My Personal Reflections on the Life of Grandfather David Ririe
By David Ririe

It was not my privilege to know Grandpa Ririe, but since I was named for him, Grandmother and my parents often talked to me about him and he was a hero to me. Following are some of the things that were related to me.

Mother had high regard for Grandpa Ririe. She stressed his hospitality and friendly nature saying that any knock on his door was followed by a hearty invitation, “Come in.”

Dad told me of his love of the outdoors, of fishing, camping, and farming. On one occasion the ward went on an outing on the Snake River across from Black’s Canyon. The men scattered to try their luck as anglers. Grandpa Ririe was more successful than anyone else and, in fact, caught fish in sufficient quantity to feed the whole group.

Dad told of sluffing off on his chores and failing to milk the cows. Uncle Joseph and Grandpa milked them when they found that the work had not been done. Dad decided that he would try the same stunt a second evening. At about eleven o'clock that night Grandpa awakened Dad and told him he had failed to milk his cows. Dad said he knew better than to sluff off on that chore again.

Dad often quoted Uncle Joseph who said, "Father never made a dime from milking cows, but he sure taught us to work."

When Max and I started high school Dad followed Grandpa Ririe's example by buying a herd of dairy cows for us to milk during our high school days.

Grandpa was very progressive. His orchard was the largest in the area. Long after his death we enjoyed the fruit of his labors. In the grove there were plums, cherries, pears, and many varieties of apples. In fact there were apple varieties that I have seldom seen since, such as Yellow Transparent, Whitney Crab, Gano, Ben Davis, and Wolf River. The best variety was the McIntosh, an excellent storage apple, which we had in abundance every winter. He also had a cider mill which we utilized to make apple juice each harvest season. Grandma Ririe preserved the Whitney crab apples whole in a spicy juice. We ate them by holding the stem and sucking or biting the flesh of the apple from the core. They were delicious. The very large Wolf Rivers were cut in half, cored, and sprinkled over with sugar and cinnamon. Covered with cream the baked apples were relished by all of us.

Grandmother Ririe often told us about the time Dad overheard Grandpa saying he needed to grease his buggy. The 1ittle boy covered the vehicle from tongue to the top of the seats with axle grease.

Mother said she never heard of anyone that didn’t like Grandpa Ririe. Uncle Bert in his book, "They Come,” praised Grandpa Ririe for his leadership and energy in constructing the canal system for the irrigation needs of the valley.

George Summers who interviewed me before my ordination to the Melchizedek Priesthood said no one had better grandfathers than I did Even though Grandpa didn't live to see any of his grandchildren, his life was an inspiration to us. I don't believe I ever entered Grandmother's house but what I looked with admiration and reverence at the picture of Grandfather David Ririe.

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