My Dad was a Boulder Valley rancher, through and through. The 12th child of second-generation Irish valley ranchers, he spent his younger days carefree on the ranch, where his siblings were his best friends. At a young age, his greatest pleasure was to ride the old workhorse Strawberry while his dad and brothers worked in the fields. He always had a puppy, a bottle calf or a bum lamb at his side.
In the frigid January of 1941, the family home burned to the ground. Very few possessions survived, and for the rest of his life, Dad would think of a childhood treasure and remark that it had been lost in the fire. His family relocated to another house on the ranch where he would eventually raise his own family.
He played basketball and football in high school and always told stories of his favorite coaches and teammates. We laughed at stories he told of tormenting teachers and wonderful field trips he took, some not officially sanctioned nor approved. One day he skipped school to go to an auction sale. When he arrived, the first person he ran into was his dad. Needless to say, that field trip was probably not approved.
Two winters in Butte for business college introduced him to life in the city — and to a corresponding yearning, always, to get back to the ranch. But he was drafted into the United States Army in 1952 and spent a year in Korea, returning in 1954. While not a path he would have chosen, he was very proud to have served his country. During his time in the military, he made close friends in his artillery unit and kept in touch with them all until their dying days.
On June 23, 1958, Dad married Helen Greutman, whom he had spotted waiting tables at a church dinner. From that moment, they were a team. They raised eight children while building a ranch, struggling during tough years and rejoicing in good years. Through all, his family never went without what they needed.
He was always generous in all he did, but never asked for praise or expected recognition. He supported FFA and 4-H in every way he could, often buying burgers by the dozens to feed the kids at the Madison Jefferson County Fair in Twin Bridges and rodeos across the state.
He was a hard worker, and he expected the same of us, involving the whole family in all areas of ranching together. From the time we children were toddlers, he took us along when changing sprinkler pipes, moving cows, putting out salt, or feeding. He gave us all the opportunity to form our own memories so that one day we might enjoy reminiscing the way he did.
Dad loved visiting with folks, and in his remaining years, as life was slowing down, he enjoyed the visitors who stopped by to see him. He always made sure everyone had a pop and a candy bar. His stash of See’s and Russell Stover candy was always a favorite for his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren alike. And to the end, his wonderful sense of humor bubbled up and ran over when playing tricks on friends and siblings.
The VA home-based health care program enabled his family to care for him at home and hold him tight until his last breath at the age of 93.
This was a favorite of his:
Irish Prayer
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
The rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
