Welcome back to Chasing Stories Podcast,where we share stories worth celebrating. Today, I’d like to honor a remarkablewoman in my life — my mother, Dorothy.
So, pour yourself a cup of coffee, getcomfortable, and bear with me if I get a little emotional.
My mom, Dorothy Marie, was born on August 14,1948, to my grandparents Charles and Dorothy Fairfield at Orleans CountyHospital in the southern tier of New York. She grew up in a time of big changesin America. Her childhood wasn’t easy. When she was still young, her motherbegan struggling with health issues, and Mom often missed school to care forher and her sisters.
As a teenager, she lived with my grandfatherin California for a time. Life with him wasn’t simple, and eventually shereturned home just in time for the peace-and-love era and the challenges of theVietnam War years.
Before I was born, she worked as a dietarysupervisor at Columbus Hospital in Buffalo. That’s where she met my father,Robert. My grandmother didn’t approve—she said he was a ladies’ man—but Momfollowed her heart. They married, bought their first home in the Black Rockarea, and in 1972, I came into the world kicking and screaming.
Mom’s life wasn’t without hardships. Afterher divorce, she worked tirelessly, even sending money to help my grandmothercare for me. She later remarried, and we became a blended family. Through itall, she remained strong, determined, and full of love.
I’ll never forget the day, as a young boy, Iwas hit by a Corvette while chasing a ball. By some miracle, I was fine—thoughMom made sure the hospital checked me over from head to toe. She wasprotective, sometimes stubborn, but always full of love.
Mom was also my greatest advocate. When Istruggled in school with learning disabilities and stuttering, she fought forme to get the help I needed. She celebrated my victories—like making the meritroll and, later, handing her my high school diploma. That was the best gift Icould ever give her.
She was there for every milestone: my firstday of school, standing up for me when I was bullied, and cheering me on as Iworked through challenges. She loved my wife, adored her grandkids, and madeevery holiday memorable—even if her famous “box stuffing” was always on thetable.
As the years went on, I had to return thecare she once gave me. When dementia and health issues made it unsafe for herto live alone, I had to make some difficult choices. Moving her to asenior-living community and later to rehab wasn’t easy, but I kept my promiseto make sure she was safe, loved, and never alone. In those final years, I gotto be her son again instead of her caretaker, and that was a gift.
Mom’s life was one of sacrifice, resilience,and endless love. She cheered me on as I earned certificates, made the dean’slist, and joined the National Honor Society. She did the same for hergranddaughter, who followed in those footsteps. She was proud of us, just as wewere proud of her.
Dorothy Marie came into this world kickingand screaming—and she left it the same way. But in between, she filled it withlove, laughter, and devotion.
Mom, I will always love you. Thank you forbeing my mom.
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