Tribute to My Dad

Based on the Life Sketch I delivered at my dad's memorial service in Petaluma, California on April 17, 2011

Nolan Ralph Cordon was born in Driggs, Idaho February 3, 1930 to Audrey Nelson and Edgar Cordon.  He was the fourth of six children.  He died April 6, 2011. 

Let me back up a minute.  Dad's life didn't really begin in 1930, nor did it end in 2011.  Before he was born into mortality, he lived with his Father in Heaven, as did all of us.  It was God's plan for Nolan to come to this earth.  When he departed in 2011, he was taken home to that God who gave him life.  My father is now in a state of peace and happiness, and he rests from all his troubles and from all his care and sorrow. (See Alma 40:11-12 in the Book of Mormon)

Let's return to my father's mortal life...  Born on a potato farm at the start of the Great Depression, he grew up in humble circumstances.  He spent his childhood at the foot of the Great Teton mountains, which he described as being the most beautiful place on earth.

He had a wonderful childhood - riding horses, working on the family farm, and finding ways to get into mischief.  For a few years the family lived above the town drugstore.  One day Nolan and his brother climbed up to the roof of the building, and they brought balloons filled with water.  Can you guess what they were doing up there?  You see, they weren't actually trying to strike anyone with the balloons; they were aiming for the pavement.  They wanted to see how close the balloons could land without hitting anyone.  A police officer brought the boys home.

Dad had a wonderful sense of humor which developed and thrived in Driggs, Idaho with the large Cordon family.

My father learned how to be a hard worker during his childhood.  When he was 13 he dropped out of school one January day.  He informed his father he wasn't going back to school.  Rather than argue with Nolan, my grandfather, Edgar Cordon, told him that since he was going to be home, he could hitch up a team of horses the next morning and open up a hay stack.  It was the middle of winter and bitter cold.  The haystacks were covered with ice so it was necessary to break the ice off the surface first.  The hay underneath was very wet and heavy.  The job took Nolan all day.  The next morning he informed his father that he decided he wanted to go back to school.

Dad attended school in Arizona for a couple of winters.  His family lived in a 10' x 6' homemade trailer in his Uncle Nuel's backyard during the cold season, as the Arizona air seemed to be friendlier to Grandpa's lungs than the cold Idaho air.  He was instructed by his mother never to go into Nuel's home; she said that they had troubled Nuel's family enough by being in their backyard.  Consequently, Dad spent a lot of time outdoors during those Arizona winters.

When Dad was 14 and 15 he spent two summers high up in the Tetons herding sheep.  I believe those were lonely times, but also a great growth experience as Dad learned about personal responsibility.

The next time my father dropped out of school was to join the US Navy in 1947. He was 17 years old.  His high school sweetheart Roberta (and future wife) cried her eyes out because she had no date for the prom that year.  She was mad for a very long time.

Joining the Navy was one of the most important decisions of Dad's life. While Dad was serving in San Diego, California, the Korean war broke out.  His active duty time was extended and he was deployed to the Sea of Japan.  He served as a hospital corpsman on a Navy Destroyer.

Dad didn't talk about his war time much, but there was one story he liked to tell.  During basic training Dad earned the Sharp Shooter distinction, owing to the fact that he had practice shooting squirrels up in the Idaho wilderness.  However, he was prohibited him from using firearms in military conflicts because he was a Medic.  But one day a barrel was found floating in the water close to the ship.  The crew did not know if it was booby-trapped to be a bomb, or just a random barrel.  Dad's commander handed him a rifle and ordered him to shoot the barrel, hoping to explode any bomb before it collided with the ship. So Dad shot, violating the Geneva convention.  He made his mark, but the barrel never did explode.

Dad's experiences in the Navy gave him confidence to pursue a career in medicine.  After honorable discharge, he attended college at Idaho State University in Pocatello, and married his childhood sweetheart, Roberta Larsen in 1953. They were sealed for Eternity by sacred Priesthood Power in the LDS Idaho Falls Temple.

During the summers Dad helped to build the Teton Dam.

Dad attended medical school at the University of Oregon in Portland.  During this period Shelly was born in 1959 - her parents had hoped, prayed and waited seven years for her.  Two sons, Scot and Derek joined the family while Dad was completing his residency in San Bernardino in Southern California in 1963-1964.  After residency the family settled in Petaluma, California, and Megan (me) was adopted in 1966.

