A Brief History (Part One)

Greg's mom, Shirley; a lanky, brown-eyed, brown-haired farm girl; grew up in a rural community outside Grand Rapids, Michigan. Uncommon in both those times and that place, her mom and dad got divorced when she was 3 and her older brother 5. From what she remembers, her dad was not a nice man. She and her brother, George, were adopted by her mother's second husband--and called him Dad. Her mom and new dad went on to have three more children.

He was a good man and had a job at the local tool and die company. And, although their farm was a little one, it helped feed the family and added to their income by selling milk to the surrounding community. From first through eighth grade, she, her brothers and sisters and a few dozen other kids were taught in a one-room school-house. Then, it was time to move on to the "big" high school in the nearby town of Hartford. That was the extent of her education.

Just as she finished high school, her dad was transferred to the big city of Detroit. Rather than move the whole family, it was decided that she and her dad would move the three hour distance and live in a trailer. George was off in the war and the family needed both their incomes. They went "home" on the weekends. Her first job was on the factory line at GM. After her dad retired and returned home, she had a series of other "single girl" jobs - a sales clerk for Federal's Department store, a seamstress, a coffee shop waitress, etc., but still hadn't met a potential husband. By the age of 30, she landed back at GM, but this time in a clerical position in the payroll department. There, she made a friend who had another friend...

Murray, Greg's dad; a smart-mouthed east-coaster and a Russian Jew by descent, was bright enough and athletic enough to qualify for a sports scholarship to the University of Michigan. In those days, they only had "sports" scholarships, so you played whatever they told you to. (Imagine a 5 foot 9 inch Jewish guy playing football for the Wolverines today!) He finished his undergrad and entered Dental School (a much more typical pursuit) and graduated in 1934. He got married and had two daughters. When they were teenagers, he divorced. He continued to see his daughters often over the next five years, and just around the time they got married, he began to date.

A gregarious, fun-loving sort, he threw himself a 48th birthday party and one of his friends brought a friend... and she was just what the "doctor" ordered. It was a perfect match. While his previous relationship had been demanding, this one was simple. She was 33 and had all but decided she would likely be an old maid when she hit paydirt. After all, he was a doctor and she was a farmgirl. He said "jump", she said "how high?" They both felt incredibly lucky. They were married within the year. To add to their good fortune, she got pregnant right away. They were ecstatic. However, at the end of the nine months, they had a stillborn baby girl. It must've been horribly painful - yet rarely discussed.

Fortunately, just over a year later, she discovered she was pregnant again. She knew this would be her last chance. After nine months of anxiety, she joyously delivered a healthy baby boy. They named him Gregory Owen and doted on him equally. After all, his fifty-one-year old father had already built his practice, his other children were married, and he had no responsibilities around the house except for party-planning. She had quit her job to stay home and raise her bundle of boy. She was the cookie baking, field trip going, costume-making, shake and bake kind of mom.

As this miracle baby grew, he wanted for nothing. His biggest decision was to determine if the opportunities offered appealed to him or not. Do you want to do this? Do you want to own that? Do you want...do you want...do you want? Unfortunately, he never did want - for anything. Therefore, never learned how to determine what, in fact, he did want - or how to get it.