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DEL.ICIO.USFrom our home — to Dad’s new home
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Family photo
Readers, friends and family, You’re response to this column has been overwhelming. I’m so glad that you have taken the time to tell me the stories of your parents and families and the tough decisions you have had to make. I hope everyone who reads them will come away from the experience feeling better about their relationships with their parents. Like poster fk, if you have a chance, get on a plane, get in the car or just pick up the phone and call home, wherever that may be. Your parents will love hearing from you, for sure. In a subsequent column, I plan to recount some of the stories you sent me. To those of you I have never met, you feel like family now. Welcome to the clan. To the personal and family friends who sent me messages — Patty, Joey, Holly, Jan, Ronnie, Connie, Walt & Ann and Eddie Reese, among others — thanks for your willingness to go public with your affection for dad and for me and for those days on Larkspur Drive. It means a lot. And to my immediate family; Jeremy and Chris, Anne, Katie and Patrick: we are what we are because of the strong, faithful people who came before us. We owe them so much and we show them great respect by doing our best by living life every day to the fullest. I love all of you. Some of you suggested there might be some good Jimmy King stories I could tell. (Too many, actually, for one sitting.) But here’s one from just last year that I’ll leave you with:
Just before St. Patrick’s Day on a visit to Marietta, Jeremy, Dad and I went to my favorite pub, Johnnie McCracken’s, for a pint. The waitress, a cute, young thing, took a shine to Dad immediately and they hit it off all night as she shuttled between tables. He clearly enjoyed that she was doting on him whenever she came by and finally I told her to pay no attention to the old man. “Oh, but he’s so cute,� she says. Without missing a beat, he replies: “Yeah, but will you say that when the babies come?� Jimmy King. In da house!!!! Eighty-three years of age and still charming the women folk.
Thanks again to all of you for writing. /i>
By Mike King
Last Thursday night, we shared what’s likely to be our last meal together in that house — that kitchen — in Jeffersonville, Ind. And we did it in typical King family fashion.
My sister brought a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken to eat with my dad at his home. I got in from Atlanta after they had finished. I had a drumstick and a few bites of cold baked beans and mashed potatoes. My brother didn’t arrive until later in the evening from his monastery 75 miles away in southern Indiana. We all had ice cream bars that my dad had stowed away in his nearly barren refrigerator.
It was always like that, it seems, in our house. We ate in shifts. Rarely did the five of us sit down together for the same meal.
My brother was off to the seminary at age 13, so we only saw him during summers. On many nights, my mother would warm up some leftovers from the school cafeteria where she worked and then head off to choir practice or some other church activity. Since my dad owned a business in the west end of Louisville, Ky., across the river, he got home in time for dinner with the rest of us once or twice a week. Some nights he’d be at an Optimist Club meeting or maybe at the Knights of Columbus.
Since my mother died nearly seven years ago, my siblings and I have known the day would come when my dad would no longer be able to stay in the house he had built for us 50 years ago. So, we gathered to help James Patrick King (Jimmy, as his older relatives always called him), 84, move decades of memories into an assisted living facility.
The frustrations, the fear of living alone and the loss of companionship had overwhelmed him. Over the last year or so — especially in the last two months — he had turned inward, afraid of becoming an invalid. At times, he was unfriendly. Anyone who knows Jimmy King knows that’s not him.
When mom got sick, it shook his world deeply. The center collapsed for him when she died, at home, after a long bout with cancer. It’s no coincidence that his worst days since then have come every February — the month they celebrated her birthday (she would have been 81) and their anniversary (61 years, had she lived).
Even now, he guards her dreams.
When I was going through the house over the weekend, I found the rosary I had as a child. “Your mother saved it for you,” he said. “I figured you didn’t have one.” (He was right.)
I also found some black-and-white pictures of us that were taken about the time we moved into the house.
That’s my sister and me in our Easter outfits; the big-finned, blue-and-white Chevrolet Bel-Air in the driveway parked in front of the “carport” of the house (which, I swear, hardly ever sheltered a car); and the big side yard where he could never get grass to grow because of the bare spots we wore in it every summer.
We were — and remain — an inordinately happy and stable family. That’s largely due to his influence — his loyalty, his fidelity, his love.
The Rev. Theodore Hesburgh, the former president of Notre Dame, once said: “The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.” For my father, paternal success was always that simple.
Now, my dad had wrung every bit of secure living he could get out of the little, three-bedroom, one-bath ranch in the prototypical 1950s American subdivision. He never really said he was proud of that house. He’s not the kind of man to put emotional value on objects.
