There are Halls of Fame for all the things that belong in the toy department of life. Think of it. There's a baseball hall of fame, football and others. These are things that really don't matter a whole lot in the scheme of the larger questions of life.
If there was a hall of fame for parents, my mother, Frieda M. Thorp, would be there. There's no doubt in my mind. She loved unconditionally and never accepted letting down or quitting as an option.
My mom met my dad while visiting my aunts then boyfriend turned husband at a Navy base out east. This happened as World War II was ending. My dad--Claude H. Thorpe--was a ship's carpenter. He was from Duchess County, New York, lived in New York City and had been married once before. My mom was born and raised on a farm in the Thumb of Michigan.
Right after the war,, they married and settled in Bay City, Michigan where I was born in 1946. My dad stuck around for 18 months and then he was gone.