By his daughter Sharon Lee Jones 

One of sixteen children, Frederick Eugene Jones, known as “Bud” to all his friends and family, was born October 3, 1901, at Malad City, Oneida, Idaho.  He was the son of Daniel and Mary Jane Thomas Jones. He was reared and educated in Malad City, Idaho. 

A life long member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, he married Mary Brookes Rose, January 7, 1925, at Malad.  From this union came four children: Fay Eugene Jones, Mary Lois, Sharon Lee and Wilford DeLon Jones. 

Dad was a farmer during  the early part of his married life.  He and his father worked together every day on the ranch where Dad had been raised.  He loved the ranch and had a great love for horses.  No matter how tiring the day might have been,  he always took wonderful care of his horses.  The horses that Dad and Grandpa Jones owned were known for their great beauty.  Dad and Grandpa were also noted for their excellent ability in training and handling their horses. 

Several years later Dad and Mom, with their two children, Fay and Mary Lois, moved to Preston, Idaho, where he continued to participate in the farming program.  But he did not like living in Preston as well as Malad and grew homesick for his hometown that he dearly loved and soon they moved back to Malad.  It was a hard time for Dad because he had no ranch to return to.  So many changes had been made and upon Grandpa’s death, the ranch had changed hands.  Dad, then went to work at the MaladLumber and hardware store.  On his return to Malad.  He was known as a very hard worker and those whom he worked with and for continually praised him for the very fine job he had done. 

A few years later he and his brother Steve formed a partnership in the Malad Sand and Gravel Company.  So many fun times were had by Lonnie and myself when we accompanied Dad on the out-of-town trips Dad made hauling sand.  He continued hauling until poor health made the trips more infrequent. 

I was eleven years old when my dad died, but so many things about him are alive in cherished memories.  My dad was quick tempered, he could flare like a match at anything that displeased him but it was also quickly forgotten.  One never had to worry about a misdemeanor being brought up over and over again, this was not our dad’s way.  He was a very big tease.  If there were ever any little children around Dad would be found amidst them telling stories of cowboys and Indians.  He’d hold their enthralled attention as he’d  tell how he would shoot and scalp the Indians and make them run for their lives.   He’d then give his favorite rendition of the “Preacher and the Bear”.  The wide-eyed children were never disappointed for my Dad had a very vivid imagination and his ability to hold his audience rapt attention could not be faulted.  When he joined a gathering the children would surround him begging for more Indian stories.  He was dearly beloved by children and he loved them too.  He was a kid at heart.  How I used to love the stories he’d tell.  He could describe it until one could almost imagine himself there reliving every exciting event. 

I remember traveling on the bus to Pocatello.  Dad, Mom, Lonnie and I were going to stay the week-end with Mary Lois and her husband Swede.  Dad and Lonnie were sitting in the seat across the aisle from us, behind them was an older woman traveling also and Dad started telling Lonnie about one of his Indian stories and as he got further along with his story the woman leaned forward as far as she could so she wouldn’t miss any part of it.  Later, Mom laughed because the lady had acted so much as if she had believed Dad’s tale.  He painted a vivid picture with words. 

But Dad had a serious side too.  He tried to take very good care of his family.  Times were sometimes tough, dad’s health was failing now and any extra money was spent on doctor and medical bills.  He saw that Lonnie and I were dressed nice and always had plenty to eat.  As I look back now I’m sure that he and mom sacrificed a lot so Lonnie and I could have what we needed. 

There were lots of fun times.  Whenever we went anywhere dad loved to take his family out to eat.  Then on the trip home we’d stop for a piece of pie and a drink.  He loved his family very much and it showed. 

He was ill so much the last five years of his life, it seemed like he was always being taken to the Ogden Hospital in critical condition.  I shall never forget that last time he left home.  He was so weak.  He laid his hand on the cupboard in our front room with tears in his eyes.  I was too little to know that he realized he would not be home again.  Fay and Uncle Steve half carried him out to the car and as they started to leave I began crying and even though I had no thought of his dying, I was sadder this time than I had ever been before. 