But I know that the house sustained us in good times and bad. “Bad” meaning those times when he mortgaged and remortgaged it to keep his business afloat, and later, when my mom spent her final days there, tended by hospice nurses. “Good” meaning … well, just about every other waking moment of our lives while we dwelled in it.
I also know we are immensely proud of what he worked so hard to accomplish — of how comfortable and safe and happy we were. I am grateful for the ways in which his acts of fatherhood have stood up for me, and influenced me, over the years.
Now, my father enters a new phase of his life. The assisted living facility looks to be a great place — exactly what he needs right now. He’s a gregarious man who needs to be around people, a born entertainer, a man who expects to be the focal point when he enters a room.The elderly ladies at the center could benefit from his charm — and he their attention.
As I turned the thermostat down and locked the door, I realized it was never really about the house or about us sitting down together for dinner. It was about him and how he had always adhered to Hesburgh’s counsel. He deserves a chance to be happy and free of fear the way we were when we were children.
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By Patty Ogden
February 22, 2006 08:51 PM | Link to this
Mike, You made me feel like I was back home in Jeffersonville. What a tribute to your father and your life! I am quite sure the choice your family made, while difficult, will bring new joys and challanges that he will face with the courage and grace he taught all of you! Patty Ogden
By Joey Bruce
February 22, 2006 10:53 PM | Link to this
Hi Mike—I ate at Cunningham’s the other day and as always—I thought of you when I saw the waiter that you always had there—-Your article is great and it all sounds so familiar to me and my family—Southern Indiana at it’s best! Your Dad is in the right place and you guys have done the right thing—Thanks for the memories. Joey
By greg sorrow
February 23, 2006 08:37 AM | Link to this
Thank you for your article. Your dad reminds me of my mother. She was put in an assisted living facility but had to be moved back home because she kept wandering off the grounds. She finally got bad enough to be put in a nursing home and now she doesn’t have long to live. Spend as much time with your dad as you can and encourage you siblings to also. God bless all of you.
By Bob Kidd
February 23, 2006 09:13 AM | Link to this
Mike. Your story brought tears to my eyes. Even though my parents divorced long ago,I remember the same feelings you do. Feeling safe. Everything would be all right,as long as Dad was there. The summers he spent on Army Reserve Duty for 2 weeks tore me up! I missed him so much. To this day,I don’t think he knows how much I missed him while he was gone. Thank God,I still have my parents. I tell my Mom and Dad I love them every chance I can. And GOD be with your Dad,you and your family.
By Nicole
February 23, 2006 09:18 AM | Link to this
This article is inspiring and I hope your father enjoys his new home and new journey in life. I’m sure you all will continue to visit and even receive counsel from Jimmy.
By Steve SC
February 23, 2006 09:23 AM | Link to this
You had to be there. Everyone’s experience is a little different. Five years ago, when we had to move my mother-in-law out of her house in Fort Worth and transfer her to an assisted living facility in South Carolina, both my wife and I held up pretty well. I was the one who cracked. As a friend and I were doing the final loading on our U-Haul truck, I got tears in my eyes and said, “John, this is the end of the home where my wife grew into the woman she’s become.” Once in a lifetime is enough for something like that.
By teacher
February 23, 2006 09:27 AM | Link to this
This was beautifully written. I honestly felt that I was there with you. I am in my early 30s but have older parents. I know that one day, my siblings and I will be faced with the same. In my case, both of my parents have serious health problems with my mom being in a wheelchair.
I am sorry, I just seem to be at loss for words here…just remember the good times for I intend to MAKE more good times to remember..
GOD bless.
By GB
February 23, 2006 09:52 AM | Link to this
My elderly father passed away before my eyes. I’m blessed that I got to tell him I loved him every day when I visited him in the nursing home or hospital. It is vital to let him know. Having done that I can deal with the grief of losing him.
By Ex-Northerner
February 23, 2006 09:53 AM | Link to this
You were lucky, Mike, in that your dad went willingly. We had to wait until my mother had lost enough through dementia that she would be unable to fight us. I only hope I can remember how difficult she made our lives and go willingly myself when my niece says it’s time. Enjoy him while you can. I’m sure the ladies will welcome him with open arms.
