David Clarence Foulger

1953 - 2009

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David Clarence Foulger

1953 - 2009
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Grave site information of David Clarence Foulger (1953 - 2009) at Alton Cemetery in Kanab, Kane, Utah, United States from BillionGraves
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Life Information

David Clarence Foulger


Alton Cemetery

Unnamed Rd
Kanab, Kane, Utah
United States


October 3, 2021

Makenna Johanson

October 2, 2021

Larry Bulloch

September 18, 2021

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Grave Site of David Clarence


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Memories of David given by big brother Allen at memorial service

Contributor: Makenna Johanson Created: 2 months ago Updated: 2 months ago

My first memory of my brother David is still very vivid in my mind. It amazes me that after all these years I still remember it so well since I was less than two years old. It was the day my father brought my mother home from the hospital with my new baby brother. Dad had me sitting on a blanket in our backyard, Mom in a rocking chair to the side, and David was placed in my lap. I tried to hold him up as best as a two year old could and Dad took our picture. I had been an only child up to that point. Who was this new little person? I soon learned David was a little boy, just like me. He needed to be cared for and watched over. He laughed and cried, just like I did. And he was fun to play with. But he was also different from me, his own person with his own personality. And I was his older brother. I knew I needed to watch over and protect him and be a good example. And thus began my journey with David, holding him, locking my hand in his, caring for him, and just being with him. I suppose our childhood was like that of many others during that time. We played, we quarreled, we giggled at the silliest things, we explored, chased down our curiosities, and we enjoyed being outside. We also participated in the odd behavior of sibling rivalry. I usually had an upper hand on David since I was older, bigger, and stronger. We spent hours in the backyard playing army. The old cherry tree in the back yard was our fort and hide out. If we were in the house, tables and chairs with blankets over them made a good fort. We would shoot rubber bands at each other and throw fake grenades. He was my best friend. We both had a penchant for mischief but David seemed to get caught more. We figured out how to climb up the kitchen drawers like a ladder and walk across the counter to the fridge to sneak cookies from the metal bin safely stored on top. We thought we were pretty clever. David didn’t seem to be as aware of consequences as I was. He was willing to try things I had not yet thought of. David was just learning to write his name when he decided it would look best carved into one of the legs of the dining room table. Of course when Dad discovered it, he got a spanking and sent to his room. I was jealous though. I wanted to use a knife and carve letters on something too. A few days later I couldn’t resist any longer. So I did just what David did. I found a nice spot on one of the other legs of the dining room table, and carved David’s name on it. I thought this was great fun until David got another spanking and was sent to his room. He cried but I felt bad for what I had done to him. I don’t remember ever again making David take a hit for something I had done. We went through childhood diseases together; mumps, measles, chicken pox and croup. Once again I became aware of my strong feelings for David’s well being. He came down with scarlet fever. It was highly contagious and I was told I couldn’t be with him for a couple of weeks. He was isolated in the upstairs part of the house where grandma cared for him. But I could talk to him when he came to the stairs and make sure he was okay. By the time I was eight or nine something terrible happened to me. My little brother was growing faster than I was and passed me in height. We went for a family picture. My dad arranged for me to stand on a box so I would appear taller and preserve my fragile ego. I soon had to give up on being the big brother and settle on being the older brother. My only salvation physically was I could still beat him in an arm wrestle. I also found that David was developing his own personality and talents. David gathered friends. All his friends liked him because he was so much fun to have along. But David was also a sharing person and would include me in his activities and games. We played tag and hide and seek. We also had plenty of fun together and with our family. Our family kept growing with new sisters coming along. Each one brought a new dimension to the family. Our games of tag and hide and seek drew bigger crowds. Other times we played just as a family, playing fox and geese on trails we made in the new fallen snow or pushing each other around in our big red wagon up and down the lanes we had made on our long driveway and sidewalks, imitating the speedway at Lagoon. We played lots of board games. And we took incredible trips together, camping, hiking, learning to shoot Grandpa’s old rifle, and eventually traveling to nearly every state in the country and several provinces in Canada. We walked to elementary school together nearly every day. Yes, on sunny days, and in rain, and snow, up hill, both ways, with holes in our shoes. We made a game of it as other friends joined in, not stepping on cracks to avoid breaking our mother’s back, and smacking each other in the arm when we found a copper slug imbedded in the sidewalk. We became more daring as we got older. Our parents would let us go play