The next day Lobnnie and I got to go to Ogden to see him.  I remember as we walked into his room how much better he looked.  He was not nearly as yellow, and when I bent to kiss him, his hug was so strong it hurt.  He was the dad then that I had always known, not realizing how very ill he was.  

Just before it was time to leave, I said: “Hurry dad, and come home.”  The oddest look came over his face and he smiled.  “I’ll hurry home, Sherry,” he kissed me.  “But while I’m gone, be sure and help your mother all you can, won’t you?.  When she asks you to do things, hurry and do them for her and always be a good girl.” He hugged me and whispered: “Good-bye Sherry, I love you.”  “ I love you, too, Dad.”  That’s the last time I saw my dad alive. 

Three days later he was dead.  How can I tell of the heartache and tears that have been shed since that awful day.  When the cousins would gather together all would have their wonderful dad, I think it was then I missed him most.  Though he is gone his memory will always live in my  heart as will the memory, “ I love ya, Sherry.” And Dad, how much I love you! 

( picture Bud Jones) 

Poem  “My Father” Frederick Eugene Jones 

By Sharon Lee Jones “89” 

I jumped out of bed that morning ‘midst the early morning sun, 

  I did not know our lives would change to a very different one, 

I did not take the time to see the shadows ‘round the bend, 

  Or realize that very soon my Father’s life would end! 

I left my cares behind me as a young child often will, 

  Content in what today would bring but alas… my world grew still, 

I listened very quietly as Mom’s gentle voice explained 

  Our Dad had been called home again my heart beating with fierce pain, 

It cannot be!  It must not be! My breaking heart cried out 

   Why must my Father pass away, I thought in sudden doubt, 

Why should his life be over when he still had much to give, 

   So many years of happiness if he had only lived! 

Life would be so much different now I thought in deep despair, 

  How could we hope to ease the pain of Dad not being there! 

I thought of all the happiness he brought to others every day, 

  Bringing cheer and laughter all along the way, 

For the troubled hearts so weary he brought a ray of sweet content 

   As he scattered seeds of happiness everywhere he went. 

Dad had a deep compassion that his beneath a grin, 

   And with his teasing antics would cheer someone up again, 

He would help to ease their burdens for he always seemed to know 

   When someone was discouraged and feeling kinda low. 

Sometimes he’d burst out singing in a voice “twas so off key, 

   That anyone who heard him listened unbelievingly! 

Though well aware he was way off tune still loud the notes would flow, 

   Amazingly, incredibly, higher and higher they would grow. 

His favorite rendition he loved to sing most anywhere, 

   Was his own old time version of “Preacher and the Bear!” 

He was the greatest teaser, loved to stir up any crowd, 

   Especially with the children he did himself real proud! 

They;d be playing so contentedly one wouldn’t hear a peep 

   My dad would come in silently and softly he would creep… 

Until he got behind them then loudly he would say, 

   “Come here, I’ll cut your ears off, I need some for today!” 

He’d reach into his pocket and out would come his knife, 

   And like a mighty whirl -wind they went running for their life! 

Momma!, theft;d be screaming as they scattered everywhere, 

   Uncaring in their haste if they stepped on feet or chairs! 

Their screams came loud in unison ,’twas like a mighty roar, 

   As like stampeding cattle they flew through any door! 

The mothers would be scolding and cussing out each kid,’  

    And wouldn’t stop to listen at the teasing daddy did! 

When things had finally quieted, at last a sort of peace,’   

    Again he’d crook his finger and harmony would cease, 

He’d catch a child’s attention and slowly start to rise 

   Reaching in his pocket ‘midst their loud horrendous cries! 

He’d tease hour after hour but still the children knew 

   How much my Father loved them and they dearly loved him too! 

At all the family gatherings the older children voiced the plea, 

   “Uncle Bud, tell about the Indians and how it used to be 

When the Indians came to fight you, how they thought that they’d get in, 

   How they tried and tried to scalp you but you;d never let them win!” 

