I attended Brigham Young High School for six years. No, I wasn't held back -- I started there in the seventh grade.

I remember the school with great affection. I cannot think of any of the teachers, for example, that were not genuinely interested in us.

I was a dense teenager, but I sensed that even those teachers that we made fun of, because of their perceived quirks, were dedicated to our education.

Some of my heroes to this day include: Mr. Rex Arnett, who launched me on a life-long love of languages; Mr. Gary Penrod, who got me to read the Koran in his humanities class and taught me about tolerance for other viewpoints; Mr. Lynn Benson and Mr. Kenneth Bowthorpe, who coached the debate team and introduced me to government which ultimately led me to my professional career; Mrs. Anna B. Hart, who loved English grammar and literature and was completely unfazed by our obliviousness; Mrs. Faye Buttle, who introduced me to the rich heritage of Utah; Mr. Owen Bennion; and Mr. Verl Allman, who nearly persuaded me to embark on a career studying invertebrates. Each one of them opened doors that helped me and my classmates to better our lives.

I am lucky to have had the opportunity to attend BY High and to have made friends who, like me, were basically clueless when it came to getting in trouble. We just didn't know how, so when we were together we had a good time without booze, tobacco, other illegal substances, or dangerous types of fooling around.

Probably the closest I came to serious delinquency came when we made blow guns out of medical tubing, then shot dried beans at the screens in movie theaters or at innocent bystanders.

Some of my BY High experiences were exhilarating and others were not so exciting.

The high point of my otherwise mediocre athletic career came when I pinned a 310-pound wrestler from Payson. This capped a come-from-behind victory for our team -- we won the match by one point!

My excitement was tempered, however, when the Payson coach approached me afterwards to congratulate me, and mentioned that my opponent had never competed in a match in which he wasn't pinned.

One of my down moments came when I lost the election for student body president to Brent Ashworth. I had mistakenly assumed that I was pretty much a shoo-in. Brent outhustled me and he came out on top.

I learned that if you take something for granted, as often as not it won't happen. Brent's work ethic has served him well in his career as a corporate lawyer and in local government -- he served as mayor of Payson, as I recall. Although we were rivals in that student body election, we are good friends today.

Of course, it is the lifelong friendships with other BY Highers that are the enduring legacy of my BY High experience. Many of us have kept in touch through good times and bad and over long distances.

My wife says she would rather go to our class reunions than to her own (she attended high school somewhere in the high-lands of Salt Lake City) because we all know each other so well and have such a good time when we get together.

I don't think it is accidental that the friends I hung out with in high school have become successful parents, educators and professionals.

Although the doors to BY High closed in 1968, the doors the school opened for us will affect our families, friends and future generations eternally.

Before he died at the ripe old age of eighteen, my dog led me on daily walks around the block and through the universe. Sometimes, I stopped to look at a teeming colony of tiny black ants filling a sidewalk crack or at Venus gleaming next to a new moon in the darkening sky.

I thought often of the men and women through the ages who labored incessantly to connect their observational dots to try to make sense of the world. Darwin, Newton, and Einstein are just three of the countless humans whose legacy still enriches our understanding of life and the cosmos in countless ways.

I reflected on life itself—an inexorable force that conquers the worst planet earth can throw at it through countless years of adaptation. I remembered the history of the Enlightenment, which brought mankind out of darkness and superstition and began to bring a measure of order to the chaos of life.

And I considered what I know of my own faith—of a God who presides over this glorious existence, whose adherence to law and utter absence of arbitrariness is elegant perfection itself.

I have a close friend who is not of my faith who turned to me one day and asked, “Do you really believe in that Book of Mormon stuff?” I told him that I did, and I acknowledged that there is no stone carving in Central America or elsewhere that says “Nephi was here.” I also told him that I do not think that God wants us to believe in the Book of Mormon because of some archeological evidence, but that he wants us to learn of its truth by asking God about it and having the faith that God will tell us.

I also acknowledged that the experience of having the spirit speak to us is both intensely personal and impossible to describe in words. I said that reason could not convince him of the truthfulness of that book; he had to find out by asking God himself.

How do I reconcile my faith with my European if-I-can’t-see-it-or-touch-it-it-doesn’t exist heritage? By understanding that spirit and empirical truths are not mutually exclusive. By having the humility to admit that there is more that we do not know than we can even imagine. By talking with God and listening and watching for his answers. By listening to my heart when I need to know things of the spirit and using my head when I need to pick my way through the environment I live in.

