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.