A Son’s Perspective

Good morning everyone… for those of you that don’t know me, my name is Ian.  I am the youngest of Colin’s twin sons.  By 26 minutes to be exact.

I’d first like to say a couple thank yous.

The staff at the Arizona Burn Center in Phoenix were remarkable.  Looking back, I can barely comprehend the shock, disbelief, sadness, fatigue and fear we felt during dad’s 85 days there.  Although we constantly struggled with uncertainty and not knowing what the future held for us, we were certain of one thing: that Dad was in the right place.  The staff treated Dad as if he were their own family.  Dr. Klemens, Dr. Peck, Dr. Sadler, John, Susan, Tom, Laura, Trish, Stephanie…thank you for your dedication to your work and for treating Dad so well.

I also want to take the time to thank some of the very special individuals who provided so much support to us – and Dad — in the last several months.  Colin and I have been overwhelmed by your thoughtfulness and we know dad would have been as well.

• Stony – You were always there no matter what, and your guidance meant so much to us; no wonder Dad loved you as much as he did;  you took what should have been a terrible day – the day we picked up dad’s ashes – and made into something special for us; thanks for being a best friend to dad and welcoming us into your life; and thank you for taking the lead on today’s memorial service; we love you very much
• Darcy and Larry who aren’t here today – They worked countless hours doing something they’ve never done before, all to support their friend and our father; although I experienced many of the lowest points of my life in the last 5 months, I’ve also experienced some of the highest; seeing them do so much to plan and put on a benefit-ride for Dad makes me realize how truly amazing people can be – and how lucky dad was to have friends like this
• Monica – our steadfast partner standing vigil at the Burn Center; we were deeply touched by the love you showed dad over your countless trips to Phoenix; we slept better at night knowing you and CK were by his side
• Frank Gary and the Prescott Victory Riders – We loved seeing the Victory Riders at the hospital; on a few of the times we saw you there, my brother and I had trouble even finding something to say, but that’s because how touched we were by you being there; and you did an amazing job honoring dad at the Victory Riders meet in August – thank you
• Tom Medevielle – You told us you were Dad’s best student and he was your best teacher; there is no doubt that is true; thanks  to you and your family for helping to make today’s event so special – you have an amazing family
• Mom – Your motherly instincts brought you to Phoenix at just the right time; if ever there was a time that Colin and I needed you…this was it; it meant so much to have you there with us, more than you will ever know
• Ann – I don’t know how Colin and I could have done this without you; thanks for being part of the family; we make a great team.  I love you.
• Colin – Well, there aren’t words.  I’m so grateful to have you always there in our journey through life.  Thanks for being you.  I’m super proud of you and look forward to honoring and remembering dad, together, every possible chance we have.

And to everyone else, you’ve been truly amazing.  Dad lived in a remarkable community with remarkable friends.  The outpouring of support, even from those of you that only knew Dad for a short time, means the world to us, and has been so very comforting over the last several months.  I have a newfound appreciation for how much a card, email or short phone call can mean.  Thanks so much for all of them.  Thanks so much for being you.  Thanks so much for loving Dad.

Probably Dad’s two biggest passions in recent years were motorcycles and his dog Precious.  Man, he loved them both.  Dad sometimes closed his emails to Ann by calling himself the “Big Hairy Biker Dude with a Dog Named Precious.”  He loved the freedom of riding his motorcycle and he loved everything that came with it.  Yes, he loved the tattoos and the leather, but mostly he loved the people and the camaraderie.  I’ve been fortunate to meet some very special people since Dad’s accident and I can see why dad loved being a biker.  You are all family.

Life has never seemed as short as it has these last several months.  I’ve found myself thinking a lot about life in general, and about what is most important.  For me family is most important…and Dad was the core.  I am lucky to have had a father that loved me as much as he did.  He showed it constantly.  I’ll forever cherish my memories with him and be grateful for what he made me able to achieve.  Dad made the world a better place. I’m lucky that he was – and always will be – my father.

It seems that my fondest childhood memories happened because of Dad.  One summer while I was in elementary school, dad spent weeks customizing a camper on the back of his Ford pick-up truck so he could take my mom, brother and me on a trip to his beloved West.  This is where I started my first rock collection, spotted my first coyote and was given my first cowboy hat – all because of dad.  He made our life so memorable – and taught me so much – because he shared his passions with us.

One of Dad’s biggest passions was rescue.  I fondly remember the countless days I spent with Dad at the Volunteer Rescue Squad in Leesburg, Virginia.  Dad immersed himself in all things rescue – he eventually earned about every designation possible and was elected as the President of the local rescue squad, and the Vice President of the Virginia state association.  Dad did everything from teaching instructor courses to performing show and tell to our grade-school classmates.  Colin and I especially enjoyed our weekends when we would dress up with fake wounds (many which included fake blood) so that Dad’s students would have the opportunity to practice.  Every kid should be so lucky as us to have a dad like ours.

