Important people in my life

(NOTE ABOUT THE PICTURE:  This is a photo of an oil painting done of my father in 1959 while we were living in Galveston, Texas)

I had two of the most wonderful parents God ever blessed a child with.  I'll start with my father.  He was German, came to the US when he was 19 years old.  He was maried before he married my mother and he had two children with his first wife, Belle.  My half-sister, Yvonne, died 5 years ago of a cerebral hemmoraghe.  I don't feel as though I ever got to know her well enough.  My half-brother, Leon, and I have developed a wonderful brother-sister relationship even though I didn't meet him until I was in college and didnt' really get to "know" him until 1988.  He and his lovely wife, Jewel, have dinner with us at least once a month and we keep in touch by phone weekly.  I love him dearly.  He is now 69 years old. 

 My father met my mother in Knoxville.  They married in 1945 and in 1948 they were "blessed" with me.  Because of a heart condition, I was the only child my mother was able to have.  I was my father's "little princess" and he spoiled my outrageously.  I was definately a "daddy's girl".  He would give me anything I wanted unless my mother was able to keep him in reason.  Although frail and a semi-invalid all her life, she was the "rock" of the marriage.  She is what kept our family together. 

My father was a warm, caring, generous (to a fault) individual.  He was also an alcoholic.  His love of the drink caused my mother many a sleepless night.  They fought a lot and loudly.  He would always apologize.  She always accepted it.  And then he would "fall" again.  I never for minute doubted my parents' love for me.  I knew my father had a problem, but I also knew it had nothing to do with me.  In fact, when he would "fall", he sometimes orchastrated some of the most fun times he and I had together.  Once, when we were living on Galveston Island in Texas, he pulled me out of my 5th grade class and took me deep sea fishing with him.  Of course it would have been nice for him to let my mom know about it.  Another time he took me "crabbing" on the beach. 

He was a world-class CHEF - not a cook mind you...but a CHEF.  He could cook anything and cook it well.  He was litterally "known world-wide".  We moved alotbecause of his work.  AND we lived in whatever hotel he was working in - a godsend for Mom since we had maid service and she didn't have to worry about cooking.

To me he was "Pops", "Daddy", and "Papa".  He died on July 7, 1976, a victim of the ciggarettes he loved so well.  A five-pack-a-day man, the cancer was too widespread when finally detected.  It devastated my mother, but she had always been the "strong one" in the family, and life went on...for her...four more years.

     Next entry:  My Mother