O' Captain, my Captain

On Sunday, April 1, 2007, my great-uncle Jay Penrod Mackenzie passed away. And today he was laid to rest, surrounded by family and friends. Rather than mourn his death...I choose to celebrate his life with all of you. Following are tributes written by his grandsons, Denton and Beau Mackenzie.

Tribute to Grampa

Circumstances do not make a man…they reveal him. My grandpa is a good example of this truth. Jay Penrod Mackenzie was born on September 27, 1922, to Joseph Paul Mackenzie and Flava Rosetta Penrod. My grandpa grew up in Provo, Utah, and spent most of his life here. He joined the United States Navy in 1940 and was assigned to the USS ST. LOUIS. And on December 7, 1941, while stationed at Pearl Harbor, my grandpa witnessed the Japanese attack on the harbor from the deck of his ship, the USS ST. LOUIS (Later called the Lucky Lou because it was the only battle ship that escaped the harbor during the bombing).

Grandpa told me many sea stories about bombs breaking through the deck, wiping out his bunk and everything he owned. He told me about all the ammunition he’d fired during his battle at Pearl Harbor. I dreamed of being in those situations. So, when I grew up, I decided to join the Navy.

I was stationed at Pearl Harbor for a short time…the first sea voyage of my 12 year career in the United States Navy Reserve. I will never forget the experience of being there. I felt I had gone back in time and wasn’t sure if I could be as tough as my grandpa. Living at sea was one of the toughest things I’d ever done…after being underway for only two weeks! I never did get sick, but boy did my legs sway when I came back ashore. But I just had to experience the sea for myself. I had to know what my grandpa had lived through.

During my grandpa's Navy career, he participated in 11 major battles in the Pacific Campaign. During one of his campaigns he was at sea for almost a year, never seeing land. After surviving these battles, he was discharged at the Brooklyn Navy yard in December 1946. Grandpa returned to Utah where he met my grandmother, Lucille Hunt...and later married her on February 18, 1947. They celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary last month. He later graduated from Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah, with a Bachelor of Science in Geology and a minor in Mathematics.


Speaking of Geology, grandpa owned a mine in Nevada. We knew it as the Cherry Creek Mine. It was near an abandoned mining town full of all sorts of buildings and mining equipment. Imagine telling people, "My grandpa has a gold mine!" Grandpa taught me to pan for gold. And I thought I was pretty good at it until he showed me all that was in the pan was "fools" gold. Ironically, I now work in the mining industry.

Grandpa really enjoyed hunting and fishing. I tried both...but was too impatient for fishing. So, we went hunting a lot. I remember going with grandpa and dad up in the mountains above Walsburg. We would be into the toughest, most rugged places with the horses. Grandpa would say, "Here we go. Hey! Hey!" Regardless of those rugged places, he would always be smiling. I will never forget the time my horse decided to go to our spot on the hill with or without me. Grandpa taught me simple things like how to walk up a mountain without wearing myself out by traversing up the hill. There is a great lesson to be learned here that can be applied to all areas of our lives.

I recall a time when I went into the Uintah Mountains with grandpa and dad; I was pretty nervous due to we had the horses (Which, over the last few years I had spent many a time flying through the air as result of them). I remember about mid way through our trip we came to a drop-off and there was a narrow, winding path carved into the side of the mountain.

With a sick, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach I decided to get off the horse and walk: I couldn't see the trail over the sides of the horses! Dad decided to walk, too. Grandpa just looked at us like we were silly and said, "Why would you want to walk? That's what we brought the horses for!" This is how he lived his life. Doubt is what will make you fail; grandpa had no doubt.

Camping was always great with grandpa. I just loved it when he would wake up in the morning and look around...with his hair standing straight up. He had the worse bed head I have ever seen. Now, I have his hair (And his hairline!). He always told me I would grow a forehead, but I didn't believe him.

I am going to really miss him and I know many of you feel the same way. He led his life without fear or regret. I never heard grandpa complain about a hard life or any other thing my whole life. I only hope I can live up to his legend. He was the toughest, most loving person alive; his wit was matched by none.

When I looked at him these last few days I have seen myself. He was the best grandpa you could ever ask for and his adventures have sent me on a few of my own. Now, he has gone on to the greatest adventure of all. I know he will take with him a lifetime of experience and knowledge that few acquire on earth. I know he is well and look forward to seeing him again.

I want my grandmother to know how much I love her and my grandfather. I would not be the person I am today if it were not for them. They have made me who I am and want them to know that they did a very good job.

I would like to read a poem now, titled:

The Sailor's 23rd Psalm

The Lord is my Pilot, I shall not go adrift.
He lighteth my passage across dark channels.He steereth me through the deep waters; He keepeth my log. He guideth me by the evening star for my safety's sake.

Yea, though I sail mid the thunders and tempests of life, I shall fear no peril. For Thou art with me. Thy stars and heavens...they comfort me. The vastness of the sea upholds me.

Surely fair winds and safe harbors shall be found all the days of my life. And I shall moor fast and secure, forever. Amen.

Fair winds and following seas, grandpa.