Nolan, my dad, was one of the last general practitioner Country Doctors.  He treated sore throats and gout, delivered babies, removed tonsils and appendix, repaired hernias and even made house calls.

While practicing general medicine for about 15 years, Dad experienced frustration that he couldn't help everybody.  He was a sensitive man who felt for people's suffering.  His own father had been ill for all of Nolan's life, having contracted tuberculosis in World War I.  At the end of his life, conventional medicine could do very little for Edgar.  In the late 1970's Dad became interested in alternative medicine as a way to relieve people's suffering.  He attended acupuncture school in San Francisco at the American College of Traditional Chinese Medicine, and also became a pupil of Dr. Paul Nogier, an ear acupuncturist in France.  Dad quit his general medicine practice and became one of the first medical acupuncturists in the United States.  He was the very first auricular (ear) acupuncturist in the US, and introduced the discipline to many North American healers as he traveled and lectured all over the United States and Canada.  He was a pioneer in the field.

My father taught me to think outside of the box.  For example, he grew Vitamin C crystals in his office, which he attached to the end of bent glass rods (we called them "wands.")  Whenever I had any sort of physical complaint, he would pull a Crystal wand out of his front shirt pocket and grab my wrist to feel my pulse.  He'd wave the wand around to diagnose, check for changes in my pulse and treat the problem by directing energy from the crystals.  Sometimes he would also use colored slides to "tune up" my Aura (personal energy field).

My father taught me to challenge conventional thinking.  He challenged theories of allopathic medicine.  He challenged official versions of history.  He liked to discuss politics and was quite the conservative.  He always did it in a nice way however, and had more tact than I'll ever possess.  But Dad never challenged things he considered to be matters of faith or God.  I never heard him express one word of doubt regarding any Gospel teachings.

During Dad's time as a doctor, and later as a Bishop and Stake President for the LDS church, he took a lot of phone calls.  This was before the era of text messages or even pagers.  Patients would call Dad at home.  Church members would call him at home.  Sometimes with the church members, the calls were both about church business and some physical complaint.  Dad listened and helped as best he could.

During the last few years of his life, Dad turned his healing intentions to me, as I was swimming through a difficult period.  He would always ask "How are you doing?" "How are those wonderful kids of yours?"  He was always encouraging "You're a good mother... I don't know how you do it all." "You're wonderful." "I'm proud of you."

People looked to Dad as a spiritual and medical advisor.  He had dark periods in his own life when he felt very blue.  Most people were unaware of the extent Dad suffered from depression.  But no matter what was happening internally, my father made time for people.  He listened, told jokes and was very patient.  His kind and gentle nature endeared himself to many over the years.  His blue eyes would often twinkle, and he had a sincere smile.  He found amusement and laughter in simple things.  Children and teenagers related well to him.

There was a period of about a year that a disabled young man phoned my father daily just to talk.  He would phone at dinnertime, right after Dad got home from work.  He called Dad daily, and Dad talked to him daily, always patient and loving.

After retirement, my parents served a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 2002-2003.  Nolan was the medical advisor for 13 mission on the Eastern seaboard of the US.  He took calls from missionaries all day long.  I was able to witness this first hand, as I visited him in Connecticut a couple of times.  The last visit was to help my parents pack when they departed the mission.  Missionaries were still calling him up until the day he left, and Dad was patient and kind to them, naturally.

My mother, Roberta passed away in January of 2004 after an extended illness (she was in the hospital for four months directly after returning from Connecticut).  Dad was devastated.  He spent one long, lonely year -- the longest in his life.  Then, he hooked up with Peggy King Roberts, and she saved his life!  I am only sorry that Peggy wasn't involved in our lives earlier.  Nolan and Peggy had five years together and we couldn't ask for a more loving stepmother and grandmother.

Dad's heroes were his father Edgar Cordon and his Uncle Nuel.  Dad would say, "Uncle Nuel was the kindest man I ever knew... Except for my father; he was the kindest man I ever knew."  Uncle Nuel was a barber, and Edgar often couldn't work because of his illness.  These two men, Edgar and Nuel, had little in terms of the material possessions, status or education; yet my father looked up to them because he valued one attribute above all others - KINDNESS.

Once Dad died, I realized that he, Nolan Ralph Cordon, was the kindest person I ever knew.  Now that he is gone, it is up to all of us to become the kindest person that someone knows.

American Legion Honor Guard.  Dad was buried in Driggs, Idaho along side of
my mother, Roberta Cordon on April 13th.