McCreight, Clifford

Rocky wasn't about to help me write this #. he always loved 
the Ringling 5's "Ole and Lena" joke which went something like 
this:

Ole died. The newspaper called Lena to ask what should be 
printed as an obituary. She said: "Ole died." They encouraged 
her to add something to that, since the obituary was printed as 
a free service. She thought a while, and then said "Are you sure 
it's free?" Upon being assured that it was, she said "OK. 'Ole 
died. For sale: 1954 Ford pickup truck'."

Rocky really thought that should suffice as an obituary. But I'm 
left to deal with this and since I'm not ready (at least yet) to get 
rid of Rocky's pickup truck, he's just going to have to put up 
with me doing this my way, through words and pictures, which 
he always enjoyed reading and looking at, even if they weren't 
"his thing".

Rocky was born in Carbondale, Ill., and spent part of his 
childhood in the Midwest, but most of his "formative years" 
were in the Houston, Tex.-area where he grew up with a bayou 
in his backyard to play in, rode bulls (or tried to!) and bareback 
horses in rodeos with his high school friends, loved "muscle 
cars" (though he never had one of his own) and hung out in 
Texas honky-tonk bars where he drank very little beer, was 
scared to death of women, and developed a life-long fondness 
for country music.

Rocky was proud to be a veteran of the 82nd Airborne during 
his service with the US Army 1966-68. He graduated from 
Colorado State University with a degree in Wildlife Management, 
and worked for the National Park Service for 31 years, in 
locations ranging from Mesa Verde to Death Valley to Grand 
Teton National Park. He loved being a "grunt" field ranger, and 
especially treasured the time he could spend poking around the 
backcountry, off trails and in remote areas. When he finally 
tired of dealing with Ranger Division front-country politics after 
many years, he transferred into the NPS Maintenance Division 
where he happily finished out his career as a Motor Vehicle 
Operator, plowing snow and working on the road crew in the 
North District of Grand Teton National Park.

Rocky loved and had a way with critters of all kinds. During his 
"Death Valley days", he and his first wife Janeen and their 
children Tami, Billy and Gene, shared their home at various 
times with a succession of stray or abandoned dogs, and an 
injured owl they called Hooter. When I first came to know all of 
them during the mid-1970's, they lived at Colter Bay in Grand 
Teton National Park with a wonderful golden retriever named 
Trapper and a gentle giant of an Irish Wolfhound named 
Jacques.

I came to know Rocky well only in his later years, when we were 
each single and he was living at the north end of Grand Teton 
National Park, and I at the north end of Yellowstone. For 
several years in the early 1990's, we traveled back and forth 
through Yellowstone Park to visit and spend time with each 
other (the finest "commute" one could possibly imagine!). When 
Rocky was making that nearly 200-mile round trip by 
snowmobile on a regular basis during those winters, my mom 
decided that this must really be "true love"! We were married 
outdoors in a meadow near Mammoth Hot Springs on 
September 30, 1995.

For the past nearly 10 years, Rocky and I have lived in the 
Bozeman area, where we have enjoyed finally being able to put 
down permanent roots, owning a home, and spending time 
with a host of wonderful new friends in the local horse and dog 
communities. Rocky was especially appreciated by several 
friends whose horses he helped to train.

The Rocky I came to know and love so well never considered 
himself anything "special". He never sought or saw any point in 
trying to earn awards, ribbons or any sort of special recognition 
for what he considered "just doing one's job." He read a lot of 
Eastern philosophy and loved the story about the Zen master 
whose goal was to come into a village which needed him, help 
them to solve their own challenge, and quietly leave without 
anyone really realizing that he had been there. Very few people 
probably even knew that Rocky had trained in karate to the 
black belt level. 

Rocky had no use for "special days" like birthdays, 
anniversaries, and holidays. He thought that each day was as 
valuable as any other and that life should be lived that way, 
with full appreciation and celebration of each moment.

He honored and respected Native American traditions, and 
treasured the time he spent with his friends Roger and Linda 
and in his own beloved tipi. Rocky actually would have loved to 
have lived about 150 years before his time # he had no use for 
modern technology (his idea of "high-tech" was a pencil with an 
eraser!) and his often-expressed preference for the end of his 
life would have been to wander out into the woods alone, and 
let the coyotes pick over his bones.

No memorial services are planned, at Rocky's request. His 
remains will be cremated, and I will do my best to get them out 
somewhere where the coyotes can at least sniff at them on 
their way by. No flowers please # if you wish to make any sort 
of donation in his memory, please do it in some way that is 
meaningful in terms of your own memories of him. I am 
especially grateful to the folks at the Bozeman Deaconess 
Cancer Center, Rocky Mountain Hospice, and to our aide 
Rhonda Oster, who cared for him with such good humor and 
tenderness during the final months of his life.

Please remember him in your own way with joy and laughter -- 
by yourselves or with me -- over the days and months and 
years to come, as you hike a trail, paddle a river, have 
breakfast in a small-town cafe (don't forget to harass the 
waitress with Rocky's inimitable good humor), sing along with 
Hank Williams, chug up a slickrock trail on a mountain bike, 
scratch a dog's butt or belly, sleep out on the ground in a tent 
or tipi, break trail in fresh powder on cross-country skis, poke 
around the backroads of Montana on a road trip, ride a 
(preferably barefoot) horse into the backcountry, listen to 
sandhill cranes calling in the spring or elk bugling in the fall, 
enjoy a Montana sunrise with a cup of coffee on the porch, 
admire a classic car, volunteer at an agility trial (where he 
always insisted that he was a bar-TENDER rather than a bar-
setter), enjoy a glass of inexpensive red wine with spaghetti, or 
a Dos Equis with a Mexican meal, or as you walk to the line at 
an agility trial with your dog wearing one of his beautiful 
hand-braided slipleads.

Rocky's response to a casual "how are you today?" was almost 
always an emphatic "WONDERMOUS!!!" uttered with great 
enthusiasm and accompanied by that great smile of his. And 
"wondermous" is how we will all remember him. He was much 
loved and will never be forgotten by his wife Jean; his brother 
Randy (and Ruby) McCreight; his sister Jo (and Ronnie) Merrill; 
Janeen, Tami, Bill, and Gene McCreight; and countless other 
friends and relatives, dogs and horses, to whom he made a 
difference by his presence in our lives. He is especially missed 
by his old Labrador retriever, Kintla, who had such a special 
connection with his "dad."

I give you this one thought to keep -- 
I am with you still -- I do not sleep. 
I am a thousand winds that blow, 
I am the diamond glints on snow, 
I am the sunlight on ripened grain, 
I am the gentle autumn rain. 
When you awaken in the morning's hush, 
I am the swift, uplifting rush 
of quiet birds in circled flight. 
I am the soft stars that shine at night. 
Do not think of me as gone -- 
I am with you still -- in each new dawn.

- Native American Prayer

Arrangements are in the care of D 

Published in Bozeman Daily Chronicle on September 18, 2010