This Ain't No Virgin

While all around the Rocky Mountains, the change of season has the colors in full bursts, a recent trip to Nevada had us stopping in the Virgin River Gorge on the border of Utah and the tip of Arizona, along I 15.  A mild, even balmy 75 degrees gave bursts to the beautiful cactus that call this area of desert home.  While some may be zipping through the Gorge on their way to the city of  lights & casinos, we could have easily spent our entire weekend exploring the continuous beauty of the desert and slow moving Virgin River as it carves its way through the canyon.

A Simple Man of the Blue Hairs

My father in law, Peter J. Gartlan, was a unique man.  He was simply a kind person.  He was also Irish.  And as with any Irish man, he had the gift of craic.  He told stories that left the audience in stitches.  I had the luxury of spending a few afternoons with him, alone.  Well, not alone as in solitude, but rather without his wife or 4 kids.  We graced the YMCA pool with our champion Olympic strides, and then got serious with the down & dirty of Peter holding court.  He had an audience of blue hairs.  You know, little old ladies, with swim caps, bright and bold floral swim suits, eager to make a boyfriend.  Peter, utterly devoted to his wife, seemed to be in his element when regaling the Blue Hairs Club with his Irish banter.  It was as if we were attending some garden party, but with a pool instead, and Peter was the guest speaker. Nothing was ever out of mean spirit; Peter was a genuine person without an ounce of malice.  He loved everyone, and people reacted to his dynamic and larger than life personality.  When Peter passed away on a rainy night in March, 1995, a little part of my heart went with him.  Peter was simple, kind, magnetic and most of all, the Leader of the Blue Hairs.

John A. McArthur - Remembering Peter