at the park up the hill from our house on the avenues of Salt Lake. We spent hours and hours up there, exploring little trails, playing on the swings and teeter totters, spinning around until we were so dizzy we could no longer stand up. Sometimes we would take our wagon but were never allowed to ride it on the streets. Wouldn’t it be fun to ride it all the way back? But we had to stop at the end of each block and walk across the street. Then it occurred to us to take it next door to the city cemetery. David and I wandered over to the highest, steepest street and looked down the long road from 11th Avenue to 4th. Could we do it? What if we crashed? Would we get caught? Not if we went fast enough. With trepidation I jumped in and locked my shoes between the wheels. David jumped on in back. And off we went, screaming and laughing until we got going so fast we knew we couldn’t stop. I was in control, fear definitely on my face. David was holding on for dear life, trusting in me, and holding his breath. If we crashed we would get scraped up, maybe break some bones. If that didn’t kill us, then our dad surely would. What had we done? We careened down the road, watching the headstones fly by, praying a car wouldn’t cross in front of us and wondering what we would do when we hit 4th Avenue. We were going to die. But as we got closer and closer, the road became less steep and our speed slowed to where we could drag our feet and finally come to a stop. Our lives were spared. I looked at David in silence for a quick moment as he began to breath and I could tell what he was thinking: Let’s go do it again!!! And we did, three more times. Our skills would come into play in the very near future. David had a lot of friends but the one we had the most fun with at that time was Frankie. His father repaired televisions and radios, the old tube type before transistors. We fooled around shocking each other with his old hand cranked generator, learned that it isn’t easy to blow off a shotgun shell by dropping bricks on it from the second story window, and also learned that if you try to hide in a tree and throw eggs at passing cars, you are going to get caught. And again, I learned how strong my bond was with David when he slipped from the huge rope swing attached to a high tree branch in his backyard. He landed on his back and didn’t move. I thought he had hit the large rock right next to him. It made me sick realizing how hurt he might be. But as his luck always seemed to have it, it just knocked the wind out of him. As time went on, little kids got bigger. We played hours and hours of touch football, rode bikes everywhere, and went on hikes. Our summers were filled with dreams of going to Lagoon and how we would spend our dollar fifty worth of tickets. As we got older, we would deliver newspapers together. We had nearly 300 hundred papers to get out each morning. Our parents had gone out of town for a week. We hooked up the old red wagon to the back of my bicycle. David jumped on the bar and we rattled off down our bumpy road and down the middle of South Temple toward the big apartments between State Street and A Street. It was five o’clock in the morning. I’m sure the neighbors were thrilled. We parked our bike, loaded up our wagon and quickly made our way down South Temple around the corner and up the 1st avenue hill. An hour and a half latter we finished at the top of 1st Avenue and A Street holding onto our wagon and staring down what is undoubtedly the steepest road in the avenues. Hmmmmm, we thought. What if we rode the wagon down? But there was no way to stop. We would fly across South Temple and kill ourselves when we crashed on the front lawn of the Larkin mortuary. That would be appropriate. They wouldn’t have to take us far. I looked at David and we knew what we were going to do. We tossed caution aside, jumped in the wagon and held on for dear life. And we did it every day until our parents got home. High school came. By now David was surrounded with friends from all over. He began to preen in front of the mirror. One day Grandma caught him in front of the mirror and he called out to her, ”I can’t wait for tomorrow.” When she asked him why he replied, “because everyday I get better looking.” “Oh you little poop,” she said. Well, that’s not exactly what she said. But anyone who knew our grandma knows what she said. He excelled in sports, playing football in high school and later at the University of Utah. We would still arm wrestle but it was increasingly difficult for me to hold me own. Sometimes I think he would let me win, sometimes it would end in a draw. He took up skiing and told me how exciting it was. Soon he taught me how to ski too. David, ever the adventurer would take me to the highest and steepest hills. He was seemingly unafraid. He just seemed to love life and everything it brought. He seemed to always be happy and enthusiastic. I learned to see some things the way he did and learned from his enthusiasm. I learned about the wonders of life one could enjoy if you were willing to put yourself out there and live in the moment. He always seemed to enjoy what he was doing. He was kind and loving, avoided speaking ill of others and held no malice. Our paths didn’t cross as much at this period of time. He had his interests and I had mine. I eventually went on a mission to South America. Just before I got home David left for England on his. We were as far apart as we could be. He loved the experience. David spoke often of how much he admired President and Sister Madsen. He even shared some of your jokes with me. I still remember one of them. We shared it again just a couple of weeks ago. After four long years I saw David again as he returned from England; Tall, handsome, strong, and