Rob Caskey sat close to his mother, Sandra Troy, who was lying on a bed in a room at St. Luke's hospital. The husky, mustached North Carolinian looked at her with the tenderness one might expect of a man spending time with his mom when she'd been going through health difficulties. But there was a difference: Until this week, Caskey, 48, hadn't seen his mom for 30 years. Until recently, he had no idea she was living in Duluth; no idea, in fact, that she was alive. For the past few months, mother and son have been catching up through long, nightly phone conversations. This week, they've talked face to face as Troy recovers from complications that developed following hip surgery. They might never have seen each other again had it not been for Caskey's girlfriend, a traffic manager at a radio station in South Carolina. Caskey's previous connection with his mother ended when he was 18, in his hometown of Salisbury, N.C. Asked if there had been a falling out with his mother, Caskey said it wasn't like that. "It was a bad year," Caskey said, speaking in a soft drawl. "My dad left, and I had a brother that was three years younger than me, ended up getting killed. That was just too much for my mother." She met and married another man, Willie Troy. "I don't blame her at all," Caskey said. Sandra Troy, 75, has lived in Duluth for "a long time," she said, but has retained a drawl that's more pronounced than her son's. She was asleep when a reporter and a photographer first arrived on Thursday, and she seemed weary throughout the conversation. But she insisted that her visitors come in, and she spoke slowly but clearly as she told her part of the story. Willie Troy was a man who didn't like to stay put, she said. They planned to travel to Australia, where he had an opportunity to work on repairs to the famed Sydney Opera House. But before they could get there, his health suddenly deteriorated. "My husband started having dreadful headaches," she recalled. "He was popping pills - aspirin - half a bottle at a time." When he decided to see a doctor, he was told he was "eaten up with cancer." "And he didn't live long after that," Sandra Troy said. When he died, the Troys were in Duluth. It's not entirely clear why they came here, although Sandra Troy referenced the port. It was far from her home, but she has stayed to this day. Caskey, meanwhile, stayed in North Carolina. He and his mother didn't keep in touch. He eventually went into radio engineering, working as a consultant out of Charlotte. Over the past 15 years, Caskey had made several attempts to find his mom, but with no success. His dad told him that she was dead. His consulting work took him to a radio station in Walterboro, S.C., where he worked closely with an employee named Elizabeth Smith. They've been a couple for two years, traveling between Charlotte and Walterboro - about a three-hour drive - on weekends.
Over time, he told Smith about his mother, saying he thought she was dead but didn't know where she was buried. "That just didn't sit well for me," Smith said over the phone. "I'm a closure kind of person." So Smith, 46, did some digging, starting with the Social Security database. It should have indicated if a Sandra Troy with her birth date had died, Smith knew, and there was no such listing. She joined a "people search" network online, and she found a Sandra Troy with the right birthdate in Duluth. Strangely enough, Smith had a connection with Duluth. In 1983, her father was the plant manager for the South Carolina company that purchased Diamond Tool and Horseshoe Co. He was sent to Duluth for three months, where he and his family spent what Smith calls the coldest summer of her life. She called Troy. "I had no idea what her reaction was going to be, because it had been 30 years," said Smith, whose voice evokes sweet iced tea. "I told her I absolutely meant no ill whatsoever. If she told us to go away, we would go away. She got very emotional and said she absolutely did want to reconnect with him." Troy remembers that conversation. "I was very surprised," she said, emphasizing "very." "I said she could work for the FBI and find anybody." That weekend, Caskey called his mom, who was living at Greysolon Plaza. "They talked for probably, oh gosh, I don't remember, but it was at least a couple of hours," Smith said. That was about four months ago. Every day, from then on, Caskey called his mother around 7:30, and they'd talk for at least an hour. One night, she didn't answer the phone. He thought she might have gone to bed early. He called the next morning, and still got no answer. Smith then called Greysolon, asking for a welfare check. She got a call back later informing her that Troy wasn't in her room. Smith searched on Google for Duluth hospitals. She came across St. Luke's first, so she called the hospital and found Troy. It turned out Troy had been feeling unwell, so she took a cab to the hospital and was admitted and treated for anemia. She returned home after several days. By then, Smith and Caskey had made sure his mother was equipped with a cellphone. About a month ago when Caskey called, a Duluth firefighter answered the phone. Troy had fallen and broken her hip, but was able to summon help. She received a hip replacement at St. Luke's and was transferred to Bayshore Health Center for physical rehabilitation. But she developed complications and was sent back to the hospital. From the moment Caskey reconnected with his mother, he intended to come to Duluth to see her, he said. His opportunity came at Christmas, when Smith and her three children presented him with tickets for the flights to Duluth and back. His visit while Troy was in the hospital was coincidental, but the timing worked well. Troy had been unconscious for several days, he said, but she woke up by the time he arrived on Tuesday. Her IVs were removed on Thursday, and she's scheduled to be transferred back to Bayshore today. After she regains strength, Caskey and Smith plan to move her to South Carolina; Caskey eventually will move there to join Smith and her kids. For now, they're taking advantage of the time they have together after so many years apart. As Caskey leaned close to her, Troy looked up at him and said, "It's been a long time since I've seen those