A collection of Facebook posts about my family…

Dad’s 90th Birthday

When folks ask if
I’m ever fearful
when I travel,
I always say no,
and I mean it.
If they ask me why,
I usually shrug and smile,
but I know the reason:
I get it from my dad.
Not fearless, mind you—
that would be foolhardy—
but not fearful
of people and places
because they’re different
and problems and pitfalls
because they’re difficult.
He taught me by example,
much more than by words:
to be alert and attentive,
to be patient and principled,
to be rational and reasonable…
to play the best hand,
whatever the cards dealt,
whatever the game played.
Lindy David McTier,
you raised four children
to be not fearful of the world,
but rather to experience it,
to be not fearful of life,
but rather to embrace it.
Thank you.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
I love you.

Mother’s Day 2017

She cried when she spanked me;
she was mother, not friend.
She chid me to think first,
lest my tongue offend.
She chored me at all hours,
to duty my part.
She bade made me take care,
my youngers for start.
She frowned at my knee jerks
as ‘oft as my late.
She praised rare if ever,
when good wasn’t great.
She forced me to see past
what comforts would seem.
She left me in boredom
to wrestle my dream.
She taught me that love comes not
from holding my hand.
She loosed me to find all
the I’m that I am.
My thanks to my mother.
I would have no other.

Aunt Doris (Death)

Those Mandarin oranges from tiny tins,
and brain-freeze corner-store slurpees
and musk-scented Avon soaps-on-ropes,
and “scooter-pootin’,” as she called it,
in her big Crown Victoria
(or was it an LTD?)
as we’d turn a day’s errands drive
into an unexpected adventure…
All were gifts that only she could give me.
But none could surpass this—
not then nor now:
She knew I was different
(in so many ways),
or “special,” as she called it,
and she told me so,
and she cherished me for that.
She’d smile, and hug me close,
and whisper in my ear,
“One day, you’ll be on Broadway!”
No, that wasn’t my plan or my path,
but her love and belief in me
worked magic just the same.
Good bye, Aunt Doris.
Scooter-pootin’ in heaven
will be such fun!

Dad’s 89th Birthday

Today my father turns 89,
so many years beyond what he expected.
I am thankful he still is with us,
as husband, father, and opa.
I am thankful he still enjoys a quality of life
that makes his life worth living.
I am thankful he continues to teach me
about what it means to grow older,
when you have led a decent and productive life,
and what it means to be old,
when you have the courage, patience, and faith
to embrace, rather than fear, the inevitable.
These are invaluable but difficult lessons…
and I am learning from the best.
Happy birthday, Dad.
I love you.

Dad’s 88th Birthday

Today is my father’s 88th birthday. Dad was an Army pilot who flew chinooks into battle zones to recover downed aircraft and machinery. He never thought or spoke of himself as a warrior or hero; he was just a regular guy doing his duty the best he could and with as much integrity as possible. This is one of my favorite pics of him taken during either his first or second tour of Vietnam. When I travel on my own, as I frequently do, this image of my courageous, adventurous, and peaceful father inspires and guides me. Happy birthday, Dad. I love you.

Dad’s 87th Birthday

June 12. Today is my father’s 87th birthday. As a child, I rarely understood him; as an adult, I rarely agreed with him. So different in ways that really don’t matter; so alike in ways that really do. What he taught me as a child and continues to teach me can be summed up in one word: integrity. To work hard and always do my best, to treat others with honesty and respect, to take responsibility for myself and hold true to my word, to let my actions speak louder than my words, to make the best with whatever I have today, while always building for a better tomorrow.

Dad, I am thankful and honored to be your son. May I one day be the man that you are. Happy birthday. I love you.

Mom’s 86th Birthday (August 28, 2014)

LOVE LETTERS. Today, my mother, Jeanette Thorson McTier, turns 86. I’d like to share something about my mom that many of you may not know. When I left for college in 1977, Mom began writing me a weekly letter (phoning was too expensive back then) that quickly became a weekly family letter as the rest of the kids moved away. When she got a computer, the letter was emailed. With only a few weeks missed during illness, she has written us a weekly letter—her testament of love for her family—for over 37 years now. For me, every one of them is a love letter. Thank you, Mom, and Happy Birthday!!!