with a smile from ear to ear. We shared an apartment together and worked together for a short time. But there was always one lingering doubt in my mind. Who was the strongest? And the perfect moment to find out presented itself. Both David and I found ourselves at the house we grew up on around dinner time one evening. Dad was just sitting down to a late dinner at the head of the long kitchen table. David was sitting on one side him and I was on the other. Other family members were standing around. Who’s the strongest, brother? I asked. And the competition was on. Dad sat there un-amused, slowly eating his dinner. David and I locked hands and battled back and forth for over a minute, neither willing to give up. And then it happened, as though it were in slow motion. A large cracking sound, the table broke in two, right down the middle, Dad calmly grabbed his plate and glass. The rest of the things on the table slid toward the center and the down to the floor. Dad, seemingly unperturbed but with that ‘I knew this would happen’ look on his face, slowly walked into the dining room to finish his dinner, and David and I stared at each other in disbelief. Then we all rolled with laughter. Over then next several years, we saw each other here and there depending on where David was living. Although our time together was less and less, when we did see each other at family-get-togethers, it was always the same. We would make eye contact and his face would light up. I knew he valued me as his older brother. He would sit next to me if he could, smile that big smile of his, and put his arm around my shoulder. Sometimes we didn’t say much. We would just be together. He always told me he loved me when we parted company or finished a phone conversation. David always talked about how much he loved Alton. He talked with pride of the different construction jobs he had worked on. He taught me why it was important to build things the right way. David was by no means perfect. He was a dreamer. He had lofty ideas. But he was also very aware of his faults and failings and his weaknesses. His intentions were always good, but things didn’t always turn out the way he saw it in his mind. When I saw David around Thanksgiving time, I knew our journey together was coming to end. His tall strong figure was succumbing to disease. He had lost a lot of weight. But he hadn’t lost his pleasant nature, his smile, or his sense of humor. Just a couple of weeks ago the call came that I was anticipating. My wife and I had the bitter sweet opportunity to come to Alton, see this valley he loved so much, and help out. When I walked into his house, there he was, with a welcoming smile on his face. The next few days were filled with reconnecting and sharing the bond that had been forged over 50 years earlier. And once again I was able to sit with him, watch over him, care for him and protect him. We had precious conversation as he was able, shared our love, and enjoyed the thinness of the veil that separates this life from what lies beyond. We laughed, and cried, and shared the memories. He tried to arm wrestle me one last time but now, as it was in the beginning, we had come full circle and I had the advantage. It ended just the same is it did 30 years ago on the kitchen table: in a draw. After a long nap David looked at me for a moment. Do you know who I am I asked? A smile came to his tired face and he said, “You’re my brother.” He dozed off again, then sighed. “I’m done now. I’m dying. Thanks for all you’ve done for me. I love you. I’ll see you later.” I locked my hand in his, told him I would miss him but that it was okay for him to go, and pondered the moment. My journey with David ended the same way it had begun, with me holding him, watching over him, telling him everything would be all right, and just being together. Just as our father had done before him, David made dying as easy as possible on those around him. He didn’t complain, he didn’t curse God, he maintained his sense of humor, and his sense of gratitude. I will miss his smile, his cheerfulness, his kindness, his sense of adventure, his willingness to try new things. I will miss his arm around my shoulder. It was obvious David loved life. He loved is wife and all of his children. He loved his grandchildren and his friends. He loved his church. He loved building houses. His joy was in his journey. He had learned to love the journey, not the destination. We would be remiss as a family if we didn’t express our appreciation to all those who have helped in so many ways to serve and care for David through this difficult time. We are grateful for your goodness. As my wife and I visited with David we became aware of many of the acts of kindness that have been shown him. I am sure there are many more. The task of caring for him was monumental over these last few months. May God bless each one of you for your goodness. May He especially bless you, Debbie, as you face the road ahead, for your countless hours of untiring care and comfort. Thank you for loving our brother. May He watch over his children, Stephanie and Porter, and Jared, Carmela, Hannah, and Hank, as you mourn the loss of your father. May He keep the pleasant memories alive in his grandchildren. May God comfort our mother who has lost one of her children. May God be with my sisters who will miss the brother we grew up with. We are grateful for the support of so many family members, some of whom have travelled a great distance to be here. I’ll see you in the morning When we rise and shine When the light of heaven’s Son Wakes up our eyes We’ll take up again at dawning As if there never was a night You’ll be seeing me, and I’ll be seeing you in the morning. May God bless us all.

