Buenos Dias. I’m Jenny, daughter number 3. I have the privilege of sharing a compilation of memories from my siblings and me. I’ll start with the wisest and work my way to the youngest. I will be reading their words.

Adrienne: 

When I was about 6 years old, Dad had a big plan to teach me and another little boy Spanish. He took us to the university and sat us down in his big college classroom and tried to teach us Spanish by writing Spanish words on the blackboard and then having us repeat them.  The little boy and I just giggled the whole time. Dad never took us there for another lesson 🙂

Even though we grew up in Bountiful which was such a lovely but very sheltered and homogenous place. Dad (and Mom) always made sure that we knew there was a big world out there full of all shapes, sizes, colors, cultures, and religions of people who were absolutely as valuable as us. We were never taught we were better than anyone else because of what we looked liked, what we believed, or what country we happened to be born in. Dad taught us that a big part of learning to love others is done by trying to see the world through the eyes of those different from us- to realize that we are all shaped by different life experiences and one experience does not make someone better than someone else. Luckier maybe? But definitely not better. He loved people. He spoke up for those who needed a voice. He served those who needed a hand, and even though he was sometimes treated badly because of his Mexican heritage-I never once heard him speak in anger about it–or even speak about it at all. He always treated others with kindness, love, and grace. He was a peacemaker and a love giver in a world that desperately needs more of both. I miss you, Dad, with all of my broken heart.

Liz:

When I think about my dad, one of the things that stands out most is his deep love for the gospel and for our Savior, Jesus Christ. Because of that faith, he taught me the importance of serving others. I remember him helping build a ward building in Wisconsin, and working on the church farms. But more than those experiences, I remember the countless ways he served church members, friends, family, and even strangers throughout his life. He showed by example that we should love everyone, no matter who they are or where they come from. One thing that always amazed me was how Dad seemed to know someone everywhere we went. It became almost a family joke. On a trip to Yellowstone, he ran into an acquaintance. Then years later, while traveling in Europe and simply passing through on a layover, he somehow ran into someone he knew there too. It seemed impossible, but that's just who he was. Dad had a gift for connecting with people. He made others feel seen, valued, and important. Because of his kindness, his genuine interest in others, and the way he lived his faith, he left a lasting impression on everyone he met. I am grateful for his example, for the lessons he taught me about faith, service, and love, and for the legacy he leaves behind. He will be deeply missed, but his influence will live on in all the lives he touched.

Jenny:

My dad was a force for good in our world! The Chicano/a Scholarship and the ethnic studies programs at the University of Utah are two of his contributions. But that is only the beginning. The way he held our babies and snuck them their first ice cream was gentle and naughty. His leadership and yet staying in the background was his way. His high expectations for students at the U was commendable. I got a B in his class. He was a tough grader! 

His introduction to Teatro Campesino when I was a child was intentional. Teatro Campesino was born in 1965 as a peaceful guerrilla theater company telling the stories of the Mexican American farmers' experiences and later about the farm workers strikes in California. He wanted us to know the injustice in the world without going on about it…just know it and then to do what we could to help those in need. It has had a huge impact on how I live in this world, in my profession and in my community work. 

Many of you here are familiar with the following memory since I have shared so many times what I heard HIM share so many times. When my dad was a teenager, he, his brother and cousins would work in the railroad with my grandfather in the summer. And as they sweated and did that grueling work my grandfather would walk up and down the railroad and say to each of them, “Do you want to do this for the rest of your life? If you don’t want to do this, GET AN EDUCATION. And so they did.

AND SO DID WE. As an illustration of his impact related to education, here are a few comments from some of his former students in response to learning of his passing:

From Bernice Miera

Your Dad was a powerful, yet gentle influence on so many of us. Especially those of us who were first generation students at the U. of U. 

He was so much more than a mentor, he was one of the kindest & most compassionate persons I have ever known. He changed lives. I was introduced to “Teatro” at the U as a result of his sponsorship of their performance, a treasured memory. 

