Although he has lived in various places in the Alaskan Frontier, he still calls Nephi, Utah, his hometown. He and his siblings have always thought the small rural town of Nephi was the best place to have grown up in and we have saved a building spot for him, and a burial plot for him. As kids we were not supposed to talk of the word "dead" or Cancer, but only call it the C word, and that was pretty radical in the Nephi Jones Kin who arrived here by horse; handcarts and wagons. Our ancestors were pretty dam tough......oh sorry, I was supposed to spell it out so D A M tough. Of the five kids of Alma C. and LaVon Harris Jones, Gary, at an early age was self taught to be tough and could survive just fine sleeping with all of his animal friends in the barn, or racing with his Mutts in the Iditarod of the 1,000 miles across the frozen tundra. And after running with and feeding each of the dogs with placed food along the trail, he would then take a relaxation trek climbing one of the tall mountains in Alaska. And he was mentally fit more than the rest of us, aceing high school; then both BYU and USU. He had a strong voice, and could be heard throughout any concert hall, and still has that varoom to it. Although Gary has always been one of God's children that would always greet any kid or adult and and greet them if they were best friends. But in reality, the forest and the animals and plant life of the mystic of Alaska put him at ease. Although we all want to see him come to Nephi again, the city has outgrown itself too much, and he would not find solace here, but we long for a visit. I have traveled to Alaska to visit Gary B. and although I am not a friend of dogs, I found it relaxing to take care of his kennel while he raced. But living up their yonder is fit only for the bravest of all, as the 20 and 30 below zero never seemed fun for me. And the first time I visited, the flight was long with a plane change somewhere along the way. When I arrived, I told him I was starved and I would buy him a steak dinner. He said he would treat me to a great meal, but kept passing all the diners. He then pulled off the road under some trees. I tried to convince him that eating me wouldn't be his cup of tea, although when he was an Army Ranger during the Viet Nam Era, he was trained to live off the land, and grasshoppers and Beetles didn't taste that good to me. He then scared the Bejeebies out of me when he pulled a shotgun out of the trunk, and yup, he took down some Ptarmigans out of the tree tops, and they were better tasting than Ringneck Pheasant's, or the Pine Hens of Juab County. When I last spoke to Gary B., I told him that their are no "Bish Belliston" in Nephi anymore, and that all drivers have gone Whackos driving like the "Herd Instinct" of Dead Horse Point near Moab and told him a couple years ago I was nearly a victim of "locus en quo" speeders by Doc Steele's trying to kill me. Your sister told me it just may help to take down the sign off the back of my old Mazda truck which reads " ITS A HEMI"! I am not sure you can read it, but will try to put a letter of many years ago that Mom sent to you just before her transition. Happy Birthday on July 23 and here is one of your greatest books of all, if folks want to write you a letter and buy one, then you won't have to find that ass again and hitchhike back home. You did that once on a Tote Gote, so try an airplane this time!
