Sierra said, “Dad, you are the only person I can think of who might be able to watch the kids for that long. Do you think you can take the time off?”

I told her I might need to retire from my job in order to do it, and I did.

As Heidi and I wane toward retirement years, we have both agreed that one of our primary goals in life is to have a meaningful relationship with our grandchildren, although all 11 live out of state.

Two of my grandparents, Avon Rich Smart and Ira B. Sharp, were the guiding lights of my life. No one, other than my parents, has had a stronger influence on me. They both offered unconditional love and a refuge when absolutely no one else could. They encouraged me from as long as I can remember, and I nurtured them as they approached death.

Watching four children solo for 13 days turned out to be an adventure unlike anything I had ever done.

I was so looking forward to being with Johanna, 9, Emerson, 7, Dylan, 5, and Indie, 2, and being the best possible grandpa, I made sure to stop by the library to check out several books I had wanted to read and remembered to pack my guitar to help pass the extra time I would have while watching them.

Wrong.

Most of you who share parenting responsibilities know the lessons I have recently learned, but for me, this experience was a life-changing epiphany.

Sierra left a detailed chart with phone numbers, lesson times, baseball games and gymnastic lessons. Neighbors helped by picking up and taking kids to school and some lessons. In-laws helped with sleepovers for Dylan and Indie. It really took a village, and I’m grateful for the help I received. Almost everyone warned me how tough a 2-year-old can be and cautioned that my adorable Indie would quickly have me pulling out what little hair I have left.

Here are a few misadventures and insights I can pass along:

• I’ve spent more time training horses than children, but the basic premises are the same. Pulling pajamas on a screaming, tired two-year-old Indie can be as rough as trying to “pull” an unwilling horse into a trailer. You have to offer both “the good deal” and then use as much pressure as needed, but as little as it takes.

• I’m deaf and I am going to make an appointment with the audiologist. It must be from too many basketball games, loud buzzers, bands, football games with cannons and rock-and-roll. My high frustration level is largely due to not being able to hear what they say — combined with a lack of sleep.

• While dealing with a 2-year-old, it is either an “I can do it myself” day or a “you do it” day. I don’t understand why they are so different, but don’t fight it. Just go with it.

• After two days, social media is a nonevent. The NBA basketball series I was so interested in disappeared and was replaced by the cartoon series “Sophia the First” with Indie every day.

• Don’t do goldfish. Johanna won a goldfish at the after-school fundraiser, and, of course, Emerson, Dylan and Indie all wanted one also. I got the bright idea to do an afternoon venture to the pet store and have everyone pick out his or her own bowl and fish. I could be “good Grandpa” and leave those valuable lessons of death, loss and grief to the parents when they got home. Unfortunately, we almost didn’t last the ride home without a death as Indie wanted to hold her own all the way. After a successful afternoon lesson with each child learning about cleaning the fishbowl and feeding the fish, I thought I had hit a home run. The next day, I heard screams from upstairs as the older three children discovered that Indie had poured all the fish food into each of their bowls. They couldn’t find their fish, as the bowls were full of a sootlike substance. The older three all performed life-saving measures while Indie screamed to high heaven.

• Although I never got the time to read one of my own books, I did read some amazingly entertaining and thoughtful books at bedtime, such as, “I Love You Through and Through” and the ever-popular “Walter the Farting Dog.” Looking back, I’m now embarrassed I gave Heidi such a bad time for spending all that money on quality children’s books and am proud of my daughters for passing the love of reading on to their children.

• Someone should consider passing a helmet law for 2-year-olds.

• There is an adage I’ve tried to follow that goes, “Wherever you are, be there.” That is never truer then while being with grandchildren. Put the phone down. Don’t let the need to let everyone know about your experience override your experience.

• Then again, I realized the smartphone has a huge upside, especially when the battery on the phone died while I was driving in the middle of Orange County. With four screaming kids, I had no idea where I was without MapQuest.

• When Emerson asked me to teach him the guitar, I explained that the neck is too big for small hands, but maybe I could take him to the music store to look for one he can learn on. Although he can be very forgetful, he relentlessly reminded me about the guitar until “good Grandpa” took him to the store and bought one.

• My grandkids are constantly forgetting things. I think that is normal and I’m sure there is a good reason why, I just can’t remember it. Genetics isn’t always a good thing.

