Packing up Dad's Things and Remembering. Weekend in Laguna and Visiting Family.

I just returned from an extended trip to California.  I helped Mom with some heavy cleaning around her home and we sorted through all Dad's clothes and things she still had in the garage.  We donated most of it, but I kept three of his handkerchiefs.  I gave one to my sister and I kept two.  Dad ALWAYS carried a handkerchief.  I can still remember his sneeze and the way he blew his nose... Makes me smile just to think of it...

I took some of his shoe-stretchers for my husband, a letter opener and the noisy cow bell Dad used to hang from the front door when he lived at home.  He was so paranoid about someone breaking into the house. He was sure that noisy thing would startle any intruders and would certainly let him know trouble was in progress.

We still have so many of his books in Mom's office.  Dad had made book shelves in the closet to store some of them.  He had old college class books from Cal Poly on Mathematics, Science, Botany, Fertilization, Drafting, Design; books on Chess, Nature, Gold Mining and lots of  How to Fix It type books.

Mom still feels too disrespectful to get rid of them because Dad always held his books with such high regard...

One of the chores I did for Mom was to trim the Pomegranate tree outside her back porch.  I started that tree over fifty years ago when I used to steal the fruit off a neighbors tree, bring it home and sit on the back porch, spitting out the white part of the seeds after I had eaten the juicy red parts.  The tree is huge and produces so much fruit.

Mom sat on the patio and kept me company, often telling me to stop and rest...which I ignored.  I was using one of Dad's old Loppers, which had not been sharpened in several years.  Mom said I grimaced the same way Dad did when he trimmed it.  I told her I felt Dad was with me, helping guide me as to what branches to cut and which to keep.  I really did.

I have fond memories of Dad and I working in the yard together...he would always start by telling me the plants technical name and then it's common name.  He would tell me how much water to give it and how to trim the leaves, as if he were talking about a child I needed to know about when I babysat.  Some how he always made me feel like we were doing something so important and doing it with honor for living things.

He had me talking to the plants and feeling perfectly sane in doing so.  Later, after I moved out into my own apartment, I would leave classical music on for my plants.  I am still convinced it is why they all flourished and grew so big and healthy.

I attended one of my son in law's Mother's Memorial.  She battled cancer for over a year and died early Christmas morning.  It was a wonderful service.  My son in law and one of his dear friends worked on an extremely moving video of her life.  Very emotional.  A young 9 year old girl, unrelated to the family, other than friendship, had adopted Me-Maw (as all the grand kids called her) as her Grandmother-Me-Maw.
She wanted to sing a song in her honor and sang, In the Arms of an Angel.  If the song was not enough, her voice was like an angel, and there was not a dry eye in the entire room!

I spent a couple days with my youngest daughter, son in law and my three year old grandson....who was constantly reminding me of his baby sister residing in his Mother's belly and how she will be here soon to play with him...They had all been sick with the flu after the Memorial and my daughter was due to have her shower for my first grand daughter the day before I was to leave.  I said a prayer to keep me healthy and not to have my back go out as I disregarded all warnings by family members to not go because I might get sick.

I am happy to say, my daughter and son in law were able to get plenty of rest so she was able to attend her shower and I did not get sick or throw out my back.

I also visited my oldest daughter and my three grand sons.  Can you believe the 9 month old is walking already?  Or should I say, running?  And on his tip toes??  He has a rough time cutting teeth and constantly grunts to communicate.... He sounds like a little cave man, or a baby bear or elephant.  Once in a while he lets out a squeal...a laugh...usually when one of his brothers come into the room.  The older brother is 11 and the younger one is 9.  The baby just lights up with both of them and they get the biggest charge out of the little guy.

It was so good seeing everyone...I miss them so much.  I am grateful I am only 3.5 or 4 hours away instead of having to hop on a plane and fly to them.

Mom, my sister Holly, my youngest daughter and I had all planned to spend Martin Luther King weekend in Laguna Beach at the Pacific Edge Hotel.  Since my daughter was still sick, she did not get to join us.  We had a wonderful, relaxing time, but decided to come home one day early because my daughter felt so bad missing the weekend she insisted on still paying her portion.  By leaving early, we paid a little bit less than what our portions would have been if she had come.