When I was in high school, dad moved the family to Michigan for work, so our family was making one of several car trips from Virginia to Michigan during the transition.  On one particular trip, we happened upon a single vehicle accident – involving a big rig on the Pennsylvania Turnpike – just after it happened.  Dad had barely stopped the car when he dashed to the trunk for a first aid kit and disappeared in traffic to assist the driver.  Colin and I spent the next two hours sitting on top of our rented U-Haul trailer watching in absolute pride as Dad climbed into the rig and administered aid to the unknown trucker.  Dad stayed with him the entire time.  What a role model.  Dad was always compassionate and helpful of others; I’ve always admired this trait in him.  He would drop anything to help someone in need.  Dad, you made the world a better place.

Dad was smart, too.  If you’ve ever been on one of his jeep tours, heard him recite his cowboy poetry or challenged him to a game of Trivial Pursuit, you would know this.  Dad could work his way around a Trivial Pursuit gameboard, win all the categories, and return to the finish in only five or six turns.  Meanwhile, the rest of us would still be working to answer our first question correctly.

Dad was talented at so many things.  He played the saxophone and majored in music in college.  His passed this love of music on to my brother and me; Colin becoming a professional percussionist and me playing the trumpet through college. We have Dad to thank for this.  Dad loved musical theater and acted in several local productions including Pirates of Penzance, Fiddler on the Roof and Annie Get Your Gun.  He worked for a while as a professional cowboy poet – he was the greatest story teller.  And Dad was especially fond of American history, in particular the west.  From civil war battles to Indian lore, dad knew it all.  His love for the West eventually led him to Arizona and the Prescott area.  Dad even competed in rodeo, during his younger years of course.

He was an artist…most recently using an airbrush, but for a very long time, doing leatherwork.  He was so good at his leatherwork that he built a small business around it called Custom Cowboy Creations.  If you’ve seen his truck, you know the logo.  He was also a skilled carpenter; always willing to help out friends or family with the latest home project.  I’ll always cherish my late night phone calls asking him for project advice.  Dad, you made the world a better place.

Dad was always the life of the party, no matter how big or how small.  He could talk to someone in 5 minutes like he knew them a life-time.  He was good at making people laugh, and was even better at his own laugh.  I can’t think of a more genuine, deep from the belly, smile from ear-to-ear and sparkling-in-his-eyes laugh…the thought of it will always bring a smile to my face.  If you ever want to know what made him laugh, just watch one of his favorite movies: “The Party” with Peter Sellers or “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” with Steve Martin and John Candy.  I’ve seen dad cry a few times; a couple of these times were while watching these movies.  He laughed a lot with us, some of the best times during our holiday game sessions of Cranium or Scattegories.

Dad was a great father for so many reasons.  He was proud of his ancestry and passed this on to us.  He taught himself to play the bagpipes and drove Colin several hours a week to play drums in the Washington Scottish Bagpipe Band.  We attended concerts, dinners, balls and countless Highland Games to watch the caber toss and Shetland Sheepdog competitions.

Dad would haven given the world to my brother and me if he had it.  And even if he didn’t have it, he still tried to give it to us.  As the years pass, I become more and more aware of how much he provided for us – unquestionably, he made it his #1 priority to make sure we were happy, even if things weren’t going his way.  I remember one Christmas when our bikes disappeared in the weeks leading up to the holiday.  On Christmas morning, Colin and I had brand new refurbished bikes waiting for us next to the tree.   Dad had taken our bikes to the rescue squad and worked countless hours to paint them in our favorite colors, install new parts and put custom number plates on the front – Colin had a big #1 on his purple bike and I had a big #2 on my gold bike.  When he had nothing, we never knew it.  He made us feel like the richest kids on earth.  I’ll miss dad’s big hugs and loving smiles, but I’ll miss his love most of all.  Dad, you made the world a better place.

I always think of Dad on July 4^th.  Dad owned a yellow aluminum canoe for as long as I can remember.  While we were in elementary school, Dad realized that our yellow canoe was our chance to see the fireworks at the National Mall in Washington D.C.; from a pristine location.  So the four of us, life jackets and paddles in hand, loaded up the canoe and set sail in the Potomac River just west of the Kennedy Center.  There we where, afloat, in the dark, among dozens of motor yachts ten times our size.  It remains one of my fondest memories ever.  Dad, once again, made us feel like there were no boundaries; like we could do anything and have a great time doing it.  I’ll always smile on July 4^th, thinking of Dad, while I watch the Capital fireworks on TV wishing I were with him in our yellow canoe.

It’s hard to find words to convey the overwhelming sense of loss since my father’s passing.  I find myself struggling with the feeling that something that was so definite is now gone.  I can’t think of anything or anyone that was such a constant in my life.  If I called, he picked up the phone.  If I needed something, he would provide it.  He was always the person I could count on… he was such an amazing person in so many ways.

I find some comfort knowing that Dad isn’t completely gone… part of him is all around us.  He left my brother and me new family and friends in all of you.  He left me my brother and my mother.  Most importantly, he left me who I am today.  I am proud of what I’ve accomplished in life and who I am.  This was my father’s greatest gift to me.  There is the saying that we are a product of our environment.  Dad thanks for my life, my values and all the wonderful memories.  In the future, when I am the most happy I will remember you and know that I have you to thank.  I am who I am today because I knew you…

I miss you, Dad.  And I love you even more.  I always have and always will.