Alton William McLean (Sept 6, 1911-April 7, 1993)

It's hard to believe that it's been 20 years since my grandfather, Alton William McLean Sr. (nickname was Mack), passed away.  Both my cousin Emily and myself would lovingly refer to him as MacDaddy.  He passed when I was 17 years old, but I only have 11 years of memories of him, and they were few and far between.  Growing up in Carrollton, TX and him living in Wilmington, NC put a ton of distance between us, but I usually saw him once a year when my family would go to Myrtle Beach, SC during the summer months.  

In 1982, he suffered a stroke that would paralyze him on the right side.  We went to see him, not knowing if he was going to pull through this.  Once we were assured of his recovery, we headed back to Dallas.  It was mid-January, the roads on I40, just outside of Knoxville, TN, were iced over.  We were on the French Broad River Bridge, stopped due to an accident at the end of the bridge.  My dad got out of our van, walked over to another vehicle to see if they knew what had happened, since back then, most cars that were traveling had CB radios in their cars.  All of a sudden, an 18 wheeler hit our van from behind, sending our vehicle to flip onto another vehicle in front of us.  Back in 1982, there were no "child safety laws" and vans like ours didn't have seat belts in the back, but it had a sink and cabinets.  My head smashed against the sink and cabinets and my body was flown to the front of the van.  My mother was in the front seat and, lucky for her, only suffered glass in her wrist.  I, unfortunately, wasn't so lucky.  I had suffered major head trauma and was rushed to the nearest hospital, which back then, wasn't fit to handle head trauma cases.  After two weeks in a coma, and two-a-half months of not walking or talking, I made a full recovery.  However, the lingering effects of the accident were still present.  My left eye would wander a bit and since I had suffered a left sided head injury, my right side (the creative side) took over and I appeared to be all over the place.  Why am I telling this story when I doing a tribute to my grandfather?  As it turned out, in his staggered state since suffering the stroke, he was the first person notice how different I was.  Mom and Dad saw me everyday and didn't see how different I was.  My parents didn't know when to tell both of my grandparents about the accident, but apparently MacDaddy pulled my mother aside and said, "Something's wrong with Trey!"  At that point, my parents told them and both me and him were close.  

I loved that guy!  My dad would always say that I was the only person who could get money from him.  Every time I visited him, he was real quick to hand me $25, and one time, handed me his watch.....which I lost within the span of a month.  In his latter years, he would sit in his chair, watch Sanford & Son, All in the Family, court shows, and a little pro wrestling (interesting on my end).  

While I won't say the same for my grandmother, he never had a racist bone in his body.  Living in the Carolinas, racism was second nature to most people back then, but not him.  He used to be a steel worker and worked side by side with many African American men.  In fact, there is a bridge that leads from Conway, SC to Myrtle Beach, SC that he helped build.  Dad was always real quick to point that out to me.

In the end, he suffered another major stroke, one that he couldn't recover from.  We buried him April 11, 1993.  

The name Alton William McLean has run in my family for three generations.  My grandfather, my father, and myself were named it.  While I never liked the name Alton as a first name, I have never changed it because I respect the man it came from.  As a joke, I used to tell my wife that if we ever had a boy, we can name him Alton William McLean IV and nickname "Quad".  Yeah, that was shot down real quick.  The two men before me who bared the name became great men during their lives.  To this day, I wish my kids could of gotten to know their grandfather like I got to know mine.

My tribute to a special lady

In 1988, I was a freshman at Newman Smith High School in Carrollton, TX.  I had a low self image of myself, a speech impediment, and zero self confidence.  In many ways, I considered myself an outcast, not belonging to any particular group.  When you're 13 years old, the last person you want to listen to is either of your parents.  In September of 1988, I met a lady that changed my life.

