In Loving Memory

My maternal Grandmother Mary Marjorie "Marge" Mills passed from this life Friday May 18 2007. At home with dignity and in peace surrounded by family her life force faded then gently ceased. As someone so influential in my life I gratefully honor my "M".

The child of an early 21st century American heartland upbringing instilled with the values of Indian territory homesteading pioneers. Her post WWI, dust bowl, depression era pre-WWII life experiences forged a quiet indomitable woman.

She never wasted words proselytizing the worth of commitment to family, friends, community, perseverance, thrift, humility, determination, hard work, resilience and self reliance. She lived it - it was who she was.

What the young boy in me remembers most are the smells and the flavors of Grandma's house. In her cinder block tract home in dusty Wilcox Arizona her cast iron skillet popped-n-sizzled with the promise of fried chicken, the pressure cooker whistled with potatoes, her back yard garden overflowed with tomatoes, cucumbers & squash - (in which I had no interest) But, I'd take a nickle for every corpulent iridescent green tomato worm I could collect.

The never silent corrugated tin shed that popped and creaked as the sun warmed it's metal sides smelled of oil based paints and rusty nails. It held a infinite variety of treasures and troubles for my ever inquisitive hands. The yard seemed to team with frogs, praying mantises and butterflies, giant grass hoppers and thorny toads.
Feeling silly running about the house unplugging the few appliances an early 1960's home contained before an approaching mid summer monsoon, her afternoon naps.
My uncles pitching wall with big strike zone cut out of plywood an old Navy issue wool blanket backstop.
Sipping a cold Dr. Pepper from a glass bottle crunching Lay's (ya can't eat just one) potato chips watching a snowy black n white rabbit eared console TV. (You had to get up and change your own channels - all 3 of 'em)
The pound cake and divinity at Christmas that must have melted in your mouth.
Poker, Yahtzee and endless gin rummy games at the kitchen table.
As we all grew older she cooked less and moved from small town to city into progressively smaller digs. She enjoyed her retirement and her growing brood of great grandchildren. She traveled some and always had time for friends.

One of her great passions was sports. College football, pro baseball & basketball, a little rodeo thrown in. She had an encyclopedic knowledge for players and team records.

She didn't like to "fuss" and wouldn't let anybody fuss over her. She lived independently according to her terms until just weeks before her passing.

Her no nonsense down home, sometimes caustic wit and droll sense of humor remained with her to the last. She buoyed the spirits of my Mom, Aunt & Sister as they cared for her in her final days as she had cared for them as children.

While hospitalized and enduring a litany of procedures and treatments she quipped "if anybody knew how much trouble it was just to die I - why don't think they'd do it!"

Thankfully, my kids and I spent 2 days with her the week before she died. Weak but feisty she and I spoke of my spirited youth and somewhat troubled past. I thanked her being my touchstone, for being an ever constant and loving force in my turbulent life.

I will be forever grateful she left this life knowing me as a sober, industrious, responsible Father. She said she was proud of me, glad I had turned out OK.
"I knew you had it in you" she smiled, "but ya know Troy" she cautioned; "even when you're on the right path, if you just sit there, you'll get run over... so you just keep it up and don't ever forget that".
I love you Grandma. I won't ever forget that.

Insanity is hereditary - you catch it from your kids

That's a great quote. I'm not certain from whom it originated but, I borrowed it from an excerpt from Ronald Regean' presidential diary. Imagine, arguably the most powerful Chief Executive on the planet recording that in his personal journal after a conversation with one of his grown children. Must have been some conversation. Makes me feel a little better actually.

This is my inagural post in my blog about being a single Dad. I have a lot to say about parenting, single parenting, being the Dad and the only parent in the house. I think it's special. Special in an important way. Being a Dad is important, being a single Dad is - well, more so.

First, I acknowledge that being a man and choosing parenthood over the single life after divorce is odd. Not unique really, there are plenty of single Dad's out there today. We're vastly outnumbered by single Mom's of course, our numbers are growing, still it's odd.
My kids go to a school with 750 students and I'm the only single Dad (that I know of). Our school is primarily 2 parent families, SUV's & Mini Vans clogging the street and school driveway every morning. Next would be blended families, single Mom's and a healthy portion of Grandparent parents. So yes, our little family is odd and that's OK. I've grown accustomed to and even become amused by peoples reactions. Even the kids have related their friends are curious and bewildered about our family situation. This is our reality and it is - as they say- all good.