What a blessing for you have been his child, & what heartbreak for you to now say goodbye. His memories will live in my heart & his legacy will be a part of our communities history. 

From Juan Mejia

He was an exceptional person, loved and admired by all of us who knew him. He was a most positive inspiration and support to me and all of those who had the fortune to have had him in our lives. I thank you for your remembrance of getting a B from him. He always challenged us to strive to better!

From María Garciaz

Ed was truly a remarkable man whose passion for education, social justice, and our Chicano community made a lasting difference in so many lives. His contributions helped open doors and create opportunities for generations to come. Such an important mentor to me!

What touches me most about your beautiful tribute is the Ed you knew and loved as a father—the gentle, loving man behind the strong leader. We have lost another of our community's treasured pioneers, but his spirit and legacy will remain with us. 

It’s been a hard few weeks…months for our family but here we are and he is at peace and we love him terribly. My dad was the center of gravity for the Mayer family and we are all floating a bit right now but he is already nudging us closer, we will recenter ourselves again. Salud!! to Eddie Mayer by dad and hero.

Katie:

Being born in a pile of siblings can give you a Jan Brady complex especially if you are the tail end of 4 girls. Dad wanted a son, badly. After my baby blessing Dad held me up and declared me Katherine the Last. Sure enough my brothers followed and the family was complete. 

Even with six kids, teaching, time consuming church callings and a large extended family Dad found ways to connect with us individually. That sometimes meant we were taken along to the stake farm or to help rake leaves for a neighbor. Going alone with Dad to a football game at the U in the 70s and 80s when it seemed we lost every game was still so fun. Dad would bring a thermos of Mexican hot chocolate and a blanket. I don’t remember which teams played or a final score but if I close my eyes I am sitting next to him with a warm paper cup in my hands. 

In junior high I ran for a class office. On Election Day winners were announced after school at a dance in the gym. I used the pay phone to call home with the news that I would in fact NOT be a class officer. I stayed at the dance a bit longer but it wasn’t fun so I walked home alone in probably a very dramatic fashion. I went to my room to lick my wounds and on my dresser was a small vase of roses with a card that said, “From a secret admirer” written in Dad’s unmistakable hand. I went to his office to hug him and he pretended to be annoyed and like he had no idea who this secret admirer might be. 

Dad was always aloof in his affection. When he would leave for work in the morning he would walk around the table so we could give him a kiss on the cheek and the rest of breakfast would taste like Jockey Club cologne. 

When I had my graduation/ study abroad trip I had saved $120 for spending money. Even in 1989 $120 wasn’t a lot for a 6 week trip in Europe. In Austria we were at the Geiger sweater store and a bunch of the students were trying on beautiful expensive sweaters. I was trying, without success, to find something for less than $5. Dad handed me a sweater saying, “see if this fits.” Then without another word he walked up to the register and paid. That is how I got a beautiful expensive sweater in Austria. He showed his love through actions not so much words. We all have similar stories of generous gifts, special outings and rescue.  I will always envy my sisters because they got more time with Dad than I did but he won’t ever really be gone. He will be at every  Sunday dinner. When one of us sweeps the dust and dirt from the cabin floor or helps a neighbor rake their leaves Dad will be right alongside us with a broom or a rake. Te echo de menos mi querido papa y te quiero para siempre.

John: 

Our family’s deep connection with the University of Utah has become almost genetic, but was born of decades of just spending time at the place. For me it started young, when, on occasion, dad took Paul and me to campus with him to hang out in his office in Orson Spencer Hall, or OSH as we all knew it. Shortly after arriving, his patience would expire and he’d send us out to run amok on campus while he worked. Paul and I would usually end up playing on the fountain west of Orson Spencer Hall. Today we would be a maintenance and liability nightmare for the school, but then it was the 70s and 80s. On our way home came our stop at the Wonder Bread Outlet to buy a shopping cart full of Home Pride wheat bread and a rare treat, a Hostess Fruit pie. Sadly, OSH and the Wonder Bread outlet are all gone in the name of progress. 