 

Lucy Murray (who I will always refer to as Mrs. Murray) was a teacher in a classroom called Content Mastery.  It was a classroom that helped kids who suffered from a learning disability, dyslexia, ADD, ADHD, you name it.  During my freshmen year, there were two teachers in the class to help, Mrs. McVay and Mrs. Murray.  The class was under Mrs. McVay's direction, as she would sit in meetings with your parents to help discuss how your child was comprehending their subjects.  While Mrs. McVay was helpful to me and I wouldn't discount her merits, I gravitated towards Mrs. Murray.  She was always there to listen to you, no matter how crazy, wrong, or upset you were.  Lord knows I told her some whoppers, but she would sit there and be the audience I craved for.  In most cases, this was where I found my voice.

 

One of the stories that Mrs. Murray and I have always reflected on was during my freshman year.  I was sitting at the desk connected by her desk, and we were going over my Pre-Algebra school work.  She reached into her desk and grabbed a Hershey Kiss.  She offered me one, and as I bit into it, I noticed that it tasted weird.  I asked her if it had anything in it, and she said that it had almonds in it.  I am allergic to almonds, walnuts, and pecans.  When I told her so, she replied, "No you're not!"  I said that I was and then, as a joke, I started making noises like I was dying.  Mrs. Murray was laughing so hard that tears were running down her face, all the while I was saying, "Fine, laugh it up, I just sit here and die!"  While both Mrs Murray and I were laughing uncontrollably, Mrs. McVay and a couple of students were watching us, probably wondering what in the hell is wrong with us.  That was the moment for me that made Mrs. Murray and I get close.

 

High school was no picnic for me though.  I struggled, even with the help of Content Mastery, getting my grades up.  During my senior year, my father fell ill to pancreatitis and my mother had left me home alone to graduate from high school while he was in the hospital.  One can only image what kinds of crazy stuff could happen when you leave a 17 year old home alone for 3 weeks.  For me, one of those things was letting my grades get away from me.  One of the subjects that I struggled with was Economics.  My teacher, Mr. Parks, informed me that if I was to graduate, I needed to score an 80 on my Economic exam.  For weeks, I studied and studied and studied.  When exam time came, I went to the school library, where Content Mastery held their class during exam week and Mrs. Murray was waiting for me.  We sat at a table, just the two of us, and she would read the question, and then narrow the answers from 4 to 2 for me.  We took the whole exam, and I walked away with a 90.  I have always credited Mrs. Murray, saying if it wasn't for her, I never would of gotten out of high school.  

 

After kids graduate from high school, they might see old teachers of theirs, maybe once or twice....ever after that.  Mrs. Murray and I had stayed in contact with one another for the last 20 years.  I have gotten to know her girls, Cara, Kelly, and Shannon (Shannon and I actually had a class together in high school).  Kelly would eventually work at the Assisted Living place that my mother was living in.  As for Cara, I would bump into her at Mrs. Murray's house from time to time.  Even Mrs. Murray's husband, Bill, would help fix my families laptops every once in a while.  I would go visit them probably twice a year, just to catch up on each others lives.  I will always remember when my mother entered the hospital with brain cancer.  She had a bout with lung cancer a couple years earlier, so her getting cancer again wasn't a surprise to me.  My and wife, Melissa, and I were working opposite of each other at the time.  When I worked, she watched the kids.  When she would work, I watched the kids.  When mom went into the hospital with brain cancer, I was saddled with two kids, Dakota (3) and Cadence (just born) when I went to see her.  At that time, mom was going through a paranoid state and I needed to get the girls out of there.  I headed over to Mrs. Murray's house and told her what was going on.  Without even asking for help, Mrs. Murray said, "Trey, why don't you leave the girls with me, and you go be with your mom!"  Thanks to her, I was able to go, sit with my mother and help calm her nerves.  

 

In my life, I have lost my father back in 2000 and my mother back in August of 2012.  On January 29, 2013, I felt like I lost another mother.  Unlike losing my real mother, this one rocked me harder!  With my mother, I knew it was only a matter of time.  With Mrs. Murray, I knew that she was sick, but it was something that she had beaten before, so I just thought that it was something that she could beat again.  When Kelly told me that she passed, all I kept thinking was how lucky I was that she came into my life and how much she helped me become the man I am today.  I am forever grateful that I had her in my life and how I hope I can carry a piece of her with me for the rest of my life.  Rest in Peace Lucy Murray, I love you!