A quarter of a century old today...

Wolf, my son and best friend in the universe was born on July 24, 1982 at 10:47 am. He arrived several weeks early, weighing nearly 6 pounds. He could hold his head up from the very start and he rarely cried. He was an even tempered, snuggly baby who was nearly always content and happy. He smiled at an early age and was talking in full sentences by the time he was a year old.


He could read long before he went to kindergarten and had (and still has) the best memory of anyone I know.


As a child he was kind to everyone, most especially animals. He saved birds that had fallen from their nests and took in every stray he could find. All of our pets had been rescued in one way or another and we always had a house full of critters. Fish, however, trembled at the sight of him.


He was usually very helpful around the house, although every time I'd ask him to clean his room he'd say "maybe amorrow". As you can see here, he was always a snappy dresser (I am in so much trouble for posting this photo--but it could be worse, Wolf, it could be the bathtub picture).


He volunteered during and after school and on weekends. He spent many an hour at the Beartooth Nature Center in Red Lodge, building and cleaning pens and doting on the animals. In his junior year a fire threatened the compound and he stayed there for several nights, making sure the animals were alright and preparing to transport them if the fire switched directions.


Wolf always loved the great outdoors. We camped and hiked throughout most of his formative years. Those were some of the best times of my life and I'd like to think some of the best of his youth as well. We'd gather up two or three of his friends and head to the mountains or the lake for days on end. No matter what time of year or how lousy the weather, if he wasn't in school and I wasn't at work, we were camping.

Fast forward many years. Wolf's father and I had long since divorced and he had remarried Kristine, a very nice woman who had a son from a previous marriage. Together they had one daughter, Abigail. After several years, Kristine became ill with cancer and after a time, passed on from the disease. Jess, her firstborn, went to live with his biological father in New York City but after a short time, it was obvious that Jess was miserably unhappy.


Wolf (then age 16) decided we should ask him to live with us, which we did. The two boys shared a room until we could find a bigger house to accommodate us. That Wolf would be so kind as to share all he had with someone less fortunate, is so like him.


Wolf's senior prom was a night to remember. His fondest wish was to have his 11 year old half sister there, so we drove to Gillette and picked her up. We bought her a beautiful dress and had her hair done. When Wolf was crowned Prom King, his first dance wasn't with the Queen, it was with his little sister. It was so beautiful that nearly everyone in the room cried. I wish I had that picture, but it's at my dad's house. The photo above is her senior picture.


When Dale was in the hospital, Wolf spent countless hours visiting with him, picking up things that he needed, comforting him when he was nervous and entertaining him when he was bored and frustrated. Despite his intense dislike of hospitals and all things medical, he put someone else's needs ahead of his own. How like him to do that. When Dale needed him most, he was there for him. When Dale passed on it was Wolf that went to the hospital to collect his things so that Cousin Dan didn't have to make arrangements to have them sent home.


I could go on and on and on about what a wonderful person my son is (oh wait, I have), but I don't want to lose my audience (all two of you). Ha! Suffice it to say, my son is a big sweetie and I am very proud of him. He's the best person I know and I'm a better person for knowing him.

I love you son. Happy 25th Birthday!