GrandpaJackMy father-in-law, Jack Donahue, was a great athlete. The classic Irishman, he loved competition, people, music and gatherings. He was the master of sailing, golf, and downhill skiing. Imagine the spectacle of a 5’-5” Irishman on 7’ skis bombing the hills of Aspen and northern Michigan in the 1950’s! His later years saw him lose his liberties, one by one, to the prison of arthritis, yet no matter how much his joints hurt, he could always muster a smile.

His story was filled with incredible texture. He grew up in the Depression with nothing. When he was twelve, he and three friends rode balloon-tire bikes from Houghton Lake to Charlevoix to board the ferry to Beaver Island. As a teenager, he entered the Army Air Corps as a belly gunner, and he was set for deployment in the Pacific Theater just as the war ended. After 25 years as a technician with Detroit Edison, he cashed it all in and moved to northern Michigan to open one of the first Little Caesar’s franchises in the state.

Last Sunday, morning in Cadillac dawned bright and dry, the type of summer day we yearn for in mid-February. Perfect temperature, little wind, and bright blue sky. The venue was the Cadillac Lumberman, a suite of triathlon races featuring our beautiful community lakes. I had the privilege of racing against Tom King (man, that kid is fast!) and with my nephew, Noah, and my daughter, Hannah. They each work 40+ hours each week, yet they chose to get up at 5:00 am to race.

We learned after the race that Grandpa Jack had passed earlier that morning. Merciful, yet still so sad. Sunday drew sunny and perfect, as if in celebration of Jack’s life. I know he smiled seeing two of his eight grandchildren competing on water and land, and celebrating life with family and community.