Mayers are Utah fans, the true die-hards of the 80s and among the very few Utah fans in Bountiful during a time when the beatings on the football field were the rule, not the exception. But later years brought the highs of the 1990s Runnin’ Utes, the Fiesta Bowl, and years of dominance over BYU. Dad attended Utah football games almost religiously until just last year when he finally surrendered to Rice-Eccles’ stairs. 

It’s hard to talk about dad without hitting on one of the themes common to all of our experiences growing up: service. I loved the summer Sunday afternoon walks with dad when we’d visit neighbors, including each of the widows in the ward to check in and determine when my brother and I would be returning to mow the lawn or weed the garden. That lesson of service was imprinted on my soul and drives much of how I live my life. Dad, I love you and thank you for the many lessons and the life worth celebrating and admiring. 

Paul:

I have thought a lot about my relationship with my dad over the last several weeks and I know that I was born of goodly parents who loved their children and sacrificed many things for them.

Being the youngest of 6 and a son of Harry Burrito meant a great deal to me from a young age. There was always someone visiting, an event or activity going on in the house that made our family feel alive and vibrant. When you are a child watching your family interact with others you learn much about people and what is important in life. Family is the most important, and I saw that relationships were the basis for faith, hope and peace. My dad was loved by many and had lots of friends. His close relationships often meant we would be left wondering when we might finally leave someone's house after what seemed like hours while he and a friend took long walks down memory lane.

Being Ed's son also meant being there for family and neighbors who needed a hand or just an ear. Summer Saturdays were designated as yard work days both at home, at Grandma's house and later at aunt Maria's. I can still smell the fresh cut grass and the smell of lightly burned tortillas that my Grandma was making in the kitchen. It was not just family that my dad cared for, but we as kids were often conscripted to help at various projects throughout the neighborhood when there was someone physically or emotionally in need. It was a wonderful time of growth and learning for me.

I believe these lessons in love and service became part of the bedrock that made us kids who we would become today.

I especially remember one Saturday morning when I was about 8 years old when my dad coerced me into going with him to clear the yard of Brother Bussey. I was dragging my feet but eventually relented and we walked down the street on a beautiful spring Saturday morning. The sun was shining bright causing the dew to sparkle on the grass and plants and hope was palpable in the air. Many members of our ward were at this home and we mowed, pulled, chopped, bagged and hauled all morning until the yard was tamed and generally pleasant to look at. I left that house feeling like a million bucks with the spirit of Christ firmly in my soul. It was an unforgettable experience and I have tried, with varying success in my life, to follow that spirit.

I love you Dad until we meet again, and I especially love all of you here who remain on this oxygen-side of the earth's crust.

Grandkid memories

• Chile verde
• Enchiladas
• Working in the yard
• Skip-bo
• Fresh produce from the garden 
• The evening news 
• The cabin
• Apple fritters from Dicks 
• his famous hook shot when playing horse
• Speaking Spanish
• Apricot jam
• The cabin
• His smile
• Him hiding in the basement and scaring us
• His "secrets" that were actually him licking your ear
• Feeding ice cream to the babies
• Christmas nativity
• Croquet
• Jimmy Stewart movies! It's a Wonderful Life, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
• "Pon pon" with babies
• Peeps
• Peaches
• Levi's
• Clamato juice
• Zobi wan kanobi
• Enie Meenie Minie Mo
• The last unicorn
• Best Bruschetta on earth
• Playing badminton in the backyard
• Black licorice
• University of Utah
• Sweeping the cabin
• Chocolate milk
• Gardening
• Tamales
• Paces popsicles
• Dressing up as Dracula for Halloween
• squirt soda
• Praying for little children all around the world in all of his prayers