Elon Reford Griffin

Elon Redford Griffin 94 passed away at home, August 1, 2013 Nibley – Elon was born in Richmond, Utah on June 22, 1919 to Ute Elon & Millie Redford Griffin. He was a member of the LDS Church & served in many callings. He lettered in basketball & football at Logan High & was President of the boys Athletic Club. He attended USU before going to Los Angeles. There he met & was sealed in the Salt Lake Temple March 14, 1942 to his wife, Hester McMurray. Elon served in the Army Air Corps during World War II. He has 7 Children, 15 Grandchildren, and 28 Great Grandchildren. He was an avid fisherman, loved music & sports. Elon was proceeded in death by his Parents, 7 siblings, and one Son, Dennis McMurray Griffin. He is survived by his Wife, Hester, 3 Sons & 3 Daughters, Elon (Lon) McMurray Griffin, Susan, Bradley Spencer Griffin, Lance Spencer Griffin, Hilary Spencer Griffin, Cynthia McMurray Kenney & Kathryn McMurray Kenny. Elon’s Request: no viewing & no Funeral. He will be buried with his Wife in the Millville Cemetery at the time of her death. Condolences may be extended to the family online by visiting www.serenicarefuneralhome.com Newspaper Article in the “Herald Journal” Cache memories: Close encounters of the boyhood kind Thursday, July 18, 2013 8:54 am By Elon ‘Lon’ Griffin These sagas qualify to be told prior to my exit from this elongated life (94) and cover the period from Scouting years to young adulthood. The primary players were friends, neighbors, classmates and later, after a major geographic move, housemates in Los Angeles. Early on (Scout-Explorer arena) my close friend and neighbor, Wayne, lived just around the northeast corner. However, our lean properties were adjacent. Wayne was the eldest of five children and his dad was to become principal of the Logan High School. When Wayne and I attended Logan High (1936-37), Wayne was one year my senior. His father was an efficient, no nonsense fellow, but a fair person. During the deer hunt he furnished Wayne and me with two 30.06 rifles from the school ROTC program. Two shots, no meat and Bear Lake in view. Now to resume an earlier stage in our lives — the “Scout- Explorer” period. The extreme south end of the neighbors’ lot contained their large chicken enclosure. I recall, regrettably, that late one day Wayne and I entered the “hen house” with small hunting knives looking for action. Above the roosting chickens was a row of pigeons ready for sleep. At this point the devil took control and from about 10 feet distance we practiced our knife-throwing skills and eliminated several birds by the “blade.” At this point in time I doubt that we were Scouts yet. Therefore we exhibited little conscience. On another occasion, same location and same period, Wayne’s older neighbor, a young man named Tillman, was on Wayne’s property — don’t recall why. Wayne had a BB gun and threatened to shoot Tillman, which he did from maybe 35 feet away; the dust radiated from Till’s pants. Till went after Wayne but never caught him. I was an interested observer from my backyard, behind a fence. Let’s accelerate a few years to approximately 1935 when we were expected to be “kinder and smarter.” Wayne’s family had purchased a new 1936 Plymouth, and on this particular Saturday Wayne was permitted to borrow the car. He decided on a ride to Howell (Blue Creek) for an inspection of the bass fishing in the Howell Reservoir. The road of this location was slightly downhill into Howell, therefore I was shocked when Wayne indicated he was curious as to how fast the Plymouth would go. This was one occasion when my curiosity did not coincide with his. When the speedometer indicated 75 mph, I became a little nervous and suggested a “back-off.” However, Wayne was determined to see 100 on the speedometer. The road was still clear and downgrade. As the speed indicator increased, so did my heartbeat. As the speed approached 100, all hell broke loose with a slam, bang, clatter, and the car started weaving and tipping. How he managed to keep the car under control considering the broken drive train, flat tire, etc. was miraculous and semi-professional. While I recall little of the resulting aftermath of the negative experience, I didn’t see my friend for days. Not long after the auto episode in Howell, repainted and regenerated, trust had been restored in the family hierarchy. Wayne was again operating the repaired and repainted car — lesson learned. What? It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon. Wayne’s father had, I am guessing, reluctantly entrusted his son with the “like new” car. Wayne chose Logan Canyon for an enjoyable, picturesque drive. When we arrived at the “Dugway,” Wayne stopped the car. I could read his decision-making hesitation to continue up the new road (three years since completion) or satisfy his curiosity and chance the old longer “follow the river” road. At this point I attempted to dissuade Wayne from his choice of the old road and reminded him of the 100 mph disaster, but to no avail! By the time we emerged at the juncture of the new and old roads, the condition of the car was devastating to behold — not mechanically but externally: paint, dents, glass, etc. Well, it was a long ride home, especially for my friend Wayne. He did survive, however. Approximately three years later we were housemates in Los Angeles, but that’s another story. Pertaining to the old Dugway road, my older brother Clark was returning on that road with a long trailer loaded with trees for firewood. Somehow, while avoiding trees, he tipped both car and trailer into the river. Very little of the two were salvageable. “Good-bye” ancient Studebaker; “hello” new (used) car. ——————————————

Elon Reford Griffin

June 22, 1919 - August 1, 2013