He was born in 1920, to loving parents who doted on him and treated him like a little prince. His Mother died of complications of asthma when he was six and he was left in the care of a loving aunt, who moved into their home to care for him and was about the best substitute for a real mother that a young man could have. It was from her that he learned to be a perfect gentleman, generous in every way.
Dad was a public servant, a county hospital administrator in the sleepy Florida town where I grew up with my siblings and our Mother. Dad wasn't an athlete and had no interest in sports; I grew up in a house where we watched news and police action shows if we were allowed to watch tv; we watched the Rose Bowl Parade, not the game.
One of the values instilled by Dad was his love of living things. He was an impatient gardner who loved flowers and landscapes and a beautiful garden setting, but he liked things just so - plants needed to bloom or they were replaced and he had a tendency to over-water and over-feed, a habit that extended to child rearing.
Dad didn't have much experience with other children. As an only child, he spent much time with adults. But he learned a lot of valuable lessons about the importance of communication, taking care of others and giving unto others. He was a very generous person and taught us that it is more important to give, although he also demonstrated again and again the thrill of receiving.
Dad was a very proud grandparent and loved the boys so much. He bought them special gifts, took them on outings and followed all of their activities with interest. We spoke by phone often and Dad ended every call with "we love you sweetheart". How I miss that.
I will always be grateful to Dad for giving me the appreciation for written communication and encouraging me to write. I remember the first year I got to help address the Christmas cards and the fountain pen I received to help me with the task. It felt very important to sign the cards for the family and most of all I loved the encouragement and the time with just the two of us. It was special and all ours.
What a gift my Dad was to so many people. He was also an inspiration with his faith in God. It is fitting that he's watching over us from heaven now, waiting for us to join him and smiling, knowing we will all get through our individual challenges and in the end it will only really matter that we were faithful and, as he was, loving and caring to those around us.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss you every day and especially today.
Love,
Katherine
PS We still laugh about the day Dallas the dog stole your enormous brick of Stilton cheese and you ran through the house yelling "give me back my cheese."
This blog also appears on The Washington Post website
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