My uncle Mickey was one of the first men I met who was truly *gentle* with me and playful as I was. His hugs were so encompassing, like no danger or harm could reach me in his arms. All my childhood cares were swept away when I was with him and he made my soul rise up and catch fire. I thank God for his love, it was a wonderful gift to me and transformed my heart.
William D. “Mickey” Rowe, 83, of Vandergrift passed away peacefully surrounded by his family on Friday, May 29, 2015 in his home.
My aunt Martha Maglocci turned 90 years old this past Sunday – Tammi and I were able to attend. My photos and an audio clip are included. Please leave comments!
A poetic eulogy for my mother.
As the year draws to a close and families gather together, we offer our warmest greetings and best wishes for a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Doug, Tammi and Kylie Sugar, Kona, Dozer and Kinkles too! Our Christmas photo albums Absolutely no trees were harmed to produce this cardalthough a lot of electrons were
written by: Tommy Dunbar, Kyle Vincent; Lyrics © Bob-A-Lew Songs, Cohen and Cohen
I had the good fortune to meet Scott’s widow Tammi eight years after his death. Even at that huge distance of time I could feel what a good man he must have been. I wish I could have met him but I’m grateful that his legacy has come to me to preserve and protect. It’s an honor to be associated with the Hofferber family. Rest in peace Scott, you are fondly remembered and greatly missed.
For my father, George Wray. You are sorely missed this season.
I think I have a faint grasp now of what that first haircut day must be like for a parent. One difference, your single-digit aged child can’t rip someone’s arm off if they panic and go bonkers.
I’m not Byron but I, too, have loved a dog.
Eulogies, photos and remembrances for my brother-in-law David C. Hill.
Miss you dad.
Our family Christmas card for 2010.
One of my favorite places at the University of Colorado was the High Voltage Electron Microscope lab in the Molecular, Cellular and Developmental Biology building.
Oh migawd. Go look.
A poem I wrote for my second wife Marilyn after the death of her mother. It has double meaning for me now that she is gone as well. Thanks to my friend Libby Miller for the inspiration.
Rocky Mountain National Park celebrated it’s 95th anniversary today. Marilyn and I loved the Park. I still do. Here’s some photos from her memorial event there
This is from Marilyn’s friend Kris via her friend Karen and thence her friend Paula to me. I confess I have been remiss in posting this. Each time I looked at the pictures the pain came back – so I filed the message away ‘for another day.’ That day has come, it’s time to say
This is Tammi’s first email to me – submitted through my personal site. It all started right here. Just wanted to make a mark in time so we’d remember.
Today would have been our 11th anniversary. Missing you terribly today wife.
From our last vacation. Half Moon Bay in California. Marilyn was as happy as a little girl. She wrote that in the sand with her finger and was literally chortling with glee. My homage to my beloved wife, written on the same beach. Taken by my friend DJ as I scattered some of Marilyn’s ashes.
One of the sights DJ and Martha took me to see was Pigeon Point Lighthouse. WOW. Reviewing my photos so far I was struck by this shot most of all. (More of this location here) This has been an incredibly stormy period in my life and were it not for the ‘lighthouses’ manned by my
I refer you to this post. Now that you and my beloved wife have all the time in the universe to get acquainted, I hope the two of you can see how much I cared for you both. Both of you taught me lessons about courage and honesty – and how they’re inextricably linked. You
Working from home this week, trying to re-establish the rhythm of my life. I have a photo of Marilyn above my home office desk and more than once I simply sat and looked at it. More than once I just sat and wept. Feeling miserable, about to call for help I saw my friend Jim
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. Edith Wharton, Vesalius in Zante US novelist (1862 – 1937) Note – everything in this photo is significant: The chalice holding the candle is one that’s been in Marilyn’s family for generations. The candle itself from the supply
Marilyn and a truck on Alcatraz island, San Francisco, CA. She really was like an old truck: front end shimmied, rear end grumbled, lots of dings and rattles, would never turn over on a cold morning… and I just loved long drives with her. I even miss the backfires. sigh
Marilyn Bonita Wray (née Lawrence) June 16, 1951 – May 14, 2009 Born to Clyde and Geraldine Lawrence (née England) in Caldwell, ID. An active equestrienne in her youth, Marilyn was a trained vocalist and enthusiastic guitarist, an active church member and beloved babysitter. She attended Boise State University, graduating with a Masters in Criminal
Marilyn was the light of my life. Things got so dark when she went. Today my Uncle Les called and we talked about life and how things went in his life after his wife Bobbie died. It was wonderfully reassurring and comforting. Thank you Uncle Les. You’ve always been my image of the perfect husband.
December 11th, 2008 Marilyn got a hospital bed for her back, which had been really acting up before her diagnosis with lymphoma. She had been using the oxygen concentrator for some time and I’d just had cable service installed in her room. Looks just like a hospital room. I’ve said how much -I- didn’t like
I’m a geek. No apologies. Weird stuff gets stuck in my head. The StarTrek: The Next Generation episode “Family” featured Picard and his brother singing a French song together after fighting and then reconciling / drinking. The refrain was all I could remember: Auprès de ma blonde, qu’il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon… SO…
This Pluggers cartoon hit a nerve. sigh
From my cousin Joe in PA: (note, all images click to enlarge) While camping in the Adirondacks last week, a rattler made the mistake of landing on our campsite. He learned real quick, you don’t mess with my Dad. Even at 79, he’s a force to be reckoned with! My uncle Les is such a
George Parker Wray March 9, 1928 – May 21, 2008 He was: Son Brother Cousin Uncle Husband Father Grandfather Great-grandfather and Craftsman Technician Mentor Friend. In his life he walked many roads, from the unpaved roads of Spring Church Pennsylvania to the bustling streets of numerous cities; Pittsburgh, San Diego, Denver and more. He lived