So many memories. Some of the happiest times of my life were at the ranch. You and Dad started with the idea of a horse for Terri, and ended up with a ranch, 17 horses, a goat, a rabbit, dozens of mallard ducks, a lone migrant Canadian goose, several assorted cats and dogs, and every stray, injured or orphaned animal any of us brought home. And you did the lion's share of the work. It wasn't unusual to come home and see you on the tractor mowing the pasture. You worked all the time. You took care of the animals, grew a garden, and cooked the most delicious country meals, all the while raising three teenagers – plus me - and dealing with Dad's crazy schedule.
I remember the time I brought my new great dane puppy home (without notice) and told you her name was "Maggie". You said I had to change her name. People had called you that as a child and you hated it. So she became "Daffer" and a part of our family. I left her home alone one night and ran off to see my boyfriend (and future husband Fred) in Ft. Lauderdale. You and Dad were out, too. About 10 o'clock I got a phone call from you. "Linda, you'd better get home and see what your dog has done!" (What she had done was eaten Andy's library books – and then thrown them up in big heaps all over the living room.)
The ranch was such a great place for a party, and you were always so gracious about company. You welcomed all my long-hair friends for volleyball / pool parties.
My own stepkids, Matt, Dana, and David, were 8, 5 and 4 when Fred and I got married and they loved to go to the ranch. One time, Fred and I were inside and the kids were playing outside when you drove up and saw them all running around on top of the garage. They had climbed the guava tree beside it and shimmied across a limb onto the roof. You made them come down, then came inside shaking your head and said what you must have heard your own mom say many times: "What one won't think of, the other one will!"
When my daughter Flower was newborn, you seemed to have a sixth sense for when I was exhausted after a sleepless night. The phone would ring and you would say, "Why don't you let me pick up Flower for a few hours and you get some rest?" Like you had nothing else to do!
So many happy memories. But what I will be most grateful for is that when I, at 21, had lost myself and thought I might just make a career of being a hippie (I really thought that was a viable option), you opened your home and your heart to me, and saw something in me I couldn't see in myself. You gave me the greatest gift – something I had so been missing and needing– the chance to be part of my father's life. You treated me as your own daughter and later, my children and my step children as your own grandchildren.
You were and are such a special soul, Peggy. You taught me so much about living and loving and giving. I love you and miss you.