Good-bye Dad

The purpose of the endeavor was twofold. 

Since the price of  huckleberries had skyrocketed to $50/gallon, Bruce thought we should just go pick our own  AND he thought we should try our luck on Government Mtn.  Now, Government Mountain is the mountain my parents beheld from the back porch of their home on Bull River (My mother used to call it Bettina, because she thought the ridge-line looked like an Indian maiden asleep on her back).  Because of the significance to the family, we thought this would be the perfect opportunity and place to spread some of Dad's ashes.  So, off we went.

Ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you I'm not a big fan of Forest Service roads.  This one was no exception, with hairpin curves, sheer drop offs, deep ruts, and dust that threatened to choke you. At one point, we met a car coming down, and were forced to back up the truck until the narrow path widened enough for the other vehicle to squeeze by us. EEK! BUT the scenery was breathtaking.

and the wildflowers were still in bloom.

 

Indian Paintbrush

(anyone know the name of this yellow flower?)

and my favorite....

fireweed.

We stopped to look at this magnificent view, and noticed this...

 a small, handmade marker.
Bruce and I looked at each other, and turned to look over the impressive panorama.  I think we both came to the conclusion, simultaneously, that Bob, be he man or beast, would be good company for Dad, and that Dad would be pleased to share this spot for all eternity.

With prayers of gratitude, and great love, we released Dad to the wind, the trees, the mountains.

We love you, Dad.  Show him the ropes, Bob.

We drove awhile- quiet with our thoughts.

Bruce pointed out how close we were to my Mom and Dad's old house, Windrush.  Just over that mountain ridge.

It looked like a good place to pick huckleberries...

and so, we started in...

We picked about an hour and a half before our old backs couldn't take it anymore!

Our hands were PURPLE! LOL!

but, we got a good haul- probably a gallon!

It was time to head back home-
I feel good knowing where Dad is- knowing he would approve.  He's close to Mom, close to the home he loved, and is now, roaming the woods and mountains he cherished once again.
Good-bye, Dad.
We'll visit soon.

Now THAT'S a dinner!

Garden fresh peapods, carrots, yellow crooked neck, and zucchini - picked, and cooking within 10 mins!  Add some sliced peppers, and grilled chicken, and toss with soy sauce, a teaspoon of sugar, a bit of ginger, and some garlic, and VOILA!  a dinner to swoon over!  :)    I LOVE having a garden.

In Memoriam

Quinn Robert Prichard 

August 15, 1918-July 15, 2011

(there is some contention whether he was born Quintin Robert Prichard, or Quentin Robert Prichard- but as the years went by, he just went by the name of Quinn).

My father was born Aug. 18, 1918 in Hornick, Iowa, the second child/first son born to Clyde and Etta Prichard.

Dad had a big sister, Marian-

and two younger brothers-

Stan

and Kenny

incidently- Marian and Ken are still alive.  :)

Dad had a wonderful childhood-

 

Hunting, fishing, roaming the countryside barefoot.

(Dad is the one on the right- 7 yrs. old)

He played baseball (Dad is third from the right on the bottom row), and football, and probably every other sport he and his friends could think up. 

He attended Morningside College in Iowa, and was Editor for the college newspaper.  It was there that he hired two columnists to work for him- twins Eppie and PoPo who later became better known as Dear Abby, and Ask Ann Landers.  Years and years later, when Dad was in his 70's, he wrote to them, and they responded that they would never forget their first Editor.

But it was in college that he met someone else-

Thuma was his college room-mate's sister, and she was smart, clever, beautiful, spunky and destined to become his bride. They married on New Year's Eve 1939.

After the heartbreak of losing their firstborn child, Perrin Quinn, they had three, healthy daughters in quick succession.

(shown here, left to right- Candi, Marcy and Sherry)

Dad started up his own commercial art business- Quinn Prichard Advertising

 He became a highly successful businessman, and eventually, I was born.

Dad still loved all sports- tennis, baseball, golf, hunting, fishing- he even did some cross country skiing, and snowmobiling in Montana.

Mom and Dad bought a cabin in Canada when I was just 18 mos. old.  The family would spend several weeks every summer and fall in Ontario, which began our love affair with Canada.

The years went by- Dad sold the place in Canada, and bought Windrush- initially, a 200 acre ranch on the Bull River in Montana.

Dad had a huge garden, of course- and he painted, did sculptures, and ceramics.  He even made a putting green, and practiced playing golf.

These were very happy years, until Thuma died in 1993.  Eventually, Dad remarried, and moved to Canada- and we hear that he had a very happy life there.  He certainly made many wonderful friends.

And he kept painting-

He painted this one when he was 83!!!

This one might be my favorite-  or, maybe the one below.

I think he got better with age.

What would I like you to know about my Dad?  He was funny, and he was fun. When he would babysit me, we made milkshakes and had block wars, and he always put my pajamas on backwards. He was witty- a consummate storyteller who could hold large audiences in the palm of his hand.  He never met a stranger. He was creative- he could draw anything, make the best presentations, and had some of the best ideas which really came in handy when school projects were due. He was smart, but also, naive especially when it came to people.  He was a wonderful Daddy, and a great Grampa.  He was my Dad, and I love and miss him very much.