By Alva Hartry
February 23, 2006 10:09 AM | Link to this
Thanks for sharing your message. I am going through something similar now. Being an only child and having to make most of the decisions on everything: the sale of the house, the cleaning, the moving, etc. is driving me crazy. The only way I think that I can deal with all of it to take a leave of absence from work. My mom contracted pneumonia four years ago and has been staying with me off and on. She also has bouts with rheumatoid arthritis. She really is not as sick and she thinks she is. However, she has lost confidence in doing certain things. Therefore, I’m her mind and her voice. She really wants to live on her own in a senior living community. I really trying to make that happen, but, once again, I will have to initiate it. As mentioned before, thanks for your message. It will allow me to continue to be strong.
By your children's mother
February 23, 2006 10:23 AM | Link to this
Thanks for loving your children’s mother all these years… you are a saint. It has been a gift to me as well as your children.
I hope we have created the same “home” for our kids.
And let’s hope it is a long time before they have to deal with a similar situation with us!!!
By joan
February 23, 2006 10:29 AM | Link to this
There is nothing nice about growing old. Giving up everything you have ever worked for and days without pain is what it is about. Our system makes it such a social and financial struggle. I bet that if only the elderly got to vote for or against assisted suicide we would have that as an accepted practice in this country.
By Jim
February 23, 2006 10:45 AM | Link to this
I was a late in life child, both parents were in their mid-forties when I was born so I was always accustomed to having parents that were older than my friends parents. My dad died at age fifty-seven, I was still very young. At age seventy my mother had terminal cancer, a very rapid and consuming type in the lungs, brain, spine, liver and one kidney. Before I could make arrangments to have her put into a hospice she entered a hospital for radiation tratement, the only type treatment she would agree to, no chemo. She was very worried about her house and what would happen to it, and her little nest egg of savings and insurance. In some ways the three shorts weeks she lived after her diagnosis was a relief from her constant worrying. I was holding her hand and talking to her when she passed on. Going back to her house the day she died was the hardest thing I ever had to do up until that point in my life. Everything happened so fast, she still had leftover food in the frig, food she expected to eat. My wife and I are going through something similar with her mom now, she has advanced alzhiemers and will soon be placed into a 24 hour care facility. I am one of the few men that can honestly say I love my mother in law like my own mom and its killing me to see her this way. She was so fun and independent just a few short years ago. Given the choice, I am so glad my own mom didn’t have to go through what my mother in law will go through.
By Ronnie
February 23, 2006 10:49 AM | Link to this
Hi Mike, This article hits home in several ways. As you know, Vince also adhered to Hesburgh’s counsel. There is a part of me that can relate to Jimmy King. The fear, loss of companionship and the urge to build a wall areound myself. Thank you Mike, Anne and the kids for not allowing that to happen to me. I love you all, Ronnie
By Janet
February 23, 2006 11:44 AM | Link to this
I visit the “Opinions� on a regular basis. I comment when I have something to share.
Geeeezzzzz yall, this morning when I visited all I could do is cry. Too close to home it was.
February 2002, Mama passed, Daddy passed in 1966. My Mama’s grandfather was Samuel P. Jones, the Southern Evangelist from Cartersville. He passed away when Mama was 16 years old.
June 2002, my man’s Aunt Jean was taken to an Assisted Living Care Home. A control-freak woman that knew Aunt Jean made a false complaint to Department of Family and Children Services.
There was a rumor that Aunt Jean had over $500,000.00. The elderly sometimes tell “stories�. That is what it was a “story�.
Aunt Jean widowed 1966, no children, never remarried. Nephew came from Wisconsin to GA early 70’s. They were extremely close. As Senior Vice President Securities of Wachovia puts it in a deposition “She was very protective of him�, “More than an aunt Nephew relationship…more like Mother and Son or Grandmother and Grandson�. We loved Aunt Jean dearly.
Without an investigation of any kind, there was an Emergency Hearing for an Alleged Gravely Incapacitated Adult at Northlake Emory Hospital where Aunt Jean was being held and kept from family members.
The Durable Power of Attorney, Healthcare Power of Attorney, etc that been appointed by Aunt Jean to her loving nephew to protect them from these things, thrown out and he was told that he had abused his Aunt and misappropriated her funds.
A DeKalb Probate Associate Judge who does not have jurisdiction and or authority to make this determination made this judgment. Probate Judges do not have jurisdiction concerning felonies.
The loving nephew has never been investigated, arrested, charged or convicted of the alleged crimes.
Aunt Jean lived four houses down, the house was set up with emergency alerts, handicapped accessories, items suggested by therapists in order for her to remain at home. She had a primary doctor approve of her care, she had wonderful care.
