My father was born on February 3rd, 1925 to a couple of poor, alcoholics living in a coldwater flat in downtown St. Louis. He was the oldest of 4 children (2 boys and 2 girls). There are stories, not sure if they are true, that they would steel food so they did not go hungry. When he was 11 years old, his father died, presumably due to alcoholism. As a teen ager, he was drafted into WWII, and before he left he made sure to marry his sweet heart and knock her up. Later, the baby was still born.
While my father was off in France fighting the war, he met and had an affair with a women named Simone. Her husband was in jail at the time. After Pop returned to the states, he found out that Simone was pregnant with his child. So both Pop and Simone got divorced and Simone and my older brother Chuck, who was born(in 1946)by then, moved to the United States. My father married Semone and adopted Chuck and two years later they had my older sister Linda (born in 1948).
My father went to college on the GI bill and received a bachelor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering. He got a job at McDonald Douglas Corp. designing fighter jets for government contracts. He also got a pilot’s license, which was a lifelong dream of his. As a child, we always flew our little 4 seater airplane to Grandma and Grandpa’s house! My father and Simone also purchased a lovely 4 bedroom ranch home in the best school district. They were living the American dream!!
Then, my father craving a more intellectual partner met my mother at work and started an affair with her. He later divorced Simone and married my mother on August 1st, 1964. My mother did not have children and was over 30 so she set about starting a family right away. I was born on August 29th the following year. My brother Chuck was in Vietnam fighting the war, so they moved his stuff out and made his room the nursery. Some years later he confided that he didn’t like me much back then, taking his room and all. When I was about 3 ½ years old, my little brother, Bill, was born. I actually remember the day he came home from the hospital and I remember feeling jealous!
Pop wore a suit and carried a brief case and we thought he was very successful. Later, as an adult, I learned that my father was a smart guy, but my mother is a REALY intelligent person. She is freaky smart. She has an Electrical Engineering degree and graduated with honors in only 3 years!! She told me that classes were free after 21 credit hours…..so she loaded up.
As a child, I worshipped my father, but I guess all little girls do. My father was not one to play with us or lavish us with love and attention. Mostly, we were trained to be good and not bother him. If we were lucky, we could watch him do a household project or sit by him and watch “All in The Family”, which was one of his favorite shows. I remember we were not allowed to talk during the news, so we would wait for the commercial and then yammer away.
He did teach me to ride a bicycle…..sort of. He took the training wheels off and gave me a push and I just did it; started riding. I can’t recall what I was thinking at the time, but I would not be surprised if it was “better get this right or I might be in trouble!” He certainly ruled by fear.
We had a modern kitchen table with swivel chairs. The chairs had metal leg with four “feet” that stuck out. If you got in trouble at the kitchen table, he would smack you so hard you might fall off the chair and land on the metal feet, which was very painful. This must have happened to me many times because I remember it so well. My brother Chuck told me that he too remembered being smacked off those yellow swivel chairs by Pop.
Mostly, I remember the feeling that everyone was always on their best behavior so as not to piss him off. I refer to it as “walking on egg shells”. I am sure my mother warned us over and over again not to do this or that because it would make him angry and no one wanted him angry!
Then one Saturday, it was about 1975, my father got up, rented a small U-Haul and loaded up a few choice belongings and left. I did not understand what was really happening. They told me he was leaving, but I think I assumed he would be back. It took awhile for the reality to set in. My little brother doesn’t remember this day, but I do.
After that, my father would pick us up on Tuesday at 5 pm and take us to McDonald’s (probably our choice) and buy us dinner. He did not eat. We would sit and chat and then at 6 pm he would return us to our mom’s house. We never went to his house except Christmas and Fathers Day and we NEVER spent the night, not once. He mailed my mother the child support checks like clockwork and paid for part of my brother college, per the divorce decree, but usually if you asked him for help or money, he would turn you down.
One day he showed up on Tuesday wearing a wedding ring and I asked and he told me that he had gotten married. I recall feeling slighted that he did not tell us about it before it happened and then, he did not mention it until I actually asked. We were just not part of his life anymore and that hurt.
Many years later, I knew the whole story. He had met a woman at work. I think she was an executive secretary. She was not young or beautiful, but I guess he thought she was classy, that she was a step up from my mother. At the time he moved out of our house, she also left her husband and they moved into an apartment together. They are still married to this day!
When I was 30, I moved a few hours away from where my father was living and when I was in town I would call and ask if I could stop by. More than once, he told me that he was busy with the shopping or trimming his hedges or whatever, so, “no” we could not stop by.
When he and Mona got older, they decided to stop the Christmas and Fathers day get together because they were too much work. All four of his kids offered to help so it would be less work for them, but they were not interested in making it happen.
The last time I was there (probably in 2001), I really felt as though they did not want me around. And it really hurt my feelings. I cried all the way home. So I decided I would never put forth an effort to see him or call him again. I decided that it was always disappointing and painful so why bother. I was open to him making an effort to be a part of my life, but I knew that was not going to happen. He NEVER called me, not once to talk or ask to visit.
So, years went by and he never contacted me and I did not contact him. At some point, my sister asked me why I hated Pop. I told her I love him and asked why she thought I did not. She said “you never call him or visit”. I said “he never calls me either!”
