Richard C Jones

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My dad, Richard (Dick) Carloss Jones wanted me to begin with an apology. He had hoped to write this himself, but he got sidetracked by making plans to shovel his neighbors’ driveways while simultaneously organizing the neighborhood irrigation schedule for this upcoming spring and summer. As such, writing his eulogy was delegated to me, his son, Gregg. Of course, being busy serving others is nothing new for my father. His training began early. He was born in Price, Utah on March 7, 1937 to Milton “Pat” Carlos Jones and Leone Elizabeth Nielsen Jones. They were in the depths of the Great Depression. “Poverty was an item everyone shared”, he says. As such, they and the families nearby lived blissfully off the work of their daily efforts, completely unaware of their suffering. At two years of age, Dick and his older sisters, Joyanne and Patsy had the daily assignment to walk along the railroad tracks near their home and collect pieces of coal that fell off the loaded railway cars. From their diligent work during the warmer months, they stockpiled the fuel needed to fire the stove in their kitchen and heat the family’s house during the winter, a necessary item that they could not otherwise afford to buy.

What’s that, Dad? The Casper’s driveway has already been plowed. I checked this morning.

Anyway, back to Dad’s eulogy. This same railroad was used by many men (‘hobos’) as a source of transport from one job to another. They lived in a camp near a stream that bordered the rail line. Describing them dad said, “everyone in our neighborhood lived in poverty, yet not knowing what poverty was, but these hobos lived in abject poverty.” Frequently, one of these men would stop at their door begging for food. When that happened, Dick’s mother would always fix a sandwich and give it to the man. The varied responses of these men made an impression on Dick. Some left grateful. Others, not liking what was given, threw the food into the ditch as soon as they exited the front gate. From that experience during his tender years, Dick decided which of those attitudes he wanted to carry through life.

When he was five years old, Dick’s family moved a few miles to a small farm in Provo, Utah. Over the next five years, he worked alongside his father improving the house, building a barn and planting and harvesting the fields. Work wasn’t the only thing occupying Dick’s time, however. There were several large trees on the property and, as any normal boy would, Dick spent a lot of time climbing those trees. It was after watching Tarzan on a Saturday afternoon matinee that he began his short career in physics. He decided to run a series of experiments to determine the ideal branch altitude to rope length ratio that should be used for heroic vine swinging. It was during the first of those experiments that he rediscovered Newton’s laws of gravitational attraction. That discovery impacted him greatly. Thus, he lost his interest in physics and turned back to his training in physical labor and service to others.

The family purchased a farm in Meridian, Idaho when Dick was ten years old. By then, his skills for serving and helping on the farm had expanded to hitching teams of horses and driving them to plow fields, rake hay and do whatever else needed to be done. He attended a one-room schoolhouse. As an older student, he had the responsibility to help the younger students master their skill levels for reading, writing and arithmetic. Penmanship was a highly valued skill, and Dick frequently won the school’s award for his.

Yes, Dad, I helped Mom set the table. She says dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. I’ll help you get there when she calls us.

Where was I? Oh yeah, school. After graduating high school, Dick attended Brigham Young University in Provo Utah in the fall of 1955. When he went home for Thanksgiving, he met Irene Moyle at a local church dance. Impressed with the young lady, he asked her out on a date the next day. Being a romantic man of the world, he took her duck hunting. Dick failed to shoot any birds that afternoon. However, after watching Irene crawl on frozen ice with him without complaining and then having her fall asleep with her head in his lap during the drive home, Irene bagged Dick’s heart.

Irene and Dick continued dating as often as they could for the next few months. Their courtship was put on hold, however, when Dick was called to serve a full-time proselyting mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His field of assignment was the country of Brazil. After two and a half years preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ, Dick returned home. When an agonizingly long period of eight weeks had passed, Dick and Irene were married and sealed for time and all eternity in the Salt Lake, Utah Temple August 9, 1960.

No, Dad. There aren’t any sheep in the pasture. Ron moved them out several weeks ago. He made sure to clean out the shed for you too.

Dick and Irene were very busy the next few years. Their first son, Brent was born 1961 in Provo while Dick finished school. In 1964, Zchon (Shawn) was born after they had moved to Colville, Washington. Val arrived in 1965 while they were living in Auburn, Washington. Dick acted as the impromptu midwife in 1967 when Clint was born in an upstairs apartment after the onset of 10-minute sudden labor in Dayton, Washington. Two pushes and he was out! That little adventure produced an article in the local newspaper.

In 1968 Dick began working for the National Bank of Commerce and moved the family to Quincy, Washington. They remained there for eight years during which time their last son, Gregg, was born in 1969 and their only daughter, Richele completed the family in 1971.

