On February 27, 2004 I married Scott Weaver. However, long before Scott and I met, I had a relationship with Max Weaver. One of the first things I learned about my parents’ neighbors was that Max was a BYU professor and artist. I thought it awesome that Max had a groomed, and green, buffalo and rabbit in his side yard. I thought the pots showing from the basement window were wonderful, and that the stepping stones in the front yard were so much more inviting than concrete blocks.
One of my fondest memories of Max has been that of seeing him taking photos of Mt. Timpanogos. I’ve seen Max photographing Timp in snowstorms, rainstorms, at sunsets, and at sunrises. And the more I saw Max looking at Timp the more I began to watch Timp. As I raised my children, often not below this majestic mountain, I tried to instill in them a love for the beauty of our surroundings. Whether we lived in Brigham City; Sheffield, Alabama, or Springville, I would watch for colorfully brilliant sunrises and sunsets, and then holler at my children to come and share in the beauty.
In fact, these sunrises and sunsets were no longer defined by, “Come and see the sky; it’s gorgeous,” but, “Come and see this Max Weaver sunset.” For the past twenty years I have referred to a stunning setting or rising sun as a “Max Weaver” sunrise or sunset. “Oh look, at that Max Weaver sunrise.” “Wow, what a great Max Weaver sunset.” Always giving acknowledgement to the man who taught me, without teaching, to look up and see the beauties of an evening or morning sky.
As Max's daughter-in-law, I understand even more now about his love for Mount Timpanogos. I understand his love for that ever-changing mountain – with the changing of the day or of the season. And when I see the sun’s reflecting light on the mountain, or even on Utah Lake, I don’t collect my children to share this with them, but I will holler at Scott, or call Max and Ruth, to “Come and look at this beautiful Max Weaver sunset.”
Thank you, Max, for being a part of my life for more than 30 years.
Mind you, I have not much of an interpersonal relationship with the family, having come to the family rather late, but this is what I've seen:
Prior to a family event, I had made an appointment for Ruth to get her hair done - it was white, wiry, and basically out of control. Max couldn't understand why - he said, "Look at how her beautiful white hair frames her face, I love her just the way she is." So I canceled the appointment! If Ruth was cold, Max found a blanket, if she was hungry, he fed her, he opened and closed doors for her, pulled out her chair for her, complimented her, built her up. I had very few interactions with Max, he was as devoted to his art as he was Ruth, so there was never time for a conversation, for story-gathering. But he was a passionate man, passionate about life, beauty, God, passionate about his beliefs, whether they were political or religious. He was a man of his word.
I see my father-in-law in Scott (whose middle name is Dickson). Scott is an old-fashioned gentleman. He has always treats me generously, lovingly, graciously, kindly, patiently. Scott is passionate, he is a man of few words, he is an honest man. He is hard-working, and he is relentless in whatever he does, and he loves Southern Utah, just like his dad did.
Max - I hope you and Ruth find time for each other - I hope God says, "Put down that brush Max, and let's have a chat," and that Max will. I hope God asks Max to paint another sunset over Timp, and Max does. I hope Ruth says, "Oh Max," with a twinkle in her eye, and he bends down, lightly touches her hair, lifts her into his arms, and they admire God's work.