Life timeline of David Clarence Foulger

David Clarence Foulger was born in 1953
David Clarence Foulger was 11 years old when The Beatles make their first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, performing before a "record-busting" audience of 73 million viewers across the USA. The Beatles were an English rock band formed in Liverpool in 1960. With members John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr, they became widely regarded as the foremost and most influential music band in history. Rooted in skiffle, beat and 1950s rock and roll, the Beatles later experimented with several musical styles, ranging from pop ballads and Indian music to psychedelia and hard rock, often incorporating classical elements and unconventional recording techniques in innovative ways. In 1963, their enormous popularity first emerged as "Beatlemania"; as the group's music grew in sophistication, led by primary songwriters Lennon and McCartney, the band were integral to pop music's evolution into an art form and to the development of the counterculture of the 1960s.
David Clarence Foulger was 19 years old when Munich massacre: Nine Israeli athletes die (along with a German policeman) at the hands of the Palestinian "Black September" terrorist group after being taken hostage at the Munich Olympic Games. Two other Israeli athletes were slain in the initial attack the previous day. The Munich massacre was an attack during the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich, West Germany, in which the Palestinian terrorist group Black September took eleven Israeli Olympic team members hostage and killed them along with a West German police officer.
David Clarence Foulger was 36 years old when The tanker Exxon Valdez spilled 10.8 million US gallons (260,000 bbl; 41,000 m3) of oil into Prince William Sound, Alaska, causing one of the most devastating man-made maritime environmental disasters. A tanker is a ship designed to transport or store liquids or gases in bulk. Major types of tankship include the oil tanker, the chemical tanker, and gas carrier. Tankers also carry commodities such as vegetable oils, molasses and wine. In the United States Navy and Military Sealift Command, a tanker used to refuel other ships is called an oiler but many other navies use the terms tanker and replenishment tanker.
David Clarence Foulger was 38 years old when The World Wide Web is opened to the public. The World Wide Web (WWW), also called the Web, is an information space where documents and other web resources are identified by Uniform Resource Locators (URLs), interlinked by hypertext links, and accessible via the Internet. English scientist Tim Berners-Lee invented the World Wide Web in 1989. He wrote the first web browser in 1990 while employed at CERN in Switzerland. The browser was released outside CERN in 1991, first to other research institutions starting in January 1991 and to the general public on the Internet in August 1991.
David Clarence Foulger died in 2009 at the age of 56
Grave record for David Clarence Foulger (1953 - 2009), BillionGraves Record 45789162 Kanab, Kane, Utah, United States