child
died on March 2, 2001
JOHN CLARK GALVIN
born in Norfolk, Virginia, on December 2, 1949
married Nancy, two children
BRIAN WILLIAM GALVIN
born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on August 26, 1951
died on September 7, 1973
“MICHAEL”
ROBERT MICHAEL GALVIN
born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on June 6, 1953
married Adele (divorced), two children
married Becky
RICHARD CLARK GALVIN
born in West Point, New York, on November 15, 1954
married Kathy (divorced), one child
married Renée
JOSEPH BERNARD GALVIN
born in Novato, California, on August 22, 1956
died on December 7, 2009
MARK ANDREW GALVIN
born in Novato, California, on August 20, 1957
married Joanne (divorced)
married Lisa, three children
MATTHEW ALLEN GALVIN
born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on December 17, 1958
PETER EUGENE GALVIN
born in Denver, Colorado, on November 15, 1960
MARGARET ELIZABETH GALVIN JOHNSON
born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on February 25, 1962
married Chris (divorced)
married Wylie Johnson; daughters Ellie and Sally
“LINDSAY”
MARY CHRISTINE GALVIN RAUCH
born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on October 5, 1965
married Rick Rauch; son Jack, daughter Kate
Part One
DON
MIMI
DONALD
JIM
JOHN
BRIAN
MICHAEL
RICHARD
JOE
MARK
MATT
PETER
MARGARET
MARY
CHAPTER 1
1951
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Every so often, in the middle of doing yet another thing she’d never imagined doing, Mimi Galvin would pause and take a breath and consider what, exactly, had brought her to that moment. Was it the careless, romantic tossing aside of her college education in favor of a wartime marriage? The pregnancies and the children, one after another, with no plan of stopping if Don had anything to say about it? The sudden move out west, to a place that was completely foreign to her? But of all the unusual moments, perhaps none compared to when Mimi—a refined daughter of Texas aristocracy, by way of New York City—clutched a live bird in one hand and a needle and thread in the other, preparing to sew the bird’s eyelids shut.
She had heard the hawk before she saw it. It was nighttime, and Don and the boys were asleep in their new home when there was an unfamiliar noise. They had been warned about coyotes and mountain lions, but this sound was different, the pitch high, the quality otherworldly. The next morning, Mimi went outside, and on the ground, not far from the cottonwood trees, she noticed a small scattering of feathers. Don suggested they bring the feathers to a new acquaintance of his, Bob Stabler, a zoologist who taught at Colorado College, a short walk from where they were living in the center of Colorado Springs.
Doc Stabler’s house was unlike any place they had seen in New York: a home that doubled as a repository for reptiles, mainly snakes, including one that was uncaged—a cottonmouth moccasin, coiled around the back of a wooden chair. Don and Mimi brought their three sons with them, ages six, four, and two. When one of the boys dashed in front of the snake, Mimi shrieked.
“What’s the matter?” Stabler said with a smile. “Afraid it’s going to bite your baby?”
The zoologist had no trouble identifying the feathers. He had been training hawks and falcons as a hobby for years. Don and Mimi knew nothing about falconry, and at first they feigned interest as Stabler went on about it: how, in medieval times, no one beneath the rank of an earl