My first memory was of my father, not my mother. I remember being in the cradle and crying because I wanted - something. He came to the crip and asked me which pacifier I wanted - the red one or the yellow one. I remember choosing the red. That was the first thing I remember in this world. 

Dad was a great guy as everyone will attest. He grew up during the Depression and his father was a railroad man. The railroad didn't want to lay too many people off so they had a job sharing arrangement, with grandpa working a couple of months then being laid off a couple of months. When he was laid off they shipped my dad (by boxcar) to the tiny little town of Bismarck, Mo. where his grandmother owned a farm. It was, uh, rustic; no electricity, no running water, no heat except wood stoves, etc. They used an outhouse to go to the bathroom, and they got water out of the creek behind the house for drinking. Eventually great grandma sprang for a well but it tasted of kerosene (she probably had oil on the property like Jed Clampett but didn't know it.) So they continued to drink water from the creek. They had to be careful; cottonmouths and copperheads liked to hang out down there too. When they got too bad great grandma would rent a couple of pigs and they'd clean 'em out.

(Speaking of great grandma, she was about 4 foot ten and eighty nine pounds of pure spitfire. Her husband was also a railroad guy and he would be gone three days a week, and on the fourth day would stay in town so he could go to the local saloon. Grandma was a Methodist and thought drink was bad. Anyway, she employed a black family to work for her and one night the Ku Klux Klan showed up, demanding she turn them over. Granny did what any self-reliant person would do; she went inside, got her shotgun, and calmly told them if they didn't leave now she'd blow their heads offf. They left.)

At any rate Dad was drafted into the Army where he was put in the 101st Airborn but his fear of heights made it impossible. He eventually settled into the 28th Infantry "the Bloody  Bucket" where he won an award for best marksman in his company. He turned down an opportunity to go to OCS (because it meant an extra year in the service) and he was sent to Germany, where he went on maneuvers and drank a lot of German beer. And flirted with a lot of fraulines. 

Upon returning from the Army Dad met my mother and they married in 1960. Eric came along in '61, Brian 11 months later, and I showed up a few years after - in 1964.

He was a good, loving father and devoted husband and everyone liked him; he was easy-going and charming. He loved sports and was quite athletic in his day.

He was raised Methodist but converted to Catholicism in time to be my Confirmation sponsor. He was far more devout as a Catholic than he had been as a Methodist. 

At my wife's funeral he was the happiest I had seen him in some time. He wasn't happy about Cathy dying but he liked seeing his three sons together and all the family and friends. It was kind of his farewell party in addition to my wife's. 

At any rate I'll miss him very much. 

Posted by: Dana Mathewson at January 22, 2026 01:49 AM (kRAxH)

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at January 22, 2026 08:54 AM (umJ+Y)

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