Hello, Everyone! My name is Shelley Smith and I'm Mick's daughter. I wanted to say thank y'all (especially to the Administrator for creating this tribute!). My father's death was so sudden that it was a shock to me. I'm still trying to process the loss. What a gift this thread was to read. I know that this community meant a lot to him. Don't think, for once, that the lack of mention in his obituary is a direct correlation to the role each one of you played in his life. It was simply so overwhelming to process everything we wanted to say...that it was just omitted from the obituary. He took great pride in his learning scrapmetaling and helping others. He is so humble though, he never once mentioned how many people he's mentored through this site. It doesn't surprise though, because he was that type of person. I cannot thank you all enough for sharing your thoughts and the impact he had in your life.
I thought I'd share the words I wrote for his funeral here. I'll end it with those words. Before that though, I can't say THANK YOU so much enough! After reading all of your comments, I'm so proud to be his daughter.
I don’t remember a time – ever—that I was NOT proud to call Mick Smith dad.
He was a Proud man…but not in a vain way. Would relay stories of things he did, but if he received acallades in person it would make him uncomfortable.
Shoot the sh--.It really takes a special kind of person to develop this talent. It required you to be intelligent balanced with a down to earth presence. Dad was the type of person that could talk your ear off about, well, everything….and …nothing. A five minute conversation would easily turn into a 2 hour visit….with a total stranger. But it was always a conversation with depth to it. You wanted to keep talking to him.
He was the salt of the earth type of person. During visitation several people said, I didn’t realize he was a counseling psychologist.
Best Advice: If anyone ever offers you training of any form, whether it is applicable to your job or not, take it. It’s taken me down some interesting paths, but well worth it. This is advice I have passed along to my two children as well.
Work ethic: He relayed a story that his father came home one day and told my dad there was a job for him in town. Get to work. So dad showed up, they put him to work. He always said, “Tell me when and where you want me, I’ll be there.” Work until there is no more work to be had. Which is ironic in a way, because he retired at 50 years old.
I still miss his pancakes on a Sunday morning, if you got up early enough. He’d cook the bacon and the pancakes, but you had to eat a full pancake in order to have the bacon. He might have an egg, but no kid could even eat all the pancake, let alone an egg too! It’s the only meal I ever saw him cook. Saturday morning breakfast is a tradition in my house to this day. That sense of family, laughing at jokes, talking about nothing, solving all the world’s problem…that’s what these breakfasts were about.
I miss his Saturday drives. He would find an empty day (which were very few and far between) and ask me if I wanted to take a drive with him. We never had a plan (or a map), no agenda. But these days I knew I’d be gone until at least sundown. We’d end up in the middle of nowhere and I’d have his undivided attention for the whole day to talk.
For all the positive things I can say about my dad, I can honestly say, he was a very difficult man to love. That’s if you were looking for the gushy, you’re so perfect type dad, you didn’t find it in him. He was strict and ruled with an iron fist.
Bull Headed. If he believed something to be a certain way, you needed to see his position and agree. It was just simpler. Don’t confuse his bull-headedness with a hard heart. Dad was sensitive to other people’s feelings and would get very upset if he had an inkling that someone was genuinely hurt by something he said or did.
Debates. We all tried to win one, but it was useless. I still remember having weekly debates with him. We would pick a subject (WWF wrestling’s validity was a popular one for some time). We would debate the subject only utilizing credible research materials (magazines were not allowed, but the New England Journal of Medicine might be). “Only reference materials you would find in a library” he’d say. Back when you used to go to a library and check books out! Seems silly now, but what we did learn from this was to not speak on subjects you know nothing about, be humble enough to admit what you don’t know, and wise enough to shut up and listen to those that could educate you based on fact, not feeling.
Playing cards was a favorite pass time of his. We learned at a young age to play spades, hearts, and tripoly. Many a weekend would fly by as we tried to beat him at “reading” the cards. Hearts was banned forever from the house one fateful night as he got the “Queen” when one of his, then 10, 13,or 14 year old children made a, by his account, stupid move that angered him so much, we never played again. Spades yes, but never again with Hearts. It’s just the way it was.
Any of his kids will remember his, asides. You know what I mean, when it seems like you two just happened to end up away from the group and end up talking about a very personal matter. You knew he had just “taken you aside”. He wanted to talk to you about something heartfelt, sincere, and usually something that he was concerned about and didn’t want to embarrass you in front of others. It could be anything from: I was thinking about your retirement and thought you should start saving for it: to “ I just looked in your refrigerator and I am not sure you have enough to eat..do you?” It might even be (and very rarely) to say how proud he was of you for some accomplishment.
But we loved him for his faults. We all have them. I remember my dad saying, he just wanted to make his dad proud of him. My dad was a good man, he accomplished a lot of things people said he never would. I found myself wanting the same thing from my dad. Compliments were hard to come by, but when you got them…they were genuine. A simple, I’m so proud could put you in a good mood for 6 months.
I know I’ll call him someday to tell him something or “run something by him” and he won’t be there.
“Boy, dad, did I screw up and I’m scared”. And I won’t get that, “OOOh?!”I am dreading that day. In a way, I want to throw my body on the floor and beg for him to be back with me. But, if I know dad, he would just turn his head and say, “Shelley, why would you do that. It’s not going to change anything.”
You see, he taught us how to be independent, self reliant, strong, and logical. But he also taught us how to love quietly….without a big display. But genuine. So I’ll end this by simply saying, I am proud to have had you as a father and I love you, dad.
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