• Sometime during week two, I realized that raising children is like batting in baseball: There are more strikeouts than home runs — and it is all about percentages. In fact, I learned while garnering wisdom from Princess Sophia, “You may find that when you try to make things perfect, you might find that you make everyone around you perfectly miserable.” Hmmm. …

• There were incredible moments, such as spending time playing laser tag with Emerson and having him declare that it was the best day of his life. Also, there were horrible moments, such as when Johanna fell off the wall onto her head and I worried all night about a concussion. There were puzzling times, such as when Johanna lost a tooth and I had no idea what the deal is with the Tooth Fairy. There was the love of life in Dylan’s contagious grin, which he has worn since the day he was born.

It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I would do it again in an instant for any one of our children.

As I was leaving, Indie leaned from her mother’s arms, crying for me, and held my cheeks between her little hands. “Grandpa, don’t go. I love you,” she said while intently holding my head, almost touching me nose to nose.

Somewhere in those two weeks, I made a connection that changed our relationship to something more than being “good Grandpa.” The effort I had put into this experience, however unsustainable and unrealistic, left them knowing how much I loved them. They have someone else who will listen, change their diapers, be patient and love them unconditionally.

In 20 years or so (hopefully), I might need someone to do the same for me. I have no doubt they will be there.

Tom Smart retired in March after 45 years as a photographer for the Deseret News.

Wasatch Academy's Cody John (22) and South Summit's Beau Rydalch collide in the final seconds of Tuesday night's game. Rydalch was called for a blocking foul as Wasatch Academy edged South Summit 53-51 on a go-ahead shot with 1.8 seconds left. For more photos from the game, go to: www.deseretnews.com/sports/high-school/photos/

From the depths of Desolation Canyon on this hot July day, it would appear that Carter and the 14 teenagers with him are like any other youth group that treks here for adventure. And in most ways Carter and his friends are normal teenagers. But in one key respect, they are unique — each is an amputee.

They have come here from around the country for the third annual Un-Limb-ited Amputee Whitewater Rafting Camp, which is sponsored by Shriners Hospital for Children.

The camp is the brainchild of Matt Lowell, a physical therapist at Shriners, who recognized that when amputees became teenagers, they often needed more intensive intervention, treatment and attention. To help fill that need, Shriners, under Lowell's direction, started a winter camp seven years ago where kids learn to ski and snowboard.

From the winter camp's success and Lowell's previous work at the University of Utah Intermountain Burn Clinic, which has run a similar camp down this same stretch of river, the Un-Limb-ited Amputee camp was born.

The six-day, 89-mile river rafting trip starts at Sand Wash, near Duchesne, and ends at Green River. The camp consists of teenagers ages 12 to 18, mostly from the Intermountain region, but guest campers from around the country are also invited. Burn Camp and Holiday Expeditions provide the river guides, gear and food, and Shriners and its donors provide direct donations to the camp, resulting in a very minimal application fee. Most times, if there is any financial need, that fee is waived.

The fact that Maj. John Wesley Powell, the first man to navigate the Green and Colorado rivers in 1869, was missing his arm from an explosion in the Civil War was not something that the organizers of the Un-Limb-ited Camp had in mind, but it has provided a great role model and an inspirational piece of history to share with the campers.

"Teaching a child to walk or use a prosthetic is not the goal. It is simply a step in the process," Lowell said. "Our goal is to get them back into life and pursing their dreams, goals and aspirations. Having them walk 10 feet down the hallway in a clinic is not life."

Marina Ivie, 23, is one of two "counselors in training" at this year's camp. Ivie lost her leg in an automobile accident near Payson nine years ago. While recovering at University Hospital, two amputees stopped by her room and talked to her about what it would be like to live with one leg. One of the amputees was a teenage boy. The other was a nurse. Seeing their success gave Ivie hope.

Last year, Ivie quickly learned the impact she could also have on other amputees when she picked up a camper from Tampa, Fla., at the airport. Ivie recalls that after introductions they sat to wait for another arrival and started talking. When the teen learned that Ivie was married and had a son she "kind of stepped back and got this look on her face and said 'Wait, you are married?' " The girl couldn't believe it. "Someone loves you and married you?" the girl asked again. And again Ivie said yes. "With your leg like that?" the girl asked. Ivie replied, "Yes, because he loves me for me and the person I am, and my leg doesn't make any difference to him."

Listening to the young girl's questions was bittersweet.

"She didn't know. She thought that she was the freak and that no one was going to like her because she wasn't the perfect model, that she didn't have everything there," Ivie recalls. "But she had more in her heart, and that is what she had to learn — she had more to give inside."

In almost every way, the campers on the Green River seem like any other teenagers trying to navigate the choppy waves of adolescence. About half have been without a limb since birth. Others have lost their limbs to accidents, cancer or, in one case, infected chickenpox. As 15-year-old Jessica Nordstrom explains, "I think I'm blessed because I was born with what I have, because if later on in life I had to get my leg amputated, I don't think I'd adapt to it as well."

