I remember my dad, Byron Albert Mayo, as a fun-loving man of integrity and good common sense – with a joyful Irish sense of humor.

When my mother left him and filed for divorce in the summer of 1928, he was head timekeeper for a Portland, Oregon, construction company.

At that time, my mother, Dellavina—everyone called her Della—was a vivacious, ambitious young woman. She wanted more. Much more. With the divorce, she soon discovered she had settled for less.