Author of The Starlight Series

SCOTT MICHAEL, my two favorite masculine names.  I gave them to my son, reversed, Michael Scott.  He in turn, gave them to his son, as Scott Michael.

Scott Michael

Today, July 25th, is the twenty-first birthday of my second grandson.   His parents and grandparents eagerly awaited his arrival, but he took his time getting here.  After a long day of hard labor, his mother’s doctor decided that it would be best to deliver him by C-section.  His soon-to-be dad told us and Joyce’s parents that he would come get us when the baby was delivered.

I waited for several minutes before I decided that I could not let my son wait alone.  I told  the others that I would “be back,” and I went downstairs to the surgery wing of the hospital.  I rounded a corner and there on the floor, outside the operating room, sat my son, hands hanging limply across his knees.  The worry on his face broke my heart.

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When a beautiful, brown-eyed, dark-haired baby girl arrived in the Donoho family some years ago, I fell in love with her at first sight.  They named her Joyce.  I have known her father since we were teens, and our families have been friends for years.  I watched Joyce grow from a rosy-cheeked toddler to a pretty little girl with a shy smile and a smattering of freckles across her nose.

My son, Mike, was a couple years older than Joyce’s older brother, David; but the two boys were friends as they all grew up.  When Mike was fifteen, he complained to me one day that there were no “nice girls” in high school.  I assured him that there many nice girls, but he wasn’t having it.  I smiled and told him, “One of these days you’re going to look around and discover that Joyce Donoho is the prettiest little thing you have ever seen.”

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