One Hundred Years, Today...

MY DAD

James Harvey Davenport was born on this day 100 years ago...September 5, 1914.  Had he lived to see this day, we would have referred to him as a Centenarian.  When I look at these pictures of my dad, I am reminded of the man I grew to love...more than life itself, because I am his daughter, and because he was my friend.  He was a happy young man, who grew to adulthood in a little town in southern Utah, called Parowan.  His great grandfather, Thomas Davenport, came to the little town and helped it grow in the mid 1800's.  Thomas was a potter and shared his talents with the community.  Thomas was also a farmer, as was his son John and John's son, John Alvin (dad's father...my grandfather).

Dad grew up working hard on the farm...tending the animals, hoeing the corn fields, and gathering in the crops.  He loved music and he loved to dance.  It was the latter that won my mother's heart in Cedar City, Utah.  That is where they met and fell in love.  Dad was the best husband and father...ever!  I can say that without hesitation, because he somehow was able to put up with me and my temper tantrums, my growing pains, my spoiled attitudes as a teenager, and my tears as I found my way through the difficult life I made for myself.  He was always there to give me advice, comfort me, and teach me some of life's most valuable lessons.  And the love of his life, my mother, was the best thing that ever happened to him.  Oh, how he loved her!

Dad served in the Santa Monica 1st Ward as Ward Clerk.  He also spent some time in the Young Men's organization as an adviser.  While owning a restaurant, called Pickle Bill's, he served as the President of the Santa Monica Bay Area Restaurant Association.  He served well, and through his efforts, brought the restaurant industry to new levels, with a campaign to get folks out of their homes at least once a week, and support their local restaurant businesses.  It was a successful campaign.

Dad was a businessman, a father, a hunter, a fisherman, a brother and a son.  But, most importantly, he was a loving husband to my beautiful mother, Florence, for 55 years.  If I had had my way, I would have kept him here for another 26 years, at least.  His untimely death in June of 1989, at the age of 74, came as a shock to everyone he knew.

I miss you, daddy...and I always will.  I look forward to seeing you again when it is my turn to leave this frail existence and come and dwell with you and our Savior, Jesus Christ, in our eternal home for all eternity..