The final five years of Dad's life were the only ones lived outside of Dalton. As he began his struggle with Alzheimer's, Dad was faced with a move to Kearney. Although he was in a new location, in his mind he was back home, on the farm in Dalton. When I visited Dad, the nurses would often greet me with a story Dad had shared with them. They all thoroughly enjoyed these stories and, since many of them involved Dad's brother Pete, (a man who was larger than life) they wanted to know if he was real. I assured them that both Pete and most of the stories were real! Dad and I got to spend some quality time together. We attended some big band concerts (which he loved), went on car rides around the countryside (with him complaining about the cramped quarters in the Mustang) and had many sodas at Sonic while watching the cars go by (with his many comments about how darn fast they were going. This led to stories of exploits with Keith Beavers-his lead footed friend)! As time went by, we were more limited in what we could do together but Dad never lost his sense of humor. Even though he had trouble communicating, he would often laugh and throw out a bull---- when appropriate. The one thing I am so thankful for is that Dad felt he was still in Dalton and because he loved those memories so much, they stayed with him through the confusion of this disease. I am sure he enjoyed his ride back across the state (past some familiar wheat fields) and will be a peace back home - in Dalton.