My sister and I took a long walk on the beach, taking pictures and walked quite a ways.  There were several people walking their dogs on the beach, but on our way back, I noticed a woman walking a huge, white wolf.  I brought it to the attention of my sister and she did not believe me.  Sure enough, it was a rescued wolf from a sanctuary in Lucerne Valley.

A few months ago, I had been to a Meditation class.  I was particularly focused on wanting to connect with my Dad.  Instead, I got a visit from a big white wolf who guided me through the woods, lush plants and flowers to a clearing on a bluff above the ocean.  I sat with the wolf and enjoyed the view.

I asked the woman if the wolf had a name and she told me his name was Journey.  I got goose pimples thinking of my white wolf vision and the title of my blog being Mystical Journeys... It gave me such a good, peaceful feeling, as if it was destiny.

Memories of Dad and Blog Updates...

I've been cleaning out my garage and the section I used to use for my art studio.  I have been piling stuff on top of my work table and it had gotten way out of hand...

I came across the bin with ALL my Dad's saved letters and cards given to him for birthdays, Father's Day and get well wishes prior to him going into the nursing home.  He saved every one.  It has taken me a couple weeks to go through it with respect.  I tore the covers off some of the cards and put them in my stash for creative inspiration for future paintings...

I cut off stamps and the post marks of some of the older envelopes to save for one of my brothers who collects stamps...I saved all the letters so I can read and determine if a family member would like to have them back for sentimentality of for reference of memories.

I found both my and my youngest daughter's High School announcements.  I found a congratulations card from 1947 when I was born.  I found some cool stuff I plan to keep.

I also found all Dad's ties.  I was going to take it to California for Christmas and do what my son in law suggested and have each of us put on one of Dad's ties and then take a picture...but for some reason, I decided not to...  I also can't part with them... yet.  My oldest daughter suggested I make something from them.  I stored them in my art cupboard for further thought....later.

I found Dad's recorders.  One with a tape in it.  Unfortunately, he had misplaced the power cords....but he had the microphone.  I still have a tape/CD player and plan on listening to them one of these days...maybe when my sister comes to visit in March...

Two of my brothers are working on some tapes my youngest brother ran across just before Dad died.  He had recorded family history questions he posed to both Mom and Dad.  We only listened to Dad''s one night as a family, after Dad died.  I'll see what is on the tapes I found and then give them to my brothers to put on Cd's with the others.

I have a bin of my Dad's journals.  I'll start to read them, but find I get too sad.  It is so apparent he knew he was slipping and was doing his best to record everything...even the most mundane, because I think he struggled so much with routine daily things.

I've made a lot of progress with my Art Studio, whipping it back into shape, taking stock of all my supplies and gathering paintings I have done to upload onto my gallery on the online website.  I have opened a Pay Pal account, but have to call them tomorrow to answer a few questions before I join the online painting website.

I also opened my business account with my business name....but am still deliberating on my decision to use Mystical Journeys as my Art Blog.. with intermittent posts about my thoughts of Dad...or just making a new blog for my art.

I think I am pretty certain, for now, I will keep Mystical Journeys for writing about Dad...and what is going on in my life...and if I feel the need to do an art blog, I will know whether to combine it with this one or do a new one...

A Productive, Busy, Family Week... Dad's Final Plans Made.

I drove to California Wednesday, August 21st so Mom and I could pick up Dad's belongings from the nursing home.  When we arrived we were surrounded by tearful staff members sharing condolences and giving us warm, loving hugs.  Mom and I were there over two hours.  We were so touched by their outpouring of genuine love and loss for Dad.

Another testament to the quality of this nursing home, none of Dad's possession were missing.  I just cannot express how very blessed we were when I found this particular nursing home.  I think of it so highly, if I would ever need a nursing home, I would want to go there!

Thursday Mom and I filled out the pre-arranged paperwork for Dad's cremation with Neptune Society and took the forms in Friday morning.  I cannot stress enough how important it is to make final arrangements prior to your loved one's death...it made the whole process just fall into place.

Friday night, all the siblings, Mom and I met at my brother K_____'s home for a BBQ.  We all agreed we felt we were in a mental fog and knew some good food and laughter would clear our minds...

After a delicious meal of hamburgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, cabbage salad, baked beans and my sister's yummy chocolate eclair cake for dessert; we sat around and talked.  K's daughter, presented Mom with a framed collage she made from some of the family pictures of Mom and Dad before and after their wedding.  She also included pictures of us as a family, when we were all small and all living in the family home, Brutus - Dad's precious dog, Dad in his Magician's top hat and cape....lots of memories and conversations were sparked from those wonderful photos...