My faith as a Latter-day Saint has enriched my understanding of the world around me. Knowing that a human being is comprised of a physical body, a spirit, and intelligence does not diminish in the least my sense of awe at the intricacies of the physical world. My life is deeper and fuller for it.

By James Holtkamp, January 2011

Source

April 4, 1949 ~ March 13, 2020
James Arnold Holtkamp "Jim", beloved husband, father, grandfather, brother, friend, and colleague, passed away peacefully after a valiant fifteen-year battle with cancer.

He spoke fluent Spanish from childhood summers spent at his grandparents' ranch on the Mexican border, and developed a life-long love of Hispanic people and culture.

Jim valued relationships, remaining close with his beloved Brighham Young High School Class of 1967, as well as el Seño de Abraham, his college roommates.

The highlight of his service as a young missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Central America was taking a dugout canoe to the San Blas islands off the coast of Panama, where he taught the gospel of Jesus Christ in flip flops and discovered iguana as a culinary specialty.

After graduating from BYU in Political Science in 1972, Jim attended George Washington University Law School where he made lifelong friends in the Washington Ward, including his best friend, Marianne Coltrin, who agreed to marry him after he rescued her from falling off a roof during a ward service activity. After marrying in the Salt Lake Temple on December 28, 1973, they raised five children together in Salt Lake City.

After working for the Senate Watergate Committee and the Interior Department, Jim embarked on a fruitful and pioneering legal career in climate change and air quality. Jim was a prolific contributor to the field of environmental law, publishing many articles, and was an American College of Environmental Lawyers Fellow.

Jim proudly served as the president of the Rocky Mountain Mineral Law Foundation, with family summer vacations planned around the annual Rocky Mountain Mineral Law Foundation Institutes. He served on several nonprofit boards related to environmental law, including LDS Earth Stewardship, and Utah Clean Energy. He assisted the Pax Natura Foundation in their rainforest preservation work in Costa Rica.

Jim was an adjunct professor at the J. Reuben Clark Law School at Brigham Young University, and the S.J. Quinney College of Law at the University of Utah, and was selected as one of the first senior fellows of the Wallace Stegner Center for Land, Resources, and the Environment at the S.J. Quinney College of Law.

He won many awards for distinguished service throughout his career, including the Excellence in Teaching Award at the S.J. Quinney College of Law in 2008. Jim loved mentoring associates and students, with teaching and scholarship being his vocational passions.

Jim believed in Jesus Christ and acted accordingly. He devoted his life to service, including as scoutmaster (guiding many young men to become Eagle Scouts like himself), twice as bishop, temple worker, juvenile detention service missionary, legal services missionary in Buenos Aires and Santiago, and finally as Elders Quorum instructor. He taught the Sunday lesson five days before his death.

Jim often expressed gratitude for opportunities to serve, especially as Bishop for the Spanish-speaking ward of the Millcreek Stake. While on chemotherapy and working full-time in his demanding profession, he often commented that serving the people of his beloved "barrio" energized him and gave him great purpose. Jim's life extended long past the expectation of his treating physicians, likely because he devoted his life to others.

Jim loved listening to classical music, reading books on every subject imaginable, and writing poetry which he used to help him heal from the tragic death of his oldest son in 1992.

Jim loved cycling and summiting peaks in the Wasatch until disease robbed him of the use of his legs.

Jim was gentle and kind. He had the unique gift of seeing the best in others (though he enjoyed gently lampooning his family in his clever and pun-filled annual Christmas letters). Jim's humor, selflessness, and intelligence will be missed.

The family would like to thank Huntsman Hospice; his long-time personal trainer, Kacey Payzant; his personal caregivers, April and Aaron Graves; and his oncologists, Dr. Jonathan Whisenant and Dr. Ignacio Garrido-Laguna.

Jim is survived by his wife of forty-six years, Marianne; children Ariane Dansie (Dave), Rachel Marshall (Austin), Allison Holtkamp (Jake Waid), and David Holtkamp (Jen); grandchildren Will, Caroline, James, Isaac, Rebekah, Isabel, Nathan, Sean, Brent, and Tessa; and his siblings. He now is reunited with those who preceded him in death, including his son, Brent, and his parents, Karyl and CJ.

The family will be holding a private graveside service.

Once public health concerns have subsided, the family will host a memorial service, date and time to be announced.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks friends to consider a donation to the James Arnold Holtkamp Scholarship Fund at the S.J. Quinney College of Law.

Deseret News, March 15 to March 16, 2020