A Western on TV and the youngest daughter in my heart

It’s been a long time since I’ve watched a Western. But it’s
funny, sometimes, how things in life just seem to be on a cosmic
collision course where fate meets reality and causes a
”
moment.
”
There stood James Arness, big as life as
”
Gunsmoke’s
”
Matt Dillon, on the TV screen as I flipped through the channels,
plopped on the couch after a long work day.
It’s been a long time since I’ve watched a Western. But it’s funny, sometimes, how things in life just seem to be on a cosmic collision course where fate meets reality and causes a “moment.”

There stood James Arness, big as life as “Gunsmoke’s” Matt Dillon, on the TV screen as I flipped through the channels, plopped on the couch after a long work day. Wife and daughter were busy getting ready for bed, so no pressure to watch something like “What Not to Wear” or “America’s Next Top Model.” 

My eyes saw Matt Dillon on his steed, of course, and my hand hesitated. All of a sudden I drifted back to the  cozy den where  my white-haired grandfather with the crewcut and bright eyes, Edward Joseph Derry, enjoyed watching “Gunsmoke” and  Westerns like “Maverick,” “Have Gun Will Travel,” “Wagon Train,” and “The Rifleman.” It was sort of Gramps’ guilty pleasure, and for a period in my childhood I quietly shared it.

That’s probably why I really enjoyed watching “Bonanza” – my generation’s signature TV Western – growing up. I can mimic the opening song, “Dun-da-da-dun, da-da-dun, da-da-dun Bonanza …” and see the fire burn through the map of the Sierras at the show opens.

So, nostalgia came over me as I settled in to watch Arness, who starred as Matt Dillon for two decades in the TV series which began in 1955, ride again in the 1990 movie “Gunsmoke: The Last Apache.”

A bit of the movie had gone by, but I quickly caught up. 

Former U.S. Marshall Matt Dillon discovers he fathered a daughter many years ago and the plot revolves around her capture by a noble, yet ill-fated Apache named Wolf who is one of Chief Geronimo’s proudest warriors. Dillon comes to the rescue by arranging a trade – two Indian boys who are in custody and related to Geronimo for the safe return of his daughter Beth.

Like 98.2 percent of Westerns, the main conflict is happily resolved, but not without poignant human suffering along the way.

Toward the end, there is a scene where Beth embraces her father for the first time. As they embrace, Matt Dillon says something like: “I didn’t know I had a daughter, but if I had dreamed of one I would have wanted her to be exactly like you.”

Sappy? Sure, but the moment touched my heart because I’d been thinking a lot about my graduating  daughter, Mariah, who will walk proudly across the stage tonight at Gilroy High School with her cap decorated in orange and black to declare she’s headed to Oregon State University in the fall. 

A nostalgic Western and the last daughter graduating from high school starring in one of those unforeseen cosmic collisions.

So, forgive me this self-indulgence.

Mariah is “The Last of the Mohicans” (how’s that for a Western-genre stretch?), so to speak. She is the “baby” and it’s funny, I never quite understood what that fully meant emotionally until recently. I never understood why my grandmother Nana had a special affinity for Jimmy, the youngest son, or why my Mom thought my youngest brother Matt was so special. 

Maybe it’s because you’ve “grown up” as a parent, or maybe it’s because you realize that a phase of your life is passing on as the “Last of the Mohicans” moves forward. But there’s something different when the youngest takes wing. 

It’s more emotional, too, because of Mariah’s qualities which really can lighten your load on a rough day and make a good day that much better.

She’s quick to laugh, and doesn’t hold back. On long road trips, we’d get a smile and a kick listening to her infectious laughs as she watched a DVD in the back of the pick-up with the headphones on. Music to our ears.

She’s not afraid to take a risk and stand out in the crowd, especially when there’s a spirited reason at school. Dress up as one of the Jonas Brothers with a buddy, I’ve got the picture. Tweedledee costume? Mariah’s in it.

As a youngin’, she loved her Tigger costume … no, I mean she really loved her Tigger costume – daily. After pre-school, her only desire was to don the Tigger costume and that let the good times roll. A picture of Mariah hugging Tigger in Disneyland – taken years after she abandoned the orange-and-black striped suit with the tail – makes me jump up and down inside, smile and sing. Maybe that’s why she chose Oregon State – the orange and black – maybe the SF Giants will finally win a World Series while she’s at OSU …

Mariah’s not the star of the field hockey team nor the graduate with all the awards nor the young lady with the GPA higher than the Eiffel Tower. She’s the girl who’s quick to smile, who has to work at things, who takes her job as a coffee barista at First Street seriously but does it with great joy. She’s the girl that never shied away from giving Dad a kiss goodbye in the morning when being dropped off at school. That it might not be considered “cool” never got in the way of the chance to share a little affection. 

Undoubtedly, she considered the “cool” factor at some point – probably junior high or before – but decided giving Dad a smack on the cheek was more important. Often it’s the small things which add up that define us. 

Mariah’s definition is delightful.

She’s been like one of the flowers in my garden that takes a little extra care, blooms a bit later and, when it does, shines in radiant fashion.

In short, I’m a lot luckier than Matt Dillon. I’ve known my daughter her entire life, and she’s exactly what a father would hope for.

Reach Editor Mark Derry at ed****@****ic.com