Aunt Jean had been diagnosed a year before with Symbolic Disorder, mid-mild cognitive, suffered from extreme Macular Degeneration.
When we realized that this was a “money� thing, we froze our accounts at Wachovia. The Temporary Emergency Court Appointed Guardian of Aunt Jean’s estate changed the address on our accounts, changed the names on our accounts-stocks-Mutual funds, sold Mutual Funds, stole $15,000.00 cash, closed our checking account, etc. $400,000.00 stolen from us.
When we found that our “frozen� accounts had been manipulated by the Temporary Guardian, he filed suit against the nephew claiming financial fraud. That tied up the bank and securities information. Wachovia would release no records at that point. Of course they were guilty themselves for what had happened to our accounts.
Aunt Jean was then hidden from all family members in Carestone Assisted Living facility in Cobb County. The nine months she was there, she fell five times. The last time caused the end of her life. She lay in the hospital five days, was cremated, buried, without family knowledge. She had made a new Will June 2002 after the Probate hearing naming the son-in-law of the woman who had made the false complaint to DFCS June 2002. He is a mail-order pastor.
Probate Hearing about the two Wills, new Doctor under oath stated when he first saw Aunt Jean “she was in good health�, “her caregivers did a good job�; “her health went down�, “she was too weak to be on a claw foot cane�; “I would not recommend the cane.� She fell while walking on a claw foot cane, that nobody gave her, nobody knows where she got it.
We are still battling. We will not give up we will not go away! I will not see this happen to any other families!
Mike, you have wonderful memories, the way it should be. I did cry for you partly because I envy you. Please remember that in a home family members need to visited and told often “I love you�. God Bless you….
I try to post things on my website about DFCS, Probate, Wills, etc. Feel free to visit: http://home.earthlink.net/~nootkabear
By Renee
February 23, 2006 11:53 AM | Link to this
My heart goes out to you, Mike. My father passed away when I was a child, my mother didn’t live long enough to wish me happy 40th birthday.
At her last hospitalization, I believed, but never voiced, she should either enter a nursing home or come live with me. Mom was a retired geriatrics nurse and had said if it came down to it, she would check herself into a nursing home instead of imposing on her children.
She was so independent, I’ve wondered if she made a decision to do neither and told the Lord to take her home. She died peacefully at the hospital after suffering for years with heart disease.
Before her house was sold, I went in and sat in her old recliner. Mom took pride in the fact all her furniture was paid for and no one could ever “back a truck up to the door and take it.” As I sat on the cream-colored upholstery, a hand-towel she’d placed protectively on the head rest still there, I wanted to feel her presence but I didn’t. A thought came to me, a voice in my head that sounded like my mother’s, but not audible…”I’m not here anymore.”
I’m not sure if that was a message I conjured or one my mother sent from beyond.
Her home was simple, 3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath brick, but she was so proud of it. Many times she said she was thankful for a roof over her head. She was also proud, and had every right to be, that she finished paying for it the last 20 years of a 30 yr mortgage (due to my father’s early death.)
I dream of that house often, I lived there 20 years. Shortly after Mom died I dreamt of her in it, cheeks rosy again and all seemed well with her.
Many of her things are still in storage and my siblings and I have not looked at family photographs in the 3+ years since she passed away. They’re safe and accessible at my sister’s house…we’re just not ready yet.
By Jim
February 23, 2006 12:18 PM | Link to this
As sad and as heart wrenching as it is to see your once proud and healthy parents succumb to old age and disease, you still have a semblance of them around. Through their lost or sunken eyes you can still catch a glimplse of that spirt that hopefully guided you in the right direction in your life. The spirit and the soul are still there, if only for a fellting second at a time. For the first couple of decades after my remaining parent died I was finishing college, getting married and raising a family of my own. My life was in constant overdrive and I felt like I was an hour late for everything I needed to do. Now our kids are grown and well on their own, with kids of their own. Our life is slower now, much more so and we are enjoying the slower pace of the afternoon of our lives, my wife and I. But, I had no idea that so many years later I would find myself missing my parents so much more and so much stronger than I did in the immediate years following their deaths. I was too busy to miss them perhaps. About every two or three years, always when I am alone at the house, I still get out my ‘box’, it’s a box of things my mom saved all her life that were important to her. Valentines and Mother Day cards I made in grade school, notes I left her. I have myself a good cry then I pack them up until the need comes again. As difficult as it may be to see them in a home and hurry and scurry around to have an hour or two to visit, try to relax and gain something from it. You’ll look back on these days soon, and as hard at it may seem now, you may miss them.
