Bradford Camp

July 8, 1958 - June 9, 2022

If Brad had written his own obituary, it probably would have gone something like this: “Brad finally died.” But he didn’t write one, so this is what he gets. Bradford Camp was born to collegiate cheerleader, Leah Pace Camp, and suspected spy, Baxter Camp, on July 8, 1958, in Riverside, California. Brad and his two older brothers, Vaughn and Lowell, were born within three years of each other and grew up as best buddies. His brothers always had his back, and the three of them had a great time together sledding down a hill of ice plant in their backyard, shoveling snow off the driveway to play basketball, playing catch with their mom, and going camping as a family. As the self-proclaimed runt of the litter, Brad was often at a physical disadvantage in sports, which may explain why he later became obsessed with sports movies and John Wooden’s philosophy about building character. When Brad ultimately sprouted like a bean stock, he played high school basketball, and like a true Renaissance man he also loved singing in the Excalibur Show Choir. After graduating from high school, Brad ventured on a mission to Taiwan where he quickly became famous for being a physical anomaly, tall and white. He received consistent invites to take photos with the locals, so he practically started the selfie trend. If Brad were still alive, he’d happily lure you into a recliner and offer up hours of commentary while flipping through his mission slides on his ancient projector. Brad attended Brigham Young University after his mission, where he literally stumbled into his wife, Nicole, in a Sunday School class. Soon after, he became Nicole’s home teacher. Unbeknownst to Brad, Nicole had been writing home gushing about her amazing home teacher. When Nicole’s dad, Dick, went to visit his daughters in Provo, he pulled Brad aside for a chat. Brad was blindsided when Dick told him that there would be no sex before marriage. In hindsight, after getting to know Dick’s sense of humor, Brad regretted that his response hadn’t been, “Too late!” Brad swept Nicole off her feet with his wit, charm, and 1971 sky-blue Maverick with a white top. The couple was married in June of 1982 and immediately moved to Southern California to pursue Brad’s promising career as a door-to-door insulation salesman. Unfortunately (or fortunately), that didn’t work out, so he transitioned to a lively career in RV repossession. Due to a murder investigation (it’s a long story), Brad and Nicole got out of Dodge with their newborn, Brielle, and returned to Utah. Brad got a job with IBM and the Camp family bounced around Salt Lake County, living in West Valley City and Sugarhouse before finally settling in Bountiful and welcoming their second daughter, Kiara, into the family. In 1986, at the age of 28, Brad was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and given 7 to 9 years to live. (Spoiler alert: Brad outlived his young oncologist by a year.) After multiple surgeries and rounds of chemotherapy, the Camp family went out to enjoy a rare dinner at a restaurant, but Brad was disappointed to repeatedly find hair in his food. After sending the food back to the kitchen twice and receiving profuse apologies from both the server and manager, Brad realized it was his own eyebrows and eyelashes falling into his entree. Mortified, he couldn’t leave the restaurant fast enough and the whole family laughed all the way home. Brad was told that due to chemotherapy treatments he would never be able to father more children, but five years later, miracle baby Talyn arrived. Brad adored his three daughters, but everyone knows his favorite child was his nephew, Ryan–the son he never had. After Brad’s best friend, Rod, passed away Brad also became a surrogate husband to Rod’s wife, Denise, and father figure to his four girls: Endre, Keely, Awny, and Nika. And any college-bound nieces and nephews knew they could count on Uncle B for a party venue, free boxes of cereal, and a game of foosball. With his beautiful wife, three girls, and mother-in-law, Zelda, in tow, Brad spent another three decades hiking, camping, road tripping, motorcycling, picnicking at the park, watching an obscene number of movies, doing church service, and treading water in the Sea of Estrogen. A bonus level of his life was becoming Papa and spending time with his nine grandchildren: Cougar, Bailie, Beckett, Brek, Calloway, Dax, Dixon, Tate, and Langley. Brad was a master roller-skater, leather-clad biker, and sentimental knitter who trained for a marathon he never got to run. He humored Nicole by traveling, on occasion, but Brad preferred to see the world via Google Images. In 2018, after surviving 32 years of cancer challenges, Brad suffered a massive subdural hematoma that made his family realize they only thought they knew what health challenges were. He had emergency surgery and five weeks later another brain bleed required a second surgery. Brad fought hard to return to his normal life, but it wasn’t meant to be. From then on Brad came in like a wrecking ball as he refused to use a cane and continued fighting to maintain his balance. His brain injury marked the beginning of the end, and in the plot twist of his lifetime, cancer took a backseat to the onslaught of other health issues Brad faced. But when he died the cancer died too, so he ultimately showed that disease who’s boss. Brad disliked all pets (except for Milo the Wonder Ferret, of course), questions about how he was feeling (his response was always “swell”), Disneyland (much to the chagrin of his entire immediate family), and stupid people (if he ever called you “Jim,” know that he likely remembered your name but was calling you a jerk/idiot/moron in that special, endearing way that only Brad could). He loved Canadian bacon and green olive pizza, Clive Cussler novels, his moldy Camelbak water bottle, root beer freezes in a giant macho mug, a dry cereal chaser after dinner, McDonald’s filet-o-fish sandwiches, ridiculous movies (e.g. Rocketman, Master of Disguise, Dodgeball), and his motorcycle playlist of oldies music. And now that he’s gone, Nicole can finally admit that the chocolate peanut butter ice cream and Dr. Pepper she told you was Brad’s favorite was actually her favorite. Things his family and friends will miss most about him include: hearing him counting to ten in Chinese, singing quirky songs around the house, his George McFly laugh, playing and singing One Tin Solider on the piano, passive aggressively increasing the TV volume when background noise exceeded his approved threshold, when he laughed so hard he cried, enthusiastically instructing the grandkids to lean over their plates during meals, watching and quoting movies together, and complaining about riding in Nicole’s convertible Mini Cooper because it was too windy and too noisy—and yet he would spend 10 straight days on a motorcycle. They will also miss hearing his go-to phrases, including, “How YOU doin’?” “If you spend it, it’ll be gone,” “Quit lettin’ all the bought air out!” and “Don’t go” as he hugged you goodbye. Most of all they’ll remember him for always trying to do the right thing, even when it was a physical struggle. Brad leaves behind the legacy of Cherish the Ride, which began as an awareness campaign that didn’t quite catch on, but the philosophy became a major motivator and life motto for him and everyone who knew him well. Cherish the Ride was Brad’s reminder to love life and really live, despite life-altering challenges. After decades of living on borrowed time, Brad is finally reunited with his favorite football coach, The Dickster; his buddy Hot Rod; and his sweet mother, Leah. Private family services will be held for Brad at a later date.