What all share is that they are different — at an age when conformity is the norm. As Koyla Arnold, the oldest of the campers, explains, "When I was younger, everybody was saying, 'Oh man, you're different, you're different,' and I knew there were other amputees, but when I came in contact with Shriners, I knew I wasn't different — just unique."

Take 15 teenagers with that uniqueness in common, many of whom have never been camping or unplugged from their cell phones or iPods, mix in the grandeur of Desolation Canyon, and you have the ingredients for what campers refer to as a "life-changing experience."

After walking off the bus at the Sand Wash where the rafts are ready to load, Lucas Slusher, who had never left Ohio, simply stares at his surroundings and exclaims to the others, "I don't know about you, but I could stay here all day and look at that rock."

Each day is filled with water fights, kayaking, swimming down the river and white water rapids. Afternoon is generally some type of craft or hike. At night, everyone gathers in a circle, sometimes around a campfire, to share the highs and lows of each day. The lows tend to fade with the current, quickly banished and forgotten.

One high for all was hiking about a mile up a steep canyon to an old moonshine still. For the adults who help run the camp, it's hard to imagine a more inspiring sight than watching 15 amputees climb, many falling along the way, but continuing with perseverance until reaching the top. "I don't know if they realize it, but they are the ones that are such an inspiration to me," said Rick Coriell, a guide with Holiday Expeditions. "I don't know how else to explain it, other than it is kind of unbelievable. I'm so used to going up these canyons and just not thinking about the little things. They give me so much more than I will ever, ever, ever get or will be able to give."

After the hike back down the canyon, the campers share the humorous side of traversing life without a limb. Kristine Littlefield, 13, from Centerville, laughs while admitting that she "used to shark a lot," joking about a fabricated story of having her leg ripped off by the jaws of a shark. A collective and knowing "yeah" comes from the group.

Logan Spencer recalled how he was walking through the Walmart parking lot when a car drove past him, and he fell down, took his leg off and started screaming. A chorus of "Oh, that's bad" comes from the group amid the laughter. Daniellia Jimenez talked about her leg falling off while doing cartwheels and a couple of campers add "Yeah, mine did, too."

At night, under the stars, there are more serious discussions. Questions about myoelectric arms, limb transplants, phantom pains and residual limb pains. Several campers talked about what it feels like when people stare at you.

"I just wish they would ask," said Luke Lish, who at 17 is a high school wrestling champion in Idaho.

Littlefield, a competitive butterfly swimmer, says that when people stare at her foot when she doesn't have her prosthetic on, she smiles at them and waves with her foot and toes, which are where a knee would normally be (she has a Van Nes rotationplasty amputation).

Jessica Nordstrom, who lost her left leg at birth, admits that she had never really worn a skirt or a dress before.

"After listening to all the other campers and coming to this camp, I've thought a lot about it and I'm going to buy my first dress or skirt — I'm not sure which one. I'm pretty stoked," she said.

Ivie, the camp counselor, offers some dating tips to the teenagers missing a leg: "If they can't get comfortable with your leg, they aren't good enough for you."

Lowell has been fortunate in seeing quick and big results from the camp he started three years ago. "We get letters from teachers and parents who have witnessed the changes in the kids over the years that have been pretty amazing," he said. "We've seen kids with significant confidence issues where their own best friends in school didn't even know they were amputees and they will come back to camp the next year wearing shorts and talking about trying out for various sports teams, going to the dance and participating in activities that before camp they were a little too intimidated to pursue."

As much as the campers get out of the experience, the volunteers, guides and counselors get that and more from the river.

"I won't lie to you," said firefighter Mitch King, who has volunteered on many burn camps and all of the Un-Limb-ited camps. "I'm just selfish — I get so much out of it, I keep coming back."

Lacie Tye, the camp nurse, agrees.

"Working in the hospital, I don't ever get to see kids get well," she says. "So to see these kids, when I know what it is like for them to be in the hospital and what they have been through, and come out and do absolutely everything, it is just amazing."

Much is shared: Sunsets, rolling thunder, lightning strikes, bighorn sheep sightings, the thrill of the rapids and the stark beauty of a canyon that in some places is deeper than the Grand Canyon. But nothing compares to the sharing of each other's lives.

The river is a journey. At first, many campers are simply trying to fit into where they feel most comfortable. By the middle of the trip, all are friends and sharing intimate details about their lives. By the end, a lot of the teens say they have made friends for life, even though they may never see each other again. While saying goodbye, emotions are overwhelming. Long embraces are exchanged, often with very few words, other than "I love you." Tears flow like a river.

e-mail: smart@desnews.com