By Wayne Sellers
February 23, 2006 01:24 PM | Link to this
Thanks for sharing this life story. May God continue to shine his love and kindness on you and you’re family espcially your dad. In the winter of his life may he know that he did well in God’s eyes and those of his children…God Bless.
By Karen
February 23, 2006 02:25 PM | Link to this
What a great story. I hope many people reading this will realize the wisdom their parents and grandparents have and will value them a little more. The Christmas of of 1989 my mom and dad sent me a letter saying they were so proud of me for (finally) growing up. I was a little brat that grew into a big brat. I treasured that letter (especially) because he suddenly died of a massive heart attack that January. Now we all (sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews) make sure my mom is taken care of and is not taken for granted.
PS: To the thief that stole my old wallet with that worn out letter; you got my address and money so I know you have enough money to mail the letter back to me.
By lucky
February 23, 2006 02:42 PM | Link to this
I lost my mom a few months ago, after living with us for the about the last six months. She loved her little house my dad built, a brick cape cod with an eat in kitchen and one bath, but at 87 dementia robbed her of the ability to care for herself. She realized that she needed help and did not complain much about the new living arrangements. She related stories from the past that were fascinating and would have been lost to me otherwise. I had to hire caretakers after a major stroke, as I was working full time. She did not want the nursing home scene and routine. It was difficult but the right thing to do in our case, and I am the only surviving child. Now the little house she loved is being used by a niece, but not with the same reverence or respect, as importance is lost without sacrifice. My dad is happy to have her with him again, and all his hard work on that little house no longer matters. But life does go on as in those bright blue eyes of my granddaughter who shares her name as well as her eye color. Thank you Mike for sharing your experience, and when your parents join each other they will see that their lives well lived continue through the example they set for their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
By Holly Nichols
February 23, 2006 02:53 PM | Link to this
Dear Mike, I found this to be such a touching tribute to Jimmy. I know Jimmy’s memories of Dorothy will continue but he now will have a chance to talk about his grandkids and family to others. I also know your Mom and Margie are so proud of all that you have done for your Dad Try out those new rosary beads and I will get mine going too.Love,Holly Love, Holly
By Holly Nichols
February 23, 2006 02:56 PM | Link to this
Mike,Such a wonderful tribute to Jimmy. I am so proud of all that you have done. I just have a feeling that Jimmy will shine and all his new friends will hear great stories about the King’s.
Love, Holly
By Tena
February 23, 2006 03:03 PM | Link to this
Wow!
I am blown away by your beautiful story. I lost my Mom in 1983 and my father in 1999. Now that my children are grown and I spend a lot of time alone, I have a lot of time to reflect on great memories and what they taught me about how to handle the vesitudes of life. My Dad spent the last two years of his life in my home after a stroke. I looked at those two years as a “once in a lifetime” experience that I shall always treasure. When all is said and done, if you were fortunate enough to have a loving relationship with your parents, you are rich indeed. Thanks for sharing.
By Renee
February 23, 2006 03:10 PM | Link to this
I have teared up reading these heartfelt stories.
My husband and I have one remaining parent—his 89 yr old mother. She said when the time came to go to a home, she would go willingly and she did just that two years ago.
She did something amazing before moving—called the family to come get anything they wanted out of her home. I got a Pyrex measuring cup, a FireKing casserole dish and a Hull planter. I love to cook and it is a joy to use items she did in her kitchen.
She’s at a wonderful assisted living facility but hates the food and voices her opinion about it to the point a manager said she was an instigator and had others complaining. LOL!
Complaining isn’t a normal part of her nature and I say if you live that long, you’ve earned the right to speak your mind if you don’t like something and people should say yes ma’am.
I know the pain of having lost both parents and I so dread that day for my husband. He adores his mother. He brought us both flowers on Valentine’s Day and my mother-in-law called to tell me thank you and to say my husband said he’d bought his two best girls flowers.
He’s wise enough to bring her flowers now, while she can enjoy them and be the envy of the other residents! :-)
From all accounts she was a wonderful mother to her 7 children when they were young and she is an excellent mother-in-law. That old saying a daughter is a daughter for life but a son is a son ‘til he takes a wife doesn’t have to be so. My precious mother-in-law simply loved and accepted her sons’ wives, therefore keeping her sons and gaining 4 daughters.
Our older relatives are precious treasures and we don’t have time to take them for granted.