Memories of Grampa

When one dies, we have photographs and memories to keep them alive in our minds.I would like to talk about my memories of grandpa.

My earliest memory of my grandpa is spending the night at his house...watching his nightly ritual of retiring to bed...waking up in the morning , seeing his crazy "bed-head" hair, and watching him slick it back with a fine tooth comb.

I remember going camping and hunting with grandpa (Which he loved). I was the one who always got to sleep with him. I never worried about getting cold because sleeping next to him was like having a built in furnace next to me. Grandpa would cook breakfast for us and was always eager to get on the mountain to get the big buck.

On the mountain we had a favorite spot where we would wait for deer. My brother and dad would try to flush the deer out into the open, while grandpa and I would wait together. During these times grandpa and I would have a pudding snack or kemper snack (Sardines in mustard sauce) that grandpa had brought on the hunt. I always loved to eat with him and grew to love the foods he liked.

Grandpa always brought his dog, Festus, on the hunts with us. And that dog was the best hunting dog one could have on a hunt. Festus would point out the birds and always clean-eat his prey...never wasting any of it.

While my siblings and I were growing up, grandpa and grandma would show up every Christmas morning to help put our new toys together. Grandpa always had the patience it took to assemble our toys.

As a boy I played little league football. Grandpa was always there, watching me play. And afterward, he would take me to the BYU football game for which he bought season tickets each year. He loved watching the JAZZ basketball games on television. And I loved watching those games with him, too.

Grandpa was a nice dresser. I loved his cool shirts, bell-bottom pants, and pointy boots. I was always tempted to wear one of his shirts and did so when I lived in his house. He was my way cool guy. When I married my wife, grandpa proudly gave me shirt cuffs. I never thanked him; however, I am honored to wear them.

Grandpa loved rocks, especially precious metals, and loved to talk about panning for gold. And as I grew up, I realized my own love of rocks and precious metals. I once asked grandpa, "Why didn't you pan for gold more often? His reply, “I am trying to stay away from a lot of work…just to get a couple of specks of gold!”

My grandpa’s stubbornness was a joy to my heart. Once, grandpa and dad were on a drilling rig and grandpa was serving hot soup to my dad. The handle on the soup pot broke, causing grandpa to spill the hot soup on dad’s lap. However, grandpa couldn’t get rid of that broken-handled pan. As far as he was concerned the pot still worked just fine.

More than being just a way cool guy, grandpa was a great example to all of us. His great respect for women made him a favorite among them. He was a true gentleman. He never failed to express his love to my grandma; everyone knew they were lovers for life.

Grandpa’s great smile always expressed love; he never had to say it, but you knew it! He was always forgiving of others even when they had crossed him, or taken advantage of him. If they asked, he continued to give to them. From the kindness of his heart he touched the lives of countless people. He never turned a beggar away and had great compassion for others.

My grandpa was a great American in every way! He had respect for his country, as well as respect for the liberties we enjoy in this country. He was one with nature and loved the outdoors...in his cool shirts and with his loving dog, Festus, by his side. I know grandpa will be missed and his memory will last forever in our minds.

And though we may be sad at grandpa’s passing, for him...there is a joyous reunion on the other side with family, friends, and his favorite dog, Festus. Grandpa's spirit lives on!

May we all remember Jay P. Mackenzie, the way cool great American hero!

In Gratitude

As I listened to my cousins share their memories of their grandfather, I was filled with admiration for the finest man I've ever known: Jay Penrod Mackenzie. And on Valentine's Day of this year I took the time to express my gratitude and love for this truly, "great" uncle. Now, I share my gratitude with all of you:

Dear Uncle Jay,

You are my "other father". Although I am not your daughter, I love you like a daughter loves her father. When you look at me, your eyes twinkle and you smile like you know all my secrets. And that's ok. Because, I trust you and know my secrets are safe with you. I admire your calm composure and appreciate how you always have time to listen to me when I take the time to talk to you.

By the way, I never told you that your fascination for rocks, dirt, and dinosaurs sparked an interest in me to study earth science (So much so that I took earth sciences to fulfill my science requirement for college). I wish now that I would have taken earth science courses earlier in my academic pursuits...I might have grown up to be a dinosaur-loving, rock-hugger like you. Watching you get excited about a BYU football game or settling down in your favorite chair to watch the Utah JAZZ always makes me smile.

Several years ago I contemplated buying an expensive, flashy sports utility vehicle (SUV) and was willing to go into major debt over the thing. When I asked you what you thought about me buying the thing you replied, “A car is just a car and doesn’t make you who you are. You need dependable transportation. That is what a car is supposed to be...dependable transportation.” And you were right. I heard what you said and saved myself thousands of dollars of interest!

While I was yet unborn, you protected and preserved my freedom. As your shipmates lost their lives (And you fought for you own) you cleared the road ahead for me...the road that leads to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Because of your ‘fight to the death’ the life I’m living today is possible.

Thank you, Uncle Jay, for protecting and preserving my freedom. I am proud and honored to be your great-niece!

I love you, forever.

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So, until I land in that safe harbor where you rest, good-bye for now...O' captain, my captain.