...About My Dad

So I mentioned in our last visit that I had lost both my parents in the last several years. I feel like it might be time to talk about them a little. This will take a few blogs. I hope you'll go with me. 

My father was born in Macomb, Illinois. A small place that I remember only small things about. My Grandma worked at a ceramic-ware company. I knew the name once, but it escapes me now. As best as I remember, his father bailed when he was young, and Grandma, and her 3 kids (Joan [pronounced Jo-Ann], Don, and my dad, Richard, who went by Dick) were poor and had to work hard to make it. Joan died when we kids were pretty young to cancer. Don and his family lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Until I was 15, every-other year our family would pack up and drive to Illinois for a few days, and then to Michigan for a few days on vacation. The other years, they would all come south to our place. 

There are 4 of us children - Danny, me, and David (one year apart each), and our sister Anne (six years younger than me). Depending on who you are talking to, stories and feelings about my dad vary. We all have differing remembrances and stories. Some of them are good and some bad. Some paint a less-than-wonderful picture of dad. Some stories are told with a sense of hatred. Most of my personal stories are not hate-filled, but reflect an understanding that we didn't necessarily agree on much. Though we were generally at odds and I didn't like him much, I don't recall that I hated him. I think I just wanted to be allowed to do what I wanted because certainly I was smart enough to make my own decisions about my life and didn't need his control. 

It is imperative that we remember things were hugely different in that time in history. Relationships with your parents weren't based on being friends. Your parents had it rough and that was just the way it was. It was quite true then that "Children were meant to be seen, not heard." Much later in life, I remember my father told me, "We didn't have a manual. We struggled to know what to do and just did the best we knew how." I have admitted for many years now that "the older I get, the smarter he was!"  But, I digress...  

In my grown life, I have always described my dad as a truly self-made man. He had limited opportunities while young. Money was tight; sometimes there just wasn't much at all. One story I remember from him was that there was a time when the four of them in his family were living in someone's garage, and hung a sheet on a rope across the middle of the garage to make two rooms. I have never had to live like that. At a point, he joined the Army and ultimately went to OCS and became a 2nd Lieutenant. He was stationed at Ft. McClellan, AL in the 1950s. It would be during his time there that he would have the occasion to attend a USO dance or two that would forever change his life.

We will let him hang right there for now while we talk about my mom. And THAT will be our next blog entry! Please stay tuned! 

.