What “Karen” posted was so sweet—that her mother was being well taken care of—her family will certainly have no regrets when the Lord calls her mother home. Her heart will be broken, but she will know she loved her mother and treated her well this side of eternity.
By fk
February 23, 2006 03:44 PM | Link to this
A very touching article. I read it last night, but couldn’t type thru the tears. You made me homesick for family.
My parents are 82 & 86 and still live in the same cape cod style house they built in 1952. Most of my siblings live within 10 minutes of them, two live about an hour away, I have a sister in MA, and I’m in GA. In the summer, my sister and I visit simultaneously, with our families. Life revolves around that house on LI. I really can’t imagine what it will be like when my parents leave it.
My mother-in-law, 72, recently sold her home in FL. It was really the dream home of my late father-in-law. He’s been gone since 1996. She decided it was time to downsize and move on. Once she made the decision, she was almost giddy with anticipation. This is her time. Change is good.
She is renting a place for a year, and will decide what to do when the lease is up. She may come here, or go to my husband’s sister on FL’s east coast. She will not go north where the rest of his siblings are. She knows that everyone is concerned for her, and will be there when she needs us. For now, she’s still enjoying her independence.
Many months after my sister-in-law’s mother passed away, her father joined the Senior Citizen’s Center in their town. He lived with my sister-in-law and my brother, and their family. She knew immediately that he had acclimated to his single status once he joined the Center. He grew a mustache at seventy-something. He was a hot number…a single man with a license and a car. Most importantly, he had a life of his own, with friends, outside of his daughter’s family’s life.
May your dad find happiness in his new home, too. Thanks for writing this article. I’m going to check into fares and flights now.
By AMEREV
February 23, 2006 04:49 PM | Link to this
There are two things that I have learned from having to care for my aged parents. The first is that I have been able to experience some of the same joys and frustrations they must have experienced in taking care of me when I was growing. The second is that I pray that in my demonstration of love and care for my parents that my daughters are taking in what they should do for us when we are older and how to handle love under pressure.
By Ms. P
February 23, 2006 05:15 PM | Link to this
These stories were a true testiment of the love shared towards your parents. It made me sad, and yet it made me aware of what little time I may have left. So instead of complaining about my mother living with me and my family, I think I will start appreciating the time and know that we are only here for a while and when it’s time to go home to join the “Father”, our season is done. I thank each and every one for sharing your hearts. May God continue to make his presence known to each of you and your families for generations and generations.
By Lisa
February 23, 2006 05:31 PM | Link to this
Mike, this was a wonderfully touching tribute to your father. Your story speaks volumes of how a loving foundation, coupled with a loving environment provided by your parents has made all the difference in the world in ensuring you and your siblings grew to be the compassionate adults you obviously have grown to be. You have reminded me of my family (brother, mom and dad) and my childhood growing up in Lansing, MI. Although both of my parents are still living and possess all of their faculties that still allow them to lead reasonably productive lives on their own, I am still reminded of how the are aging every time I look in the mirror and see more and more gray hair on my head, as well as when I return home for a visit and see their subtle changes. I would like to think that what your family has been faced with would never happen to me (or my family), but that would be foolish on my part. Although we can never know what the future will hold, I believe it’s a waste of time to wait around for something catastrophic to happen. By sharing your personal story, you have allowed me to not only remember a very wonderful time in my life, but how important it is to enjoy those we love every minute of the day, because things have a way of changing right before our eyes; I thank you for that.
I wish you, your dad and your sibling’s peace, happiness, continued love and the support you all may need as you make this transition to a new phase of your lives.
By Cathy
February 23, 2006 06:03 PM | Link to this
This story immediately hit home with me. in 1997 I assisted my mother in selling her home of 37 years and buying a new home near my husband and I. The home she sold was one my dad purchased for cash and sight unseen by my mother when they got stationed in D.C. It’s the only home this military brat knew. When my father passed away mother stayed there an additional five years not knowing how to drive and relying on a friend or a taxi for transportation. When she moved she never looked back even once. The new home she bought was perfect for her and all the nice furnishingss a marriage of 53 years bought. There was alot of junk that was cleared out and she was so proud of making that choice to move and be independant. Now we are faced with the decision of my mothers failing health. She will reside with my huband and I and would perish in an instant if she had to go to a nursing facility full time. We will honor her wishes. A military wife of a P.O.W. deserves this. She raised five children during long absences of a spouse and came through some horrific moments in her lifetime. I hope these remainging days, months and maybe years will find her well cared for, loved and secure and still feeling independant.