My brother E___ had interviewed Dad and Mom back in 2001 when he was doing some family genealogy.  He found the tape and brought it over along with his tape deck so we all could hear it.

My brother put the tape in and everyone gathered in the family room, lying on the floor, sitting on chairs and couches, some of us leaning against one another. As he pushed play, I noticed my brother S___ was lying on his back on the floor with his arms folded behind his head. He had a smile on his face and his eyes closed.  Looking around the room I felt "home-cozy", so comfortable and full of peace being with my family, sharing this moment in time together.

It was good to hear Dad's voice when it was strong and full.  As I heard him speak, I remembered a speech pattern he used to have before going into the nursing home.  He would get so involved in telling a story, his mouth would fill with too much saliva, so he would have to swallow, but in doing so, he kind of make a slight slurp sound as he swallowed as he continued on with his story.  I enjoyed hearing it again...

We all learned something new about Dad, and would turn off the tape to discuss it, or laugh at something, or rewind and listen again because we were all laughing or commenting to something he had said...

Dad told of being held back a year in school because of a "prank" he played at school...Dad had decided to ditch school, but before he faked being sick (so he would be sent home), he put a smoke bomb and a huge chunk of Limburger cheese up inside the school's duct work.

Dad lived up on a bluff above the school, so after he arrived home, he positioned himself at the big window over looking the valley below and watched the smoke bellowing out of the school as teachers and students alike, ran from the school building holding their noses.... Yep, he got in big trouble for that stunt!

My grand father, his Dad, was away a lot, traveling.  Grandpa and my Uncle were inventors.  Dad and his sisters were cared for during the day by the family help.  Grandpa frequently ordered large blocks of Limburger cheese to put on crackers and some thick syrup goop for his pancakes called "sorghum molasses."

Dad brought up the time when he played with matches behind a stuffed arm chair and set himself on fire when he was three years old.  His Mother and the ironing lady put out the flames with a red Oriental rug.  He made sure we all heard that story so we would learn not to play with fire...

It was midnight by the time we finished with Dad's portion of the interview.  We had not had time to listen to Mom's, so we will save it for the next family gathering, this Saturday.

We talked earlier before listening to the tape on what we wanted to do for Dad's service.  We all agreed we wanted the service private...only family...and family would include the staff at the nursing home, as well as the hospice staff, because the quality of care and concern they gave Dad.

I mentioned to the family that the nursing home planned on doing the Alzheimer's Walk November 2, 2013 in Huntington Beach and wanted to know if we would like to join them.  Everyone thought it would be a great way to honor what would have been Dad's 93rd birthday month...  My sister, niece and oldest daughter volunteered to co-ordinate the Walk...

I also shared with everyone, how the Activity's Director at the Nursing home, also wanted to plant a garden in the corner of the courtyard at the nursing home and call it Don's Garden.  Everyone agreed is was a perfect idea and how much Dad would have been so pleased.  When Dad first came to the nursing home, he helped the Activity Director plant window boxes with bright cheery flowers.

We talked of doing a family BBQ at Mom's house, using Dad's BBQ and playing horse shoes...one of Dad's favorite games.  One of the brothers suggested we all wear Bermuda shorts, white tube socks with sandals, Hawaiian shirts and straw hats to salute Dad's unique style of attire at most family outings...and everyone loved that idea!

I was elected to check with Riverside National Cemetery (RNC) to see what was involved so Dad could have a Military Ceremony.  We felt his service during WWII as a US Marine fighting in the Battle of Tarawa in the Gilbert Islands deserved such an honorable final resting place.  We hoped we could have the service in the morning on Saturday, September 7, and then the BBQ that afternoon...

Over the weekend, I discovered RNC does not do services on the weekends, only Monday through Friday,  but first I had to contact head quarters back in St. Louis, Missouri to determine Dad's eligibility by sending his Discharge paperwork.  After obtaining a case number of approval, I could contact RNC and schedule a service.  After I had the date, I could contact the US Marines to schedule an Honors ceremony.

By Monday morning I had emailed Dad's necessary paperwork to St. Louis and secured a case number from RNC.  I was given the date of Friday, September 6, 2013 at 1pm for Dad's Military service.  Dad's remains will be interred in the Columbarium at RNC because Dad did not want to be buried.

