean