"Stop me if I've told you this before".  So began hundreds of utterances from the lips of our dad, Mick Vickers, storyteller par excellence.

Seldom did anyone ever stop him, because his stories—from the tale of his childhood days in an outhouse using dried corncobs for toilet paper to his story about the time a friend honored him by giving him a Rolex watch that turned out to be fake—were even funnier in repetition, and always brought joy and laughter.

On March 20, Mick wrapped up his bountiful, well-lived life by passing away at age 89.

Born in tiny, dusty Claremont, South Dakota as the second son of Art and Ruby Vickers,  he entered the world with two extraordinary gifts.  The rare combination of the duo—wide-eyed but intelligent optimism paired with exceptionally high tolerance for risk—paved the life path that he joyfully trekked.

Mick attended local schools and graduated high school in 1948.  His college and fraternity days were pretty much a wash—he preferred girls and baseball—and although he did not graduate, he made lifelong friends.

Mick played high school sports for the Claremont Honkers (go ahead and laugh at their name—we always did) who, with his help as halfback broke national high school football records by scoring 608 points in only 10 games and by winning 61 consecutive contests, an accomplishment that later earned his puny team the label, "Sports Dynasty".

He was also named an MVP in the 1948 American Legion state baseball tournament, as tiny Claremont ultimately fell to Sioux Falls in the championship game.  He later played baseball for the Watertown Lake Sox which went on to win the American Baseball Congress' National Championship.

This attention led to an offer from the Dodgers to play for their minor league team in Oklahoma, but rather than move south, he chose to stay home close to the love of his life, a pretty young woman named Evelynn Bailey.  He and Evie married in 1951.  Soon, they expanded their family, welcoming four kids, each two years apart.

The confidence and drive Mick displayed in his athletic career quickly morphed into a stellar performance in a new realm— insurance— and to a wonderful new place— the Black Hills, where he and Evie had honeymooned years before.

Based in Rapid City, his insurance agency was the leading producer among 425 different offices for American National Insurance Company before—hopping over a risk as if it was a little stone—he formed The Insurance Center and later founded Concept 76 Insurance Company.

Extremely motivated and blessed with a buoyant energy level, for years he spent five days a week on the road while trusting Evie to cope with three wild sons and one difficult daughter.

Relishing his time in the Hills, he spent each dawn, whether summer or winter, watching the sun rise and listening to wind drifting through the fragrant Ponderosa pines on his lofty deck overlooking Spring Creek Canyon.  Later, he ate breakfast at the Millstone or Colonial House, as he did nearly every day.

He still loved baseball, especially the time spent coaching a talented player and a chip off the old block—his grandson Matt.   Mick's face was burnished brown from spending hours under the Dakota sun while watching Post 22 games.

Mick rarely traveled except for work, not because he wasn't interested, but because he truly adored the beautiful nest he'd created, and he felt best at home.  Rarely one to "vacation," when he journeyed to Hawaii to please Evie, instead of cavorting on a beach, he turned his energy to climbing shirtless to the tops of towering palm trees, helping landscapers with pruning on the Big Island.

He exhibited exceptional physical strength into his eighth decade, was frequently seen working out at the gym, and once, when goaded by two grandkids to Show his muscle", he raised his sleeve to display a bicep as big and firm as a baking potato.

When home or visiting kids, Mick loved putting his feet up while sipping wine and eating grapes and cheddar.  It was not unusual for him to consume 8 ounces of cheese and a full bunch of grapes in one sitting as he sat talking, listening, and telling stories to those he loved. All of his stories were true.

Almost every night, as soon as Evie delivered his huge bowl of ice cream, he'd carpet the cream with salty cashews, then quickly vacuum it up before heading to bed, always half an hour after dinner.  He was also adept at the art of one-hour naps in the afternoon, tiny rests which bolstered his already sky-high motivation level and extraordinary physical strength.

Mick never did small things—every project he took on was huge.  By himself, he built for Evie an enormous cliffside greenhouse, himself a loft for his racing pigeons, and a unique guest house complete with an ingenious roof over the bed which one could crank open to reveal the starry sky above.

Friends and family treasure the birdfeeders he crafted— which were actually avian all-you-can- eat buffets, each holding 50 pounds of seed—that Mick designed and crafted with gleaming copper sheeting.

All of his projects revealed a surprising facility with engineering. His volunteer construction and make-it-work skills are enjoyed by his furry friends at the Humane Society and the Sisters at St. Martin's Monastery.

Christmastime brought out his skill as a prankster, as every year he disguised gifts in misleading packaging, such as taping tiny jewelry to an ancient, splintery, pair of skis before wrapping up their long, narrow box.  These delightful deceits amused his kids and they looked forward to them every year.

For the last 13 years of his life, Mick was married to Tommy Lou Moyle, whose beauty, thoughtful countenance, healthful lifestyle, and compatible belief systems brought him fulfilling companionship, wonder and joy.

But the greatest joy in Mick's life was his deep devotion to Jesus Christ, a bliss and comfort he found later in life, but shared with fervor.  When he told his family that his cancer was terminal, all were soothed to learn that he had no fear.  Instead, aware that death was near, he was wholly elated, and certain that he would go to Heaven.

Mick left Earth on March 20, leaving his wife Tommy Lou, four kids and several grandkids to remember him with boundless affection.

His daughter Deborah Wagman will miss the way he used the wrong adverb when he popped into her kitchen, asking, "Whatcha building ?"  Oldest son Mike mourns how—even to the family black sheep—he was interested and supportive with sage advice.  Son Mark will miss his frequent visits to his office for chats, and youngest boy Chris will yearn for his monthly trips for cherished Dad visits and fruitful conversations.

Mick always took good care of us, and that is the thing we will all miss equally.

We all remember the day when Mick—always the risk taker—landed us on the dry shore of security when, with full family aboard, he decided to cross a Spring-high creek near Silver City in our Jeep.  As water seeped through cracks in the doors, flowed over the hood and the vehicle began to float downstream, the four little Vickers kids did not fear drowning as most kids would.

Instead, the soothing fact that Dad was driving filled their four little noggins and embossed undeniable paternal trust on their minds.

His grandkids Rachel Bredemus, Krista and Shasta Vickers, Matt and Sean Vickers, Tom Vickers, Patrick Hafner, and Andrew Stahldoer will sadly realize that their time to learn from and love him are over, while "The Littles"—great grandtriplets Reid, Parker, Rylan and grandson Riley will one day revel in tales about "Big Pappa".

Mick is also survived by four of his five siblings, Nancy, Larry, Pat, and Leon.

In Heaven waiting to meet him are his first wife Evie, granddaughter Erin, his parents Art and Ruby, sister Coleen, and the nearly 50 departed friends he prayed for every day.

A Requiem Mass for Mick will be held at 10am March 27 ^th at Blessed Sacrament Church in Rapid City, after which his dust will be interred on the land he loved.

Memorials will be gratefully accepted at any cause or charity that is important to you.