I had attempted to schedule the Honors ceremony, but was told I was "too early.  I was instructed to call Thursday morning, which was the day I planned to return to Nevada.

Mom and I picked up Dad's remains on Wednesday, August 28th and brought them back home.  We cannot praise Neptune Society enough for their efficiency, compassion, excellent customer service and the kindness they bestowed on Mom and I when we first brought in the signed pre-arranged paperwork for Dad's cremation and again when we picked up the remains.  We would highly recommend their services.

All the work Mom and I did organizing Dad's paperwork, Mom making pre-arranged plans with Neptune Society (after attending a lecture by Barbara Karnes RN), and organizing all the family photos really made our job so much easier last week.

I helped Mom with some house hold things, one goal was to find Mom a house keeper. Mom, my sister in law and their house cleaner, met to give Mom an estimate to clean her home.  At 86, Mom just can't clean and bend like she used to and she deserves to have someone come in and clean the house for her.  Mom has never had anyone clean besides our family, so this was a big deal for Mom.

I told Mom just as the Alzheimer's Support Group has helped her emotionally and mentally, the cleaning lady would help so much physically and mentally too.  She likes the idea of freeing up her time to read, do cross stitch Christmas Stockings for all the new babies born and on their way, as well as have more time to lunch and do fun things with her friends.

Mom has decided to stay in her Support Group because she feels she would give people hope who are just beginning their journey with their loved ones and Alzheimer's.

My sister in law and brother K____ told Mom they would take her out to Mathis Brothers in Ontario so Mom could select a new couch, love seat, and a couple of comfortable easy chairs.  When my other niece who was living with Mom, got married and moved out, she took her couch with her...so Mom needs some more furniture.

Thursday morning, I called the Marines and scheduled the Honors ceremony for Dad and emailed them Dad's discharge paperwork as well.  I was told we would have three Marines on deck, one to play taps, two to fold and present the flag to Mom.  I asked for full honors which would be a 21 gun salute, but the Marine I spoke with told me I would get a phone call about that, depending on how many Marines would be available...

On my way home, I received a call from a Sargent with the Marines.  I was told there would now be 11 Marines on deck to provide my Father with full honors.  Eight additional Marines will each fire three rounds to honor Dad's service for our country in a 21 Gun Salute.  I could not help it...I burst into tears.  This means everything to our family and this Marine just made my day!!

Mom had told me one of her friends had asked for the gun casings to save for the grand children, so I asked if that would be possible to save them for ours.  He told me he would work it out and present them to Mom along with the American flag.

My husband and I will leave this Thursday and stay over night in Riverside at a friend's home who lives ten minutes from Riverside National Cemetery. I want to arrive an hour early to deliver Dad's urn, the flag, the burial permit and to fill out the monument paperwork.

Dad's plaque will have a Christian Cross, his name, Corporal, USMC, WWII, Date of birth, Date of Death, and the inscription:  Loving Family Man - Semper Fi.

Saturday, September 7th we will all gather at my brother K____ and his wife T____ home, once again generously providing a safe and happy place to reminisce, laugh, eat and enjoy precious time with our family.

My husband and I will spend Friday and Saturday night with my youngest daughter and her new husband in Lake Elsinore and then Sunday with my oldest daughter's family in Beaumont.  We'll return to Nevada on Monday.  I will post pictures of Dad's service upon my return....Hugs, blessings and love to you all...

Newlywed Flashbacks...

This picture of Dad and Mom was taken in Bremerton, WA, August 5, 1945, the day after their wedding in front of the Enetai Inn where his parents and sisters stayed when they drove up for Dad and Mom's wedding.  Mom and Dad are leaning up against Dad's Father's car.  Dad and Mom did not own a car at the time and got around through public transportation.

Talk about a good looking couple...so in love.  They knew one another seven months and their marriage lasted 68 years and two weeks.  Not bad....

Looking Back and Looking Forward...

The vote was unanimous with my family to welcome Hospice as an extension of our family in helping in Dad's care and assuring the dignity he deserves...

I received an email from Dad's primary care physician today, telling me he did not see amputation of Dad's left pinkie toe at this particular time.  The cryotherapy did not stop the infection, but the infection is not progressing and getting any worse.  I guess I anticipated the doctor to tell me Dad would need the amputation, which has given me some pause...

