- Date Of Birth: October 25, 1932
- Date Of Death: December 12, 2020
- State: Colorado
October 25, 1932 – December 12, 2020
Donald Ray Tice was born on a farm on October 25, 1932, in a rural area called Beebe Draw, which is southeast of LaSalle, Colorado. His parents were Esther Grimes and Ray Tice, and he had an older sister (Irene), a younger brother (Chucky) and a stepbrother (Denny). Ray Tice, his father, was an alcoholic who abandoned the family when my Dad was a young child. Neither my Dad nor my beloved Grandmother would ever talk about Ray Tice, and they acted as if he never existed. But I know there was a very dark past, although we will never know the full story!
My Father was a depression era baby, and he grew up impoverished, living initially on the Beebe Draw farm and then in LaSalle. The earliest photo I have of my Dad is him standing outside the farm with family and friends, shoeless in the dusty front yard, wearing a pair of overalls. He was probably around 5 years old. Around that time, my Grandma would take Irene and Dad to work in the fields picking cucumbers in the oppressive summer heat to make ends meet to survive. Grandma was pregnant with Chucky, and they would all walk to the fields from their house in LaSalle, probably 2 or 3 miles each way. It was a very tough life.
Despite their limited financial means, Dad always spoke very highly of growing up in LaSalle. Like many young boys of that era, he spent his days swimming in irrigation ditches, playing basketball and baseball on dirt fields, and yes, he even had a paper route delivering the Greeley Tribune. As a youngster he would sneak into the local pool hall, and before long he became so accomplished that he was winning money from the local pool sharks! My father was a brilliantly gifted pool player, and he was not shy in telling you! In High School, he was an All-Conference basketball and baseball player. He played for the legendary Hall of Fame coach Jimmy Baggot at the old Greeley High School. Coach Baggot would always say that Dad was one of his favorite players, and it was Coach Baggot who gave Dad the nickname “Tippy,” which stuck throughout his life. Coach Baggot loved to tell the following story about Tippy during the summer before his Senior year:
Start of Summer
Coach Baggot: Tippy, I want you in the gym every day during the summer!
Tippy: Of course, Coach.
Baggot: I want you to shoot 500 shots a day, do you understand?
Tippy: Yes coach.
End of Summer
Baggot: Well, did you shoot 500 shots a day?
Tippy: No, Coach
Baggot: Why the hell not?
Tippy: Because I MADE 500 shots a day.
The pinnacle of his basketball career was at the semifinals of the State championship held in the old Denver Coliseum against Denver West High School (1950). Greeley was down 1 point with the clock showing less than 10 seconds to play. Dad stole the ball around mid-court, took 2 dribbles and launched a last second shot from well beyond the top of the key. He made the shot, and 2,000 fans from Greeley stormed the court in celebration; alas, only for the shot to be disallowed because time expired! The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. Dad always had a gleam in his eye telling the story of how the refs stole the game from Greeley and him!!!
While in high school, a tragic event happened to my Grandma that would forever impact the trajectory of my dad’s (and my) life. After so many hard years as a single, poor mother, my grandma had found a second husband who adored her and treated her so very well, Cooper Grimes. Cooper worked as a railroad engineer for the Union Pacific, and he was a wonderful man and great stepfather to Irene, Dad and Chucky (Grandma and Cooper had one child, Denny). Grandma and Cooper went out for New Year’s Eve in 1946 (I think), and they stopped on Highway 85 outside of LaSalle to help a neighbor who was having car trouble. My Grandma was walking towards the disabled car when a drunk driver struck her and pinned her against the disabled car. My Grandma was forever paralyzed from the waist down, and she was on life support for weeks in the hospital. My beloved Aunt Irene, who was only 18 or 19 at the time, had to take care of house and her three younger siblings (Cooper was working 60+ hours per week on the railroad and he was out of town most of the time). My dad’s eyes would tear up at the thought of his older sister Irene feeding him, washing his basketball uniform and (yes) polishing his Chuck Taylor basketball shoes. It was a very difficult time, but the family bonded together.
As the hand of fate would have it, this horrible accident led to an unbelievable sequence of events which resulted in my dad meeting my mom, the love of his life. Because my Grandma’s injuries were so severe, she was transferred to University Hospital in Denver. And by the grace of god, my Grandma’s hospital roommate was a young 16-year-old girl from the small town of Paonia, Colorado. Her name was Fern Anita Willis, my mom.
The Korean War was the next disrupter in my father’s life, one that would set his destiny as a lifelong railroad man. After graduating High School, my Dad enrolled at Northeastern Community College in Sterling Colorado to play basketball. He was just settling in as a college student when he was informed that he was likely to be drafted into the army and dispatched to Korea. His stepfather, Cooper, told him that it made sense for him to temporarily quit college and work on the Union Pacific until he was drafted so he could make and save money and start to earn railroad “seniority.” At the age of 18 he became a brakeman and began working the local switching jobs in LaSalle and Greeley for the Union Pacific. Thus began his railroad career. In an interesting “lucky bounce of the ball,” the Army discovered his railroading work experience and he was assigned as a depot manager in Pusan, South Korea. Pusan is the main southern port in Korea, and he was responsible for the movement of troops, arms and food in the Korean War. It was a very important job, and one in which my Dad took considerable pride.
Dad was beloved and wonderful grandfather (Tippy) to Kelsey, Allison, Don, Holly and Peter. He and Mom spent much of their retirement in California or New York to be with the grandkids. I have the best memories of him taking our oldest son Don in a snuggly and walking the streets of NYC for hours and hours, talking to strangers and always coming home with some fantastic story. Another great memory is when our good friend and next door neighbor Courtney went into unexpected labor while her husband was traveling on business. Courtney called us in a panic for help, and Dad, calmly and coolly picked her up and drove her 45 minutes to the hospital, comforting her on the way. He was always fearless and confident. Nothing was too daunting for him. He loved NYC and fully embraced its energy and vibrancy, pretty impressive for a small town farm boy.
It is hard to express how profoundly my Dad influenced my life. Of course he did all the right things a father should do: he was a great role model; a hard worker who excelled at his chosen occupation; selfless and devoted to his family; a loving husband and father; a generous and compassionate soul to friends and strangers alike; a gregarious and outgoing personality. But there is much more than that. He had a passion and dynamism for life that was unbridled. He always excelled at his life’s chosen hobbies, whether it was playing pool, basketball, skiing, railroading or being a husband, father and grandfather. This farm boy from LaSalle, raised without a father or money, rose up to live a truly beautiful and wonderful life. I will miss him dearly.
With Love,
Kevin