By Your daughter
February 23, 2006 07:54 PM | Link to this
I love you Daddy. You continue to inspire me everyday. I couldn’t ask for two more loving parents.
It’s a disturbing thought to realize that there really is no more sense of “home” in Jeffersonville any longer. My grandparents “home”, which I have been accustomed to staying at when visiting for the past 20 years, no longer has anyone residing in it. So I know our next visit to Indiana will definitely feel awkward. Still, the thought of not walking into that old home which holds so many memories - through the back carport door into the kitchen where we, in most recent years, often would come in to find Da (grandpa) asleep in his recliner in the room nearby with The Weather Channel blasting on the tv as he attempted to wait up on us - its a hard thought to grasp. I can’t imagine how much more difficult it must be for you, Christine and Jimbo to have grown up in that home and now see it vacated. But, then again, it has never really been the same since Grandma died.
I can’t tell you how much the love, memories, stories and laughter shared between you and mom, Grandma and Da, and the rest of our extended family every time we gathered together at “home” has influenced my character as well as Pat’s. We will always have those memories to cherish and pass down.
Katie
By Ed
February 23, 2006 09:06 PM | Link to this
Mike, Thank you for sharing your visit back home in Jeff. You, Chris and Jimbo have been truly blessed with wonderful parents and other family members. No doubt Dorothy, Margie and Kitty (each with a rosary in hand) are well pleased, and watching over Jimmy.
As He brought new faith to Ireland So may He bring to you, A touch of Irish happiness In everything you do And like the good Saint Patrick May your home and life be blessed With all God’s special favors That make you happiest.
By Chris Miller
February 23, 2006 09:14 PM | Link to this
The house has not had much life in it for the last 7 years—-thanks for jogging the memories. I hope you and Anne know that you will always have a HOME at our house.
Thanks, brother for coming HOME!
Love, Christine
By Jan Paddocks
February 23, 2006 09:29 PM | Link to this
Some of my happiest days and holidays were spent with my adopted family. Jimmy and Dorothy were like family. Your article was was a wonderful tribute to your Dad. I know he will enjoy this new phase of his life but he will never forget Larkspur Drive and the wonderful memories.
By Walt and Ann Johnson
February 23, 2006 11:00 PM | Link to this
Your wonderful tribute to Jimmy brought us to tears. You, Anne and the grandkids made him and Dorothy so proud. He couldn’t stop bragging about all of you. We see Jimmy in you, Mike. Love of family, love of life. Trasure the memories, and love the new ones you will have. Although different,still treasures.
By Connie Grosse
February 24, 2006 09:24 AM | Link to this
Mike, Syd just forwarded me the article you wrote about your dad. Well done. I know the emotions you must all be feeling now, and I’m sorry that you all had to make the decision. I do feel he will be happier with people around, and that you all have made the right decision. I will make a point of stopping by to see him. Memories are what sustain us. Take care.
By Jeremy
February 24, 2006 11:12 AM | Link to this
I love you, Mike. You are a great brother and son to our dad. I am with him at this moment but he has no knowledge of the article you wrote in his honor. What a lucky man he is to have you as a son who can publish the love he had for mom and all of us. You and Christine and I are his life now and he knows we love him. He is at this moment standing right next to me writing himself a note to remember the names of the three guys he eats lunch with each day. They are his new “buddies” and looks forward to being with them each day. One of them is the man who lost his wife last week. His grandson wanted to meet you because dad had talked about you at lunch and how proud he is of your work in AJC. We know that Mom has been part of all this and she has helped us discern God’s plan from heaven. Christine and I will do our best to represent you here but now that we cannot take your place. You are with Dad each moment and he loves that!
By your son
February 24, 2006 04:03 PM | Link to this
Wow, It is hard to imagine the house in Jeffersonville no longer occupied by anyone. I always imagined the tv tuned to baseball/weather channel at a blaring volume during any hour of the day. I am going to miss traveling there for christmas and I know how much of a hassle it was for us to head up there everytime. I hope it wasn’t too much to handle letting go of the house. I’m sure it felt weird to you, I know it would feel weird getting rid “our” house. I think we all know that da “grampa” is in the right place for him. For the record, I did not cry while reading this article… P.S. I’m sure we can talk this over one of these days at the pub, you’re buying.
By Holly
February 24, 2006 04:11 PM | Link to this
Mike, Your tribute to your DAd has reached so many. Bet Oprah has you come on the show soon!
