Father of the Man Author Dr. Peter L Colman

The last time I saw Grandpa Moy was during the summer of my freshman year in college (1967). Grandpa was living at the old County Farm in Goffstown, just across the road from the Old Hillsborough County Hospital where I was born. As I stepped up to the battered porch where he was sitting statuesque in an old rocking chair, I greeted him and extended my hand. Whether he recognized me, I will never know. If I accurately recall the moment, I believe that I had had every intention to read a few encouraging words from ‘the Good Book,’ but before I had gotten too far, he started reciting the twenty-third Psalm from memory. It is doubtful that he ever really understood that his great grandson was even present. That’s all that I remember. No, doubt, he was a more sober, smarter man in his final days. Perhaps he was still chaffing and smarting from his frequent foray into infidelity. Grandma Moy had ‘given him hell,’ and he was longing for heaven.

After the war, my own parents, Robert Everett Colman and Doris (‘Dotty’) Rogers Colman (discussed in depth in a later chapter), found themselves regrettably incompatible, and divorced in 1956. This unfortunate event occurred in spite of my father’s extraordinary zeal and commitment to the Christian faith, and to the local church, leaving an only son without a Dad at home.








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