My Dad

Listening to Enya, thought I'd blog about my Dad.

He was a strong, stubborn man. He loved to have fun with everything in life. I think that's where I got it.

He died in December, 2001. Lung cancer, CHF, who knows. He lived his life in defiance of norms. Had his own motorcycle club back in the 1970's. Big Mabel Murphy Motorcycle Club. We used to party with the Devil's Advocates. Pig roasts, drag races, the whole nine yards.

Mom was always at his side, supporting the charmingly devious Murph. He loved to drink and smoke. As youngsters, my sister and I would ride from Appleton to Door County to our second home with Mom and Dad chain-smoking. We used to beg them to open the windows so we could breathe. I had athsma as a kid, and the parents used to wonder why I had an attack after an hour breathing cigarette smoke!

Dad grew up in a retirement home run by his Dad, and later grew up to become a nursing home administrator. I followed in his footsteps. 13 years running nursing homes, and eventually taking over the one he ran for 30-plus years. Got written up in the paper and everything. It was very cool.

After spending years at that home, with coffee cup always in hand, Dad got to see me run the place for five and a half years. He was so proud.

Then his health worsened. Secretly I wonder if my divorce did him in. He went in for a routine test and never recovered. I remember his last gaze into my eyes in that hospital bed. He looked like he wanted to go home. I'm glad it was fast for him even though I spent my first career running places like that to which he probably would have eventually gone.

Dad, you're still in my dreams, and that's a good thing. I know your watching my life. Sometimes you must wonder what the hell I'm doing. So do I. But you see the really good side of my life too. Thank you for having me. You created me, and I've had the miracle of seeing my own two girls born and begin to mature. None of that would have happened without you.

I Love You.