Love, Holly
By PJ Rodman
February 24, 2006 06:31 PM | Link to this
Mike, I laughed and cried while reading the tribute to Jimmy. Of course, the memories of “home” for Anne and I are eerily similar in many ways, as you know. One of the things that plucked the heartstrings the hardest was remembering the “carport”. I will always remember the Derby parties at Jimmy and Dorothy’s-held where else? The carport. I won my first $5 pot at the age of 13. I think that may have been illegal BTW.
I’m sure you remember where you first met your father-in-law. He was playing ping pong UNDER the table on the carport at the 131. As your mom always said, “Ain’t we got fun?”. We did have fun. I remember the cars too. Poor dad never could afford a good one and the carport was also where he busted many a knuckle working on a clunker. I will always remember the pink La Femme. Geez. You know, that car would probably be worth a fortune now. See, dad could make a good investment afterall. As usual,a day late and a dollar short. Your dad is a good man, and so are you. We love you. Even though you did ruin our family. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) The saddest thing though is remembering everyone together, the cousins, the aunts and uncles, the in-laws and outlaws, the neighbors you’d had for 25 years, and knowing that our kids-spread out as they are-will probably never have that. Not like that. The only thing really messed up about the Kings was that you had to live next to those damned Bottorffs! I am signing off and humming some Petty…..”she grew up in an Indiana town….” Love, PJ
By Carl & Sandy Koetter
February 25, 2006 04:47 PM | Link to this
Mike: We read the wonderful tribute you wrote about your family history. So many of us here in the area know what heartfelt contributions your mom & dad made to our community.Although closing chapters in our book of life is unsettling, the treasured memories we all cherish with our loved ones are forever embedded in our souls.
Carl & Sandy Koetter
By Fred Smart
February 26, 2006 01:15 PM | Link to this
What a nice tribute to a really great guy. We all want to leave a legacy, something that said we did more than just paid the mortgage and kept the oil clean. You are your father’s footprint and I know Jimmy’s happy and proud about that. I don’t remember the house in Jeff that well but I do remember the old house up in Utica and many a sunny day at the river’s edge. As you know, I have a sole surviving parent still living in the house where I grew up. I’m facing the same thing down the road. It’s not easy to close those kinds of doors. Take care, Michael.
By Suzanne Duncan
February 26, 2006 09:44 PM | Link to this
Hey Mike - what a nice article, it made me think of my childhood home on Mockingbird, my family and neighborhood memories. But also I recall such fond memories of your families’ home too. Being friends with Chris, I got to share in many parties, celebrations, games, dances, sleep-overs, etc. Your parents welcomed me (and so many others) and made me feel like one of the family. In the beginning I respectfully called them Mr. and Mrs. King. But soon Mr. King became KimmyJing to me as he affectionately called me KuzieSalb. And to this day - we still call each other by our beloved Pig-Latin names! I will visit him in his new home and help make sure he is happy and comfortable. Thanks for ‘jogging’ my memory. Suzie Kalb Duncan
By Dave
March 1, 2006 09:03 AM | Link to this
Here we go again. Some 6000 pilots threatening to go on strike because they are not getting their way. Go figure. Wake up fellas, once again you are not in this alone. In fact your decisions will affect the lives of more than 44,000 co-workers. Even with the concessions you are being asked to give, you’ll still stand near the top of the industry. If you haven’t noticed in the last couple of years, everything has changed. The days of super high wages are over, you might just have to get a second job, just like the rest of America. Your wives might even have to pitch in, getting a job also. I know that’s extremely hard to phantom, but it’s reality. Its time to take some responsibility and realize the old management team made some severe mistakes, not the least of which was paying Delta pilots 40% more than the market would bare. Bankruptcy is difficult for us all, most of us would love the power to make or break Delta (concede or strike). I’ll just tell you if you don’t already know, most of us would concede, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because we couldn’t live with the alternative. I know to be a pilot requires nerves of steel, however those nerves are suppose to be attached to a heart. Stop playing games with our future, Delta Air Lines is in bankruptcy, time is of the essence. Greed (Leo Mullins) got us where we are today, don’t let greed seal our fate.
Dave 20 year Delta Employee
By Amanda
March 2, 2006 05:57 PM | Link to this
My comments are a little late - I just got around to reading this. I had the same feeling while living with my folks: safe, comfortable, secure, loving. All of that in a 3 bedroom, 1 bath home. Imagine families nowadays trying to negotiate time in a bathroom (there were 4 of us then). Our house was built around the same time - right after WWII. Funny how those of us that lived during the ’50s and ’60s share similar feelings. I hope your Dad does well.