Dad would entertain for hours his audience entranced 

   With his daring feats and escapades while protecting the ranch 

His stories were outrageous each feat wilder than before 

   His imagination endless, he could tell them by the score! 

So many happy hours that brought a world of joy, 

   That thrilled the heart of many a little girl and boy! 

His stories now forever stilled and I thought with throbbing pain 

   How much that we’d all miss his never being home again. 

They brought him to my Grandma’s house, to the home where he was raised, 

   A home where love and laughter dwelt, with a family’s loving ways. 

He was so young and handsome as he lay in deep repose, 

   His suffering was ended, his ‘Book of Life’ had closed. 

So many years have come and gone still I feel such loneliness,   

   But I know God had a reason, His way for us is best, 

My dad is someone special who had made his mark in life, 

   Leaving a great heritage to his four children adn his wife, 

My dad lies there beneath the mound, has now for many years 

   And as I kneel beside his grave I feel the flowing tears! 

We didn’t have the time here kDad, to do the things we might have done, 

   But I’ve often felt your spirit near as if you shared each one 

Of life’s most cherished memories, seemed then I felt you  by my side, 

   And in my heart devotion and deep love for you resides. 

Sometime in the future Dad , I know I’ll be with you, 

   In that place that’s known as Heaven, in that land beyond the blue. 

Until that very special day when we never more shall part, 

   “ I love you, dearest daddy” echo’s deep within my heart! 

“My Dad” “ A TRIBUTE TO MY FATHER”  Frederick Eugene Jones 

 by Sharon Lee Jones Age: 15 

Home they brought my father dead but I too stunned to cry, 

Though all the others ‘round me wept, could not believe he’d died, 

I watched him lay in deep repose so handsome dressed in gray, 

As I beside his coffin stood I touched the hands of clay, 

“Your Dad is dead,” they said to me, “Now dear, please come away,” 

But I could only shake my head that by his side I’d stay, 

His eyes now closed, his work all done, a man he’d proved to be, 

The “Book of Life,” had ended now at last his soul was free, 

His head now rests beneath the mound has now for many years, 

I long to see the kindly face of the one I loved so dear, 

The pine is dark upon the hill, the wind blows soft and low, 

And underneath it lies the grave of the Father I loved so, 

So till we meet again dear dad, I know not when or where, 

I only know I’m waiting here and hope you’re waiting there, 

And when the darkness passes and you meet me on that shore, 

With arms outstretched in welcome I’ll be yours forever more. 

My DAD    by Lonnie Jones 

As the boy walked in that day 

He didn’t know what to say, 

The hospital so white and clean, 

He wondered, “What does all this mean?” 

The ladies were dressed in white 

For this young boy had not seen such a sight 

As they led him through the halls, 

What was this building of ceiling and walls? 

They said he was coming to see his dad. 

Oh, and how he’d felt so glad, 

For his dad had gone away one day 

To the hospital for a little stay. 

“ Dad is sick,” his mother had said. 

“He’ll be staying at the hospital in a bed. 

The doctors there will make Dad fine 

Then he’ll be coming home in time.” 

As I walked through the hall, 

I can still recall 

The thoughts that ran through my head, 

“Why does my dad still lay in bed? 

Is he sicker than they say? 

Can’t the doctors find a way  

To make him fine, like Mother said, 

So that he can get out of bed?” 

As we walk through the door, 

As I’m looking at the floor, 

My baseball cap in my hand 

I hear my dad say, “Come here, little man.” 

It’s with tears in his eyes 

And the young boy starts to cry. 

“I love you, Dad.” the words won’t come, 

As he says, “How’s my little son?’ 

We talk and cry, I feel so sad, 

For something tells me my dad is bad. 

As we left there I wasn’t sure 

If I’d see my father anymore. 

As we were going, he said, “Little man, 

I’ll see you when I can.” 

Now 28 years have gone by since I stood and cried 

In that room where my father died, 

With my baseball cap in my hand, 

But now I understand 

For, dear Dad, I know, too, 

That one day I’ll be seeing you. 

(picture of Lonnie)