A talk for my dad

My father, Clyde St. Clair died on Sunday Nov 22nd after struggling with Parkinson's Disease for over 10 years.

This was my talk for him at his funeral. I hope it gives you a better glimpse into the man that he was.

My talk today comes in two parts. First, I want to share with you some moments from the last two weeks of my father’s life here on earth. Second, I will give my tribute to the man who influenced my life’s direction more than any other person ever has or ever will.

My Father was my mentor, my foundation, my guide, my dad and my daddy. Yes, I’m not sure why, but during the last 2 weeks of his life for some reason it felt right to revert back to calling him daddy. At that point he really couldn’t respond verbally, but there were a few times that I at least got a smile and even what seemed like an attempt at laughter. I was fortunate enough to capture one of these moments on my cell phone camera. I will cherish that picture for the rest of my life. That was the first day I saw my dad in the nursing home.

The second time I saw him, he and I were fortunate enough to have my best friend Will there with us. It was then that we saw what may have been the last big smile of my father’s life. What was he smiling about? It was when Will told him about the record month we just had at the company dad founded, RidgeCrest Herbals. Yeah, he couldn’t speak, but he made it clear that he was happy about the news.

This was a special moment for me. You see, he had left a pretty good chunk of his heart back at RidgeCrest Herbals. Two of the last things my dad and his partner did before Parkinson’s forced his retirement were to hire me to formulate products and Will to sell them. I think he got a real kick out of hearing that not only had Will and I not put the company out of business, but it was actually working out ok.

The third time I saw dad at the nursing home was with my mom. It was that day that I knew he wasn’t going to be with us much longer. At this point he could no longer even attempt to talk to us, so I read to him out of one of my favorite books, Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader. He wanted to respond I think, but he just couldn’t.

The 4th and final time I saw dad at the nursing home was a week ago today. The home arranged for a special Thanksgiving dinner to be served to all of the residents and their families. I told my Mom that this would be the last Thanksgiving with dad. And I later told my wife that I didn’t think he would be with us at Christmas. It’s funny how when you look back you can see the Lord’s hand almost as clearly as the Brother of Jared or Moses must have seen it. As I walk back through the memories of my dad’s last 2 weeks, I can see that the extreme sadness that I felt when I saw him so helpless and alone in his nursing home was simply to prepare me to allow him to pass on without feeling that same level of sadness at his passing. It was so much harder to leave him there alone at that nursing home than it will be to leave his body in the earth today.

The good Lord allowed me to read to him one last time. To see him smile and nod approval at me one last time. To let my kids tell him stories and give him big hugs one last time. To spoon-feed him his last Thanksgiving dinner. And then Sunday night in his hospital bed to give him his last blessing telling him that he had done enough here and it was ok for him to leave us. For some, maybe these would seem like hard memories, but for me they are just more evidence of the love and mercy that our Savior has for all of us. The tender mercies of the Lord were so abundant during the last two weeks of my father’s life.

Before I get to the tribute to my dad, I want to give a short one to my mom. For ten years my dad was sick with that awful disease. For the last 5 of his life he was too sick to be consistently capable of taking care of himself much. For most of that time he couldn’t do much of anything for himself. I suppose it was probably something like taking care of a new baby. Only with a new baby, you see progress and the joy of new life instead of constant regression and the sadness of a life slowly wasting away. To see a once strong, sharp and capable man deteriorate into a weak and demented shell was incredibly hard for my mom. And if you know my mom at all, you know that she dotted every “I” and crossed every “t” multiple times as she meticulously cared for him. She provided loving care when it seemed sometimes that he didn’t care. She provided selfless service when sometimes he seemed so selfish. You have to understand that my dad was completely frustrated by this challenge. He fought it. He fought it hard. My dad didn’t like to lose. He wasn’t used to it. But he couldn’t figure out how to win this war. In business and in life he lost plenty of battles but he didn’t lose wars. He kept fighting until he came out on top. So to watch himself slowly become someone else was beyond discouraging for him. Many nights I talked to my dear mom as she told me that she just didn’t know how much longer she could do this. She always felt guilty when she vented to me about this.
Mom, you have nothing to feel guilty for and you never did. You did more for Dad in the last five years than all of the previous ones combined. You kept dad home and you fought this fight right by his side. And you know what? You guys didn’t lose the war after all. In reality, you won. You kept dad home for all but 2.5 weeks and then you were there by his side to watch him slip away into eternity. Mom, I know I speak for everyone that loves dad, when I say, Thank you. Thank you for your undying devotion and love and selfless service. We love you.

And now for the tribute.

For those of you who know me well, I handle most of life’s happy and sad times with a bit of humor. One of my favorite things about my dad was his quick wit and wry sarcasm. It turns out that these, along with my hairline are some of the many things that he was generous enough to pass on to me. So, while this is a solemn occasion, I couldn’t see speaking about my father without including humor and a bit of that sarcasm, so feel free to laugh if I say something funny. After all, this is a joyous occasion more so than it is a sad one.

