My dad, Dallas Greener, was not a sparkling conversationalist. Repartee was not part of his repertoire. He was a teacher which meant that chatting with him mostly involved listening to everything from his thoughts on the state of public education to a description of a recent golf game—stroke by stroke by stroke.
Of his three sons, only my youngest brother Phil could get dad to talk about personal things. Phil worked hard at communicating with Dad and learned about his early years, growing up on a small farm in Hinckley, Utah. Dad came from humble circumstances and developed into a first rate athlete.
There wasn’t much to do in Hinckley, and competitive sports were a big part of early years. He was on Hinckley High School’s five-member basketball team that won the Utah State High School Championship. That was before schools were separated into classes according to the size of the student body.
He was able to attend Utah State University through an athletic scholarship. In those days, that only meant tuition, a discount on books, and a job that actually needed to be performed. He was all-conference half back on the 1937 championship team, the last undefeated team Utah State had. He said, “If I hadn’t played football, I would never have been able to attend college.”
Dad eventually became the Gunnison High School Principal, a school with a student body of about 350 kids in grades seven through twelve. That made me a big target for anyone who got in trouble with Dad. It also meant that when I got in trouble, I got sent to the Principal (Dad) or to the library (Mom was the librarian). My high school years were challenging for me and for them.
Dad was born in 1914. He was one of the Greatest Generation. He survived the Great Depression, got his education, got married, served in World War II, bought a house, completed an honorable career, and served his community in many ways. He and Mom took many trips all over the world—not bad for a guy who was 13 years old when Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic.
While he was raised in the most humble of circumstances in a tiny town, he adapted to change readily. When Phil was a teenager, Dad helped him get a couple of horses. Phil loved riding and constantly asked Dad to join him. One day, Phil said, “Why don’t you ever want to come riding with me?” Dad said, “When I was growing up, if you needed to get somewhere you rode a horse. I rode a horse every day. Now I have a car,” He was always a practical man.
