(By Milton Ole Ravsten, son)

	Dad was a farmer and enjoyed the land and the things it offered.  When I was 
small I remember going with dad west of Clarkston to a farm he owned.  He also taught 
agriculture for the Cache County Extension Service.  About as early as I remember he 
was interested in selling farms and ranches and he obtained a salesman's license and 
started selling for Mallory Realtors in Salt Lake City.  Later, he and Sam Hymas of 
Smithfield became Realtors and started a partnership, "Mountain States Realty" in 
Logan.  Dad still had some farming work in Clarkston which he found difficult to 
maintain with his new profession, part of which was a small hear of milk cows.  He 
couldn't be there promptly each morning and evening to milk; he didn't want to burden 
his daughters with the job; he thought I was too small for the entire responsibility; 
so he sold them.  I have been happy ever since.  
	Dad did well in his business, specializing in selling farms and ranches.  He 
liked to get around, talk with people and be outside, all of which made him good at 
his job.  Eventually, he and Sam dissolved the partnership and dad incorporated 
Ravsten Realty.  It gave him satisfaction to have his name on his own business.  He 
was licensed in Utah, Idaho, Wyoming and Montana and spent a lot of time on the road.  
He put in some long days but usually came home at night.  He didn't plan too many 
overnight trips.  He liked company on the trips and when I could go during he Summer I 
went with him.  We both enjoyed it; he would let me drive, and we talked about a lot 
of things. 
	Dad's reputation grew and he was known all over.  Everyone who did business with 
him was happy.  He was known for being honest and open in his dealings.  Some people 
told him that when asking around for an honest realtor in Northern Utah to deal with 
he was the man they were always referred to.  Some other people weren't as honest and 
some didn't come through with commissions they owed him.  He didn't sue to collect the 
commissions, but preferred to let it go rather than create ill feelings in court.  On 
one occasion, he was working out a deal between two ranchers.  After a lot of 
negotiating they finally had it worked out and were ready to sign the contract.  The 
buyer's wife was happy and commented how nice it would be to have the ranch and the 
chickens.  The seller's wife spoke up and said that the chickens were hers, not her 
husbands, and they didn't go with the ranch.  This started the battle over again with 
the wives and the deal was about to collapse.  Dad had worked hard to make this sale 
and didn't want to loose a good commission so he asked the seller's wife how many 
chickens she had and what they were worth.  She had about 100 chickens at 3 or 4 
dollars each.  Dad bought them and gave them to the buyer's wife so they could make a 
deal.  
	Dad knew everyone it seemed.   One summer we went to Quincy, Washington to visit 
Wally and Melva who had gone there to farm.  Mother, Dad and I were excited.  We had 
never been to Washington.  On Sunday, Wally took dad and me to priesthood meeting.  
Wally was introducing us to the people, but before we were done, dad had introduced 
Wally to about as many people.  People who had come from Utah and Idaho nearly all 
knew dad.  
	It didn't matter where or when he went some place, dad always had to phone or 
visit somebody.  He liked to talk and always had something to say.  
	Since the early 50's dad always drove Buicks.  He liked them.  Each year he 
would drive 30 to 50 thousand miles so he wanted a good car.  He always wanted to be 
prepared so he had a little of everything in the trunk.  He had tools, shovel, tow 
chain, tire chains, belts and often two spare tires.  He had a box in the trunk with a 
first aid kit, camera, field glasses, sewing kit, blanket, several notebooks and who 
knows what else.  A prospector's pick was always in the trunk.  He didn't spend much 
time at it but he liked to pick around in the rocks when he had a chance to see if 
something was there. 
	One could easily recognize dad's profile.  In fact, a silhouette profile of his 
face was a sort of symbol for him.  His large nose, and hair combed back close to his 
head was a give away.  He was a little heavy, about 200-210 pounds most of the time; I 
like him that way as a child, he was something to hold on to.  I thought how funny it 
would be to have a skinny dad.  At anytime with just a couple of quick stretches, he 
could touch his hands flat on the floor.  He was in good health except for a couple 
problems.  He had sinus problems and was never without 1 or 2 handkerchiefs.  In his 
youth he had a horse roll over his leg and it injured his ankle.  He wasn't given 
medical attention and walked afterwards with a slight limp.  Later in life it bothered 
him a lot.  He worked continuously, never still unless he was asleep (according to 
mother he wasn't always still when asleep).  He liked the mountains, hunting and 
fishing although he didn't do much of it in my time.  There were just too many other 
more important things to do.  
	He was a good swimmer and as a young man was a qualified Red Cross Life guard.  
	Dad liked horses and while in Clarkston, kept a horse around.  The last two were 
named Nick.  He liked to ride and when he wanted exercise, he would ride Nick.  We 
didn't have much cattle, but dad got a brand "R2" for the beef animals we sometimes 
had.  The 2 was for dad and me.  
	During all my teenage years dad was the Bishop of the Clarkston ward and that 
image of him has always been in my mind.  He worked hard at it and was especially 
thoughtful of other's feelings.  He was humble and many things were close to his heart 
and would bring tears to his eyes.  He liked short meetings and sacrament meetings 
were rarely over an hour.  He told me a lot about how the church and the priesthood 
worked.  
	Dad was always writing notes.  His drawers and car were full of miscellaneous 
notes, reminders and sayings.  He kept plenty of notebooks around to write in.  
Whenever we wanted a treat dad was never without something stuck away.  Whenever he 
came to visit us in Ridgecrest, he had a treat for each of the kids.  
	Regardless of the hour, he never went to bed until he had read the Herald 
Journal and Deseret News newspapers. 
	Whenever he ordered a steak or hamburger, it was "very well done, and then cook 
it a little longer."
	He liked to laugh and enjoy things.  He was never off key with his jokes but 
sometimes found humor in things that brought mother a little disgust.
	Dad was concerned about his kids and I learned to lean on him for most 
everything.  He knew what to do and how to do it.  I felt when he was sick just prior 
to his death that there was a lot he wanted us to know, but he couldn't speak.  I was 
sad that I wasn't in step enough to communicate with him.