Business was a big part of my dad’s life. He loved what he did. He did what he loved. He was a pioneer in the natural products industry. Back when he started it wasn’t much of an industry. Mainly just a bunch of wacko health nuts that thought White bread was bad for you and Wheat Grass was good for you. My dad influenced a generation or two of future health nuts. To this day, I am recognized by the last name on my trade show badge. “You must be Clyde’s son?” they say. It is always an honor to say, “yes I am.”

I grew up in the back of my parents Nutrition Shoppe. From the time I was 7 till about the time I was 14 I learned a lot from my mom. She was managing the store back then. But about the time I turned 15 my mom retired. So it was time for me to learn the ropes for real. For a while I helped my brother Craig manage the shop. But when Craig moved on, it became my job to manage the store and hire people and set schedules and place orders, the whole bit. My dad would come in on Saturdays and see how I was doing. These were some special years for me. It was my dad trusting me to not let him down. Nothing motivated me like that.

Due to child labor laws not applying to one’s own children, I wasn’t paid very well. But, it didn’t really matter. I just wanted to make dad proud. I will always remember when we had a big day I would call my dad while I was closing out the till and tell him all about it. He was always just as excited as I was. Looking back on it, I think I told him a lot of small things that seemed big to me. But he never let on that it wasn’t just as big to him. I would call with big ideas on how to make the store better. I would call sometimes even after the first couple hours of the day, (if they were really good ones). My dad was always excited to hear from me and I lived for that excitement. Hearing my dad be so proud of me was worth way more than my little paycheck ever was.

But my dad wasn’t just weird because of his line of work. He was weird in so many ways. It was my dad that wore Birkenstock sandals to church….with socks! He and my mom sent us to school with 100% whole-wheat sandwiches and organic beef jerky with no nitrates or nitrites. We didn’t eat Tostito’s and Cheeto’s. We ate Health Valley corn chips and Barbara’s Cheese puffs. Barbara’s Cheese puffs aren’t Orange, they are white and the corn chips are blue! Our bologna didn’t have a first name at all. And it wasn’t made from pork parts it was made from real turkeys by some family named Shelton, not some dude named Oscar.

Imagine being 9 years old and pulling out your sack lunch. Its got brown bread with brown mustard and even browner bologna, Blue Chips and fruit leather that was actually made of fruit and felt like real leather when you tried to eat it. Yep, when your parents are weird, you don’t really have a choice in the matter. But it didn’t stop at our diets. No, it went way beyond that.

Where did the kids in my neighborhood go to school? Why, they went down the street. Where did I go to school? In Murray! We lived in Bountiful. But, my dad wanted the best for us and he didn’t really trust the government to educate his children. So we went to a little tiny private school in Murray, Utah called Mount Vernon Academy.

And then there were the holidays. Halloween? Trick or Treating? Huh? Nope, we didn’t trick or treat, we went bowling and got pizza. Halloween was Pizza a bowling night for the St. Clairs.

And Christmas trees? No way, too pagan.

But before you start feeling sorry for us St. Clair kids. Wait a minute. It wasn’t long before I had kids trying to trade me for that jerky or those chips (not so much the sandwiches though).

It was because of Mount Vernon Academy that a kid 5 foot 6 could play high school basketball. It was there that I met Will, the greatest guy in the world who has been my best friend since we met in 7th grade. It was at Mount Vernon that you didn’t get voted into Student body office, you were appointed. That’s right, your’e looking at the former Student Body President here folks.

And the holidays? Well, some of the best nights of my life were spent eating pizza and bowling with my favorite people in a deserted bowling alley. I always found just the right ball on Halloween nights.

And who needs a Christmas tree when your father has the foresight to gently remind his children that all gifts come from God and so our gifts sat underneath the Nativity Scene. When we looked up we saw our Savior and when we looked down we saw the representation of all that He has given us.

So was my dad crazy? Sure he was, crazy like a fox. I said earlier that he was a pioneer. He was. Long before Acai berries, Noni or Xango, my dad knew that you really are what you eat. There wasn’t much science to back up his beliefs at that time. He just knew. My dad looked at the world through different glasses than most people use. And he did what he believed to be right regardless of what anyone else thought. He just didn’t care what anyone else thought about how he lived his life. Sandals at church, private school, health food and weird holiday traditions, it all adds up to a real individual. He was an independent person with an independent mind. It was that independence that led him to work in the nutrition industry and also led him to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It has been said that Mormons are a peculiar people. Well, when dad found the church, he must have thought he would fit right in. It turns out that he was slightly more peculiar even than most Mormons.

Truth is, for the most part, he was just a bit ahead of his time. Now lots of people shop at health stores and take vitamins. They sell Blue Corn chips and turkey bologna at the regular grocery store. Private and charter schools are popping up all over the place and even Birkenstocks aren’t that strange anymore. Funny thing is that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree as they say. Grab one of my kids after the funeral and ask them about the weird stuff I put in their lunches.


Everyone needs a foundation, someone or something that they can rely on. My dad was my foundation. He was and is the one man that I never want to let down and always want to make proud. I am grateful for his knowledge and foresight, his humor and work ethic, his discipline and love. I am eternally grateful for the strong relationship that we had here on earth. And I look forward to building on that relationship throughout eternity. I love you dad, see you later.