Tom Monson's father was a printer
who worked long hours during the week.
As a boy, Tom observed the example
of his father, who honored the Sabbath by bringing cheer
to elderly friends and family members.
Sunday was my father's only day off.
I'm sure he would have enjoyed relaxing at home,
but invariably he would say, "Come along Tommy.
Let's take Uncle Elias for a drive."
Boarding the old 1928 Oldsmobile,
we would proceed to 8th West to the home
of Uncle Elias and Aunt Tine.
I would wait in the car while dad went inside.
Soon he would emerge from the house,
carrying his crippled uncle in his arms like a little china
doll.
I would open the door and watch how
tenderly my father would place Uncle Elias in the front seat.
Then we'd take him for a ride around the city.
Dad never wanted any thanks for this service,
but his lesson was not lost on me.