A Birthday Tribute

by Kris, daughter and friend

 This is my birthday present to him...........  a living eulogy if sorts.  Afterall, what good is an eulogy if the person being eulogized cannot hear it.

Dr. James Davis Trolinger

He was embarassed of this photo as a child because of his bare feet.  I absolutely treasure this photo. 

Jim's mother was a significant factor in his life.  She worked in a pencil factory while raising four children.  How she did it is beyond my comprehension, but my guess is that my Dad's success is an example of how a mother's perseverance can affect her child's life.  

At her funeral, my Dad was alone as was I.  As a result, we leaned on each other for support with me being the stronger of the two of us.  I have only been the stronger of the two of us twice in my life and it is an odd phenomena for a daughter.  The other time is revealed in the Madrid essay and occurred when my Dad was run over by a stuffed bell pepper served at the military cafe.  

I do know that my Dad inherited his love of ice cream from his Grandfather and namesake, James Ohnman Davis.    Fortunately for me, my Dad has shared the story with me of where he experienced his first tastes of ice cream, a delicacy that is always present in his freezer.   Ohnman had an affection for "cream" and my Dad was always treated to "cream" upon visits with his Grandfather.  

One of my favorite pieces of wisdom  placed upon me by my Dad centers around ice cream.  It is a lesson that I have shared with my own children.  This lesson centers around the idea that anything is better if it is shared. 

Upon a visit with my Dad one summer, knowing that there was ice cream in the freezer, I took the container out only to find it almost empty (a rare occurrence in the Trolinger household).  I scooped out the remaining clouds of vanilla into my bowl and proceeded to sit at the kitchen table across from my father who had been watching me the entire time empty the ice cream container.  As I started to take a bite, he looked at me and said, "you know that would taste better if you'd share."  Being cursed with a guilt-laden conscience, I gave in easily to this wisdom. Surprisingly enough, I found out quickly that my Dad was telling the truth....................at least it seemed so at the time as we laughed and took turns gobbling up the "cream".

Winston and Euna Mae Trolinger

School Days 1949

ice cream balances on my spoon in mid air
from across the table comes a jealous stare
 "it'll taste better if you share"
says my Dad with a hungry glare

Although I have a heart that is kind
my heart doesn't always agree with my mind
but I knew that in Dad's words I would find
rewards in love leaving selfishness behind

My Dad has 2 brothers and 1 sister. The three often exchange stories of their childhood.  There are stories (mostly between my Dad and older brother, Perry) of laughter, tears, friendship, meanness, love and hate that have made me come to realize as a parent that my children are normal.  Some of the best stories about Perry and my Dad are not suitable for printing here.  I will let him tell you some of their outlandish tales, or perhaps you already know some of them.     I do shudder to think of the horrors my aunt, the oldest of the four, endured in having to live with 3 boys.  And don't think there are not stories involving the youngest brother as well.  

1958 -

Jim, the Father

 I credit my mother for pulling me through this rough time in my life, but I came through this time with a shard of wisdom that I still live by today.  There is not a night that does not go buy that I pray to God asking for "the shield."  

I am the only girl of 3 children.  Being the only girl, I faced the difficulty, or felt the difficulty, of having to prove myself.  I was not born with the intelligence that my father possesses and older brother inherited.  This is a fact that has been the seed of many of the misunderstandings that we've had in our lives.  To him, "math is a language.......you just have to learn to read it."  To me, math is the most complicated thing ever invented.   To him, "output should not exceed input."  To me, bouncing checks is a common occurrence.  To this day, we grapple with our views on math.  He has bailed me out financially many times and I've signed several contracts agreeing  to instill  mathematical discipline in my life. Although it's a constant struggle, and I do not have my dad's scientific mind, I am more like him than I ever imagined.  The resemblance is evident externally and internally. 

This is my Dad brushing my hair.  I am one-.  Being the mother of 2 children, I now know that his thoughts in this photo are chock full of uncertainty.