gorgeous eyes." Rob Caskey sat close to his mother, Sandra Troy, who was lying on a bed in a room at St. Luke's hospital.The husky, mustached North Carolinian looked at her with the tenderness one might expect of a man spending time with his mom when she'd been going through health difficulties.But there was a difference: Until this week, Caskey, 48, hadn't seen his mom for 30 years. Until recently, he had no idea she was living in Duluth; no idea, in fact, that she was alive.For the past few months, mother and son have been catching up through long, nightly phone conversations. This week, they've talked face to face as Troy recovers from complications that developed following hip surgery.They might never have seen each other again had it not been for Caskey's girlfriend, a traffic manager at a radio station in South Carolina.Caskey's previous connection with his mother ended when he was 18, in his hometown of Salisbury, N.C. Asked if there had been a falling out with his mother, Caskey said it wasn't like that."It was a bad year," Caskey said, speaking in a soft drawl. "My dad left, and I had a brother that was three years younger than me, ended up getting killed. That was just too much for my mother."She met and married another man, Willie Troy."I don't blame her at all," Caskey said.Sandra Troy, 75, has lived in Duluth for "a long time," she said, but has retained a drawl that's more pronounced than her son's. She was asleep when a reporter and a photographer first arrived on Thursday, and she seemed weary throughout the conversation. But she insisted that her visitors come in, and she spoke slowly but clearly as she told her part of the story.Willie Troy was a man who didn't like to stay put, she said. They planned to travel to Australia, where he had an opportunity to work on repairs to the famed Sydney Opera House.But before they could get there, his health suddenly deteriorated."My husband started having dreadful headaches," she recalled. "He was popping pills - aspirin - half a bottle at a time."When he decided to see a doctor, he was told he was "eaten up with cancer.""And he didn't live long after that," Sandra Troy said.When he died, the Troys were in Duluth. It's not entirely clear why they came here, although Sandra Troy referenced the port. It was far from her home, but she has stayed to this day.Caskey, meanwhile, stayed in North Carolina. He and his mother didn't keep in touch. He eventually went into radio engineering, working as a consultant out of Charlotte.Over the past 15 years, Caskey had made several attempts to find his mom, but with no success. His dad told him that she was dead.His consulting work took him to a radio station in Walterboro, S.C., where he worked closely with an employee named Elizabeth Smith. They've been a couple for two years, traveling between Charlotte and Walterboro - about a three-hour drive - on weekends.
Over time, he told Smith about his mother, saying he thought she was dead but didn't know where she was buried."That just didn't sit well for me," Smith said over the phone. "I'm a closure kind of person."So Smith, 46, did some digging, starting with the Social Security database. It should have indicated if a Sandra Troy with her birth date had died, Smith knew, and there was no such listing.She joined a "people search" network online, and she found a Sandra Troy with the right birthdate in Duluth.Strangely enough, Smith had a connection with Duluth. In 1983, her father was the plant manager for the South Carolina company that purchased Diamond Tool and Horseshoe Co. He was sent to Duluth for three months, where he and his family spent what Smith calls the coldest summer of her life.She called Troy."I had no idea what her reaction was going to be, because it had been 30 years," said Smith, whose voice evokes sweet iced tea. "I told her I absolutely meant no ill whatsoever. If she told us to go away, we would go away. She got very emotional and said she absolutely did want to reconnect with him."Troy remembers that conversation."I was very surprised," she said, emphasizing "very." "I said she could work for the FBI and find anybody."That weekend, Caskey called his mom, who was living at Greysolon Plaza. "They talked for probably, oh gosh, I don't remember, but it was at least a couple of hours," Smith said.That was about four months ago. Every day, from then on, Caskey called his mother around 7:30, and they'd talk for at least an hour.One night, she didn't answer the phone. He thought she might have gone to bed early. He called the next morning, and still got no answer. Smith then called Greysolon, asking for a welfare check. She got a call back later informing her that Troy wasn't in her room.Smith searched on Google for Duluth hospitals. She came across St. Luke's first, so she called the hospital and found Troy.It turned out Troy had been feeling unwell, so she took a cab to the hospital and was admitted and treated for anemia. She returned home after several days. By then, Smith and Caskey had made sure his mother was equipped with a cellphone.About a month ago when Caskey called, a Duluth firefighter answered the phone. Troy had fallen and broken her hip, but was able to summon help. She received a hip replacement at St. Luke's and was transferred to Bayshore Health Center for physical rehabilitation. But she developed complications and was sent back to the hospital.From the moment Caskey reconnected with his mother, he intended to come to Duluth to see her, he said. His opportunity came at Christmas, when Smith and her three children presented him with tickets for the flights to Duluth and back.His visit while Troy was in the hospital was coincidental, but the timing worked well. Troy had been unconscious for several days, he said, but she woke up by the time he arrived on Tuesday.Her IVs were removed on Thursday, and she's scheduled to be transferred back to Bayshore today. After she regains strength, Caskey and Smith plan to move her to South Carolina; Caskey eventually will move there to join Smith and her kids.For now, they're taking advantage of the time they have together after so many years apart.As Caskey leaned close to her, Troy looked up at him and said, "It's been a long time since I've seen those gorgeous eyes."