The earliest memories that all of us children had were of working – either around our house or doing service at someone else's. To recount every time that I personally accompanied my father on some mission of mercy would be tedious, to say the least. I will share one, however. There were two older ladies in our ward that Dad visited regularly with me in tow to make sure that they were well cared for. With their little, yapping dogs nipping at our heels, we would change light bulbs, clean furnace filters, and repair window screens. I had no patience for those stupid dogs. I could barely hear anything over their incessant barking. Dad patiently taught me, however, that those dogs were very important to those frail ladies. They offered companionship that they sorely needed and the alerts they gave out whenever someone was nearby provided a sense of security for them. One day, just as I had arrived home from school, I got a phone call from Dad. He had been informed that one of the dogs had died. He was unable to get away from work, so he asked me to go over and bury the dog. When I arrived, I was greeted by the two somber spinsters. I dug a hole and with greatest solemnity laid the ancient, but once fierce sentinel to rest. When I was finished, I did what I knew my father would do. I sat with them and allowed them to tell me that ratty old dog’s life story. As I listened to the old sisters drone, I felt something change inside me. I realized that the hours of service that Dad dragged me along to do with him had little to do with the changed light bulbs and the minor repairs. It was about sharing love with God’s children, just as He shares it with us. I went home humbled that day. It was no wonder that future visits to them and all the other times I’ve been blessed to serve since that time have been done with a more willing and grateful heart.

Heather and Angela brought this meal over for us, Dad. They heard you weren’t feeling well and wanted to thank you for all the help you’ve given them over the years.

Dick’s selfless service at Irene’s side eventually blessed him in a way that he had never expected. In 1992, they traveled together to Lewisville, Idaho to assist after a funeral. Val, their son, had a father-in-law suddenly pass away. Dick and Irene had become friends with Steve and Rosalie Moss, Val’s in-laws, and wanted to be there to ease the burden that came with Rosalie’s tragic loss. Generally just giving comfort, they spent a few days with her helping where they could. Two short years later, In the fall of 1994, Irene was diagnosed with terminal cancer. After sharing a few precious months with her family, she passed away February 19, 1995. Remembering Dick and Irene’s kindness and wanting to support Val, Rosalie traveled to Quincy, Washington to attend Irene’s funeral. Dick recognized a fellow selfless servant. A few months later, he traveled back to Lewisville and asked Rosalie’s permission to court her. She was surprised, even excited – but uncertain. After many exchanged letters and a promise to grow old together though, Rosalie accepted his proposal. They were married in July. Dick had agreed that when he retired, he and Rosalie would return to Lewisville to live. So, in 2001, he set his banking career aside and happily made good on his promise.

With childlike delight, he remodeled and expanded their Lewisville home. Then he made improvements in the yard and garden and made the pasture more functional. A new shop was erected. Steadily he filled it with equipment to shovel, rake, plow, till, or perform any other chore that might be needed at his house or a neighbor’s. Without the burden of a 40-hour work week, his opportunities to serve were endless and he took advantage of every chance that presented itself. For longer than any time in his life, Dick lived in one place (24 years), learning to know, love and serve the people in the Lewisville area.

Horseback riding was a favorite retirement past-time for Dick and Rosalie. They rode in the mountains, the deserts and, when they didn’t have time to load their geldings into the trailer, around the neighborhood. They stayed in their saddles until they could no longer ride. Dick was not to be thwarted, however. The moment they put their noble steeds out to pasture, he went out and purchased a RZR side-by-side and headed back into the hills with his bride at his side!

Together, Dick and Rosalie served three full-time missions for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Two teaching English and agricultural management at a large, church owned farm in Brazil, and another two years of service in the Family History Center in Salt Lake. In his lifetime, Dick served his church in many capacities. Included in those were stake executive secretary, stake clerk, ward clerk, bishopric counselor, bishop, and high priest group leader. However, of all the titles in God’s service that Dick held, his most treasured were husband, father, and grandfather.

Richard (Dick) Carloss Jones passed away Tuesday, February 4, 2025. He was survived by his loving wife, Rosalie, six children, three stepchildren, eight children-in-law (is that even a term?), 41 grandchildren, 60 great-grandchildren, and three more great-grandchildren on the way (that we know of). With grateful hearts, each of us celebrate his incredible example and joyfully send him off on his next step in Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness.

Don’t worry, Dad, we’ve made arrangements to keep Mom’s walks cleared. The lawn will be mowed just the way you like when spring comes. The irrigation will get done. Everything’s all arranged. We’ll be with you again when the time comes.

We love you, Dad.

A funeral service will be held Saturday, February 8, 2025 at 2:00 pm in the Menan Ward Chapel (3547 East Menan-Lorenzo Highway, Menan, Idaho 83434). The family will meet with friends prior to the service from 11:00 am to 1:45 pm at the church. The interment will be in the Quincy Valley Cemetery in Quincy, Washington (104 B Street SW. Quincy, WA 98848) at 11:00 am on Monday, February 10, 2025.