I am so incredibly touched by all of the tributes to my dad over this past month, as well as the unbelievable amount of support our family has received from everyone who knew my father. I may not be a permanent island resident anymore, but I have felt more at home these last few weeks than I have in quite some time. I attempted to put together a fitting tribute to my dad for the memorial service last Sunday, but in the end I just felt it was almost impossible to summarize everything this great man has meant to me as a father, teacher, mentor, and role model over my 33 years. I will however, be happy to submit a couple of anecdotes about my father that some of you may or may not be familiar with.

For those of you fortunate enough to join us at a party at the Doughtie household during the 80s or 90s, you may have known that my dad was the finest moderator of one the greatest participatory games ever invented…that’s right, I’m speaking of William-O-Trimatoe.

The game had been passed on for several generations on my dad’s side of the family, and by the time my dad became game master during my younger years, he had turned this fun family exercise in into an art form. The game was designed so that people could learn more about the other participants in the room, and it begins with the moderator reciting this verse, as he points around the room to each contestant: "William-O-Trimatoe was a good fisherman, catches fishes, puts ‘em in dishes, catches hens, puts ‘em in pens, some lay eggs, some none- wire briar limber lock- three geese in a flock- one flew east, one flew west, one flew over the cuckoo’s nest. O-U-T spells OUT so be gone!" At this point, the final person who gets pointed to is asked to leave the room as each of the remaining contestants made a list of what that person would want more than anything else in the world. Some suggestions dealt with material possessions & money, others offered more substantial wishes with family, friends, or lifestyle. When the list was complete, the game master would yell to the ousted participant to come to the entrance of the room, and the following dialogue would then ensue:

GM: "When ya comin’ home?"
P: "Tomorrow afternoon!"
GM: "Whatcha gonna bring?"
P: "A silver spoon and a fat raccoon!"
GM: "Would you rather walk or ride?"
P:"Ride"

The contestant would then enter the room & dad would read (with great drama and flair) the list of wishes to the contestant, without telling him or her which wish belonged to which participant. Eventually, the moment of truth would arrive and the contestant would announce which wish they liked the most. The winner would then be announced and would immediately head over and hop on the back of the contestant, at which point the following dialogue took place:

GM: "Whatcha got there?"
P: "A bag of mints"
GM: "Well, shake him ‘til he spits!"

The contestant would start shaking the winner on their back, until they "spit". (The lucky ones would just receive a dry puff of air.) The round was over and we’d go through the whole routine again with another contestant. It was wonderful fun (especially for the kids), and a great way to learn more about other people you might not be close with. My dad always captivated the audience every time we played, and anytime another party arose at the house, we all became eager to play it again. I hope to pass this tradition on to younger generations of my family as the years go on.

One other short story about my father: In the mid 80s, on two separate occasions my dad actually made me raise my right hand and swear two sworn oaths as I repeated after him. The first oath- "I, Matt Doughtie, promise that I will never smoke cigarettes as long as I live." The second oath-"I, Matt Doughtie, solemnly swear that I will never go into the business of advertising." Well, dad- I’m proud to say that with the exception of just a few times in high school and college, I kept both of my promises. But hey, the school newspaper needed some quick copywriter work done, and I volunteered. It won’t ever happen again.

We all love and miss you, dad. And like I told you a couple of weeks ago, you need to save that first steak dinner and ball game for me when we meet again.