The Trolinger Men:  James, jr., Jonathan, and James, sr.

My favorite memory of my Dad has him in the "friend" and "mentor" role.  Growing up in a divorced family, I got to travel a lot (a perk).  Each summer I would fly to California where we would often take secondary vacations to locations such as Hawaii, Lake Tahoe, Yosemite, and Sequoia.  In Sequoia, there is a place called "Morro Rock".  This place is as exactly as it sounds...........a huge mountenous rock.  On one of our trips to Sequoia, my Dad somehow conned me into waking up before sunrise to climb the bazillion steps leading to the summit of Morro Rock to watch the sunrise.  In a time when I was always overly concerned about what my hair looked like, I had to seriously weigh the worth of such a journey.  The journey won in more ways than one. . 

My Dad and I woke up, drove to the rock, got out in the chilling air, and climbed under fading stars to the summit of this rock.  Unbeknownst to me, my Dad decided that as the sun peaked the mountains surrounding us he had an urge to scream out like a maniac at the top of his lungs.  After letting out a blood curling scream, he turned to me laughing and said, "you do it."  Being a teenager ,forever embarrassed, I initially shrunk from the challenge, but finally gave in.   He later told me he imagined himself as an Indian in a previous lifetime performing such a ritual to cleanse the soul.  As we climbed down the rock, we realized that we had probably woken up the entire valley.

Jim, the Friend, shows me his ballet skills.

Jim, the Friend, on top of Morro rock.  Fortunately, he has shared this ritual with many, including my Grandmother who in her 70s made the climb.

Jim, the Grandfather

In 2000, I experienced the WWT firsthand.  I journeyed to Madrid, Spain with him to attend a meeting of his colleagues in the "blowing up stuff" field.  This is a trip that my Dad captured beautifully in his essay that appears on this site.  I learned many things on this trip.....................more about my Dad than about a foreign country.  

One of the more humorous things about this trip is that I was terrified that his colleagues might think I was his girlfriend and not his daughter.  My terror was justified.  There was more than one person that thought this.  My Dad didn't do much to dissolve the fictional appearance, so I started broadcasting my kinship.

All in all, I found out that the WWT follows every rule he has created.  Some of these rules have even become second-hand for me and have made my life traveling much better.  I encourage everyone to review the WWT principles. 

My Dad has been a traveler since I can remember.  The best part of him traveling is that he almost always brought me back a souvenir.  Some of these souvenirs are still the butt of jokes.  

Two of my most memorable gifts include a piece of shag carpet folded up to make a purse with the word LOVE spelled across the front.  Then there was the hippy-esque hat and jacket that I think my Dad really bought for himself.  More recently, upon a return from Russia, I said to myself, "I hope he didn't bring me one of those DANG dolls that you open and inside find a smaller doll."  Sure enough that is what he brought to me.  These days, I  display the doll proudly.    I realize now that this tradition is not about the actual gift, but about the fact that he took time to think of me in the middle of his travels.  While in Spain,  my Dad had Pauline  so much on his mind that he drug me on an exhaustive search for the perfect souvenir for her.  I think I saw every angel in Madrid.   

Postcards have always been an important part of his travels as well.  My Grandmother saved her postcards and pasted them in an album.  I plastered mine all over my refrigerator.   Once again, however, he always took the time no matter where he was. 

In 1999, my Dad started talking about the creation of a website to display his stories.  He had been trying to get my brother to help, so in my eagerness to please my Dad I started learning to do basic web-page design.  Putting this website together has created some unintentional magic.  My Dad depends on me, a first, to help him with something he doesn't know how to do............... we talk more than we would if I didn't work on the website.............and I have developed a new skill that I use daily in my job with DuPont.    

Jim, in Madrid, Spain, the WWT poses in front of the #8, a significant number in his life!   His motto most of my life has been, "whereever you go, there you are."  

Jim, the Husband