Gerald Sisco – my dad – was born in Shelby Montana on November 24, 1929 to LaVerne and Frank Sisco. He was the oldest of three children, the only boy and the only Sisco of that generation to go to college. He graduated from Winthrop High School in 1948 and Washington State University in 1952 with a degree in chemical engineering.

From there dad entered the Army, serving as an active reserve officer in the signal corps. He served two tours of duty in Korea during the Korean War. In 1963, while stationed at the Yuma Proving Grounds in Arizona, he met and married Marilynn Anne Barham. They were promptly transferred overseas to Burma, where he served as a military attaché at the embassy. They gave birth to their first daughter, Jeri Lynn (me), in Burma in 1964, and after returning to Fort Belvoir, Virginia, they had a second daughter, Cheri Raye, in 1967.

While we were babies, he and mom took ballroom dance lessons. When we would wake, colicky and crying in the night, he’d practice his dance steps with us in the dark living room to soothe us back to sleep.

Dad was then assigned to serve a tour of duty in Vietnam in 1966, while we waited back home for him in Portland. We all met mid-tour for Christmas at Bellows AFB in Hawaii, where he climbed trees for coconuts for us, walked along the sea wall with us, and soaked up the sun and the time away from the war.

He was an avid outdoorsman and naturalist, and he and mom often took us camping and fishing. We started out tent camping, but soon graduated to an RV. We explored the eastern seaboard – historical sites, lighthouses, long deserted beaches and the Blue Mountain Parkway. We spent a tense weekend at Cape Hatteras in a tiny trailer during a gale force storm that threatened to turn into a hurricane, but most trips were much more idyllic outings.

Dad finished his career at Fort Lee, Virginia, retiring from the army as a Lieutenant Colonel in 1972. We moved west to Pendleton, Oregon to be closer to family. After a career spent in communication electronics, he enrolled in Blue Mountain Community College to pursue formal education in electronics engineering technology. Mom took advantage of the GI bill to study drafting at the same time.

In 1972, Dad was at the ground floor of the computer revolution. He learned keypunch to work on the mainframe computer at the school electronics lab, and because of his industry experience in the military, he was quickly offered a job as a lab teaching assistant.

In Eastern Oregon and Washington, he was able to indulge his interest in hiking, regional history, and prospecting for native artifacts. He spent time taking us to visit local museums, searching for arrowheads and other native tools in the desert, and researching local history and geology.

After graduation, we moved north to Kennewick, Washington, where dad went to work for Battelle Pacific Northwest Laboratories in electronic engineering technology.

Astronomy became a new addition to his interests, and the high desert of Eastern Washington was an ideal place for it. Battelle had an advanced observatory on Rattlesnake Mountain, occasionally open to amateur astronomer visitors. He subscribed to magazines, learned about the field, and built a 10″ telescope.

We became involved in Girl Scouts, and with their interest in camping, he and mom became involved too. They joined the scout camp board of directors. Every spring, prior to summer camp season, they and a group of volunteers would travel to camp and spend a week of vacation time opening up the camp – turning on utility systems, performing needed repairs, and building planned expansions.

After more than a decade at Battelle, dad left and went to work as a technical consultant, first with a consulting group and then independently. He specialized in providing radio telemetry controlled irrigation systems to large farms.

For many years, dad was foster father to a curious and charismatic orange cat named Schmelkin. Schmelkin was Cheri’s cat, but during her college and apartment years Schmelkin stayed with dad and became very attached. During the day while he worked, she’d curl up in his printer paper carton under his computer and keep him company, and during the evening, she followed him everywhere, talking to him and curling up by his feet on the ottoman.

In 1989, his first grandchild (and my son), Benjamin Curry, was born. Childbirth in the 90s was quite a bit different than in the 60s, and he waited outside the room during birth. He came inside as soon as the baby was pronounced healthy and was one of the first to hold him, fighting back tears in his eyes. His second grandchild (and my second son), Zachary David, was born in 1992.

Dad was a passionate amateur geologist and gold prospector, and longtime president of his local chapter of Gold Prospectors’ Association of America (GPAA). He gave many educational presentations about geology and prospecting and helped many new prospectors learn about the activity. He was never really too wound up about actually finding gold – although he wouldn’t have objected to it – he was much more interested in finding the perfect confluence of geologic conditions and prospecting technology. It was always all about the process. As a grandparent, he spent many hours patiently teaching Ben and Zach to gold pan and, later, to fish.

Although he entered the electronics and computer industry its infancy, he kept up with the dramatic changes in the field throughout the last decades of the 20th century. He always had a current model PC, learned to program in the current programming languages, kept his FCC license current and used email and eBay.

On Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1999, seven years ago today, he passed away. He had a sudden massive heart attack and was gone instantly. Typical for him, he had a tool in his hand and was on his way to fix a radio telephone.

He left behind my mom, Marilynn; two daughters, Cheri and myself; two grandsons, Benjamin and Zachary; and his sisters and brother-in-law, JoAnn and Dianne and Don. JoAnn and Schmelkin are gone now too, they’re with him watching over us – and the rest of us miss him tremendously.

Every Thanksgiving there is an emptiness at the table, and we take care to remember him. Not a week goes by that I don’t talk to him, wherever he is – and I feel his answers in my bones. I honor him for the fascinating life he lived, and though he left too soon and too suddenly, I’m grateful for the impact he had on our lives.

The summer after he left us, we scattered his ashes at Rimrock Falls, one of his favorite places to hike and prospect. I’d like to think he’s happy there.