I found myself second guessing myself...asking myself, my brother and Mother whether I should make a trip to California and attempt to explain all this to Dad... I know Hospice will be a positive experience for Dad in that he will gain more visitors, have more advocates for his well being and care, as well as possibly stimulating him by new faces and new conversations....

I am mainly concerned Dad will react negatively if he should realize they are from Hospice. I don't want him to feel we betrayed him because of the distorted feelings he had about hospice.  Dad used to be a volunteer Chaplain and visited patients in nursing homes and hospice.  Unfortunately, it was the last years, prior to be admitted to the nursing home, when he was becoming more demented.  He was still compassionate, but he took on the symptoms, the regrets and the rights of those patients to heart. Even though he had some hospice training, his mind was confused and for him, Hospice means dying and he became very suspicious toward doctors.

Early on, three years ago when Dad was first admitted to the nursing home, he had recovered from his pneumonia, was on the last leg of the antibiotics, his leg ulcers were being treated and he was going to be transferred to the nursing home where he used to work as a volunteer.  Several of the hospital staff knew Dad,  which may have been both comforting and emotionally challenging for Dad.

I told the nursing home I wanted to be with Dad in the ambulance when they transferred him across the parking lot to the nursing home.  I waited all day at the hospital with my brothers, waiting for the hospital to transport Dad.  Finally, at 8pm, the hospital told me they would NOT be transporting Dad and they would move him in the morning.

Dad had called me at his home, where I was staying.  He asked me to come get him.  I told him he was still under the doctor's care and he had to stay there.  It was so difficult for me because he sounded scared.  I told him I would see him in the morning...

At midnight that night, the hospital called to tell me they were going to transport him. I told them I could not drive there as I have vision problems at night.  I argued with them as they had told me he would NOT be moved until the next morning. They assured me Dad would be escorted and doing fine with it and there were no problems...

The next morning I went to the nursing home and discovered Dad was still at the hospital.  When I arrived, Dad seemed "out of it" like he was drugged.  I inquired around and after piecing things together due to new staff on different shifts, I found out Dad had gone into "combat mode" and fought the transport, even hitting a nurse.  They sedated him with Halidol and decided to keep him in the hospital.

I raised HOLY HELL with the Administration office and the Director of Nursing.  I TOLD them he would not have gotten aggressive if I had been there. After feeding him breakfast,  I rode with Dad and got him settled in his room at the nursing home.  Dad still seemed sedated and seemed sleepy, so I told him I would stay until he fell asleep and Holl Doll (my sister) would be coming to visit him.

It was my birthday and I was having dinner with my husband and daughter when my sister called to tell me Dad was still sleeping and she had been unable to wait him up.  Not thinking anything about it, I told her we planned on coming the next morning.

When we arrived, Dad was still sleeping.  I asked the nurses and doctors and was told Dad had not waken for lunch, dinner or breakfast. His lunch tray sat untouched next to his bed.  The doctor had no explanation as to why he was not waking and described Dad to be in a sleep like coma.  I called the rest of the family and everyone came down to hold vigil at his bed side.  We decided against any intervention by MRI or tests because the doctor did not really have any explanation ...(except Dad had a bad reaction to the Halidol!!!) or guarantee Dad would wake up.  We decided to contact Hospice, but asked they not announce they were from hospice, should Dad awake.

As we were all milling about around Dad's bed, my daughter Jodee was sitting beside his bed, quietly and gently describing pictures my two grandsons had drawn for him.  I was watching her with tears in my eyes at how sweet she was with him, when I saw Dad's eyes flutter.  In an instant later, Dad opened his eyes.

When he saw all of us standing around his bed, his eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open in a huge smile of surprise and delight....we all gathered around him hugging, kissing, laughing, cheering and being so happily relieved.  My brother E____ referred to Dad's coma as his "Rip Van Winkle".

About an hour later, some of us had left and some were in the hallway making phone calls, I was in the restroom, and the hospice social worker arrived in Dad's room, announcing she was with HOSPICE and handing him her card.  Dad dismissed her promptly, yelling at her he was NOT DYING!

This memory is still vivid in my mind.  I was so upset with the social worker and she apologised profusely about forgetting she was not suppose to tell him she was with hospice...but we never broached the subject again, until now...

It is the common perception to equate Hospice and dying, but for most of our family, it now means the best quality of life we can give Dad in his remaining time alive.

I still feel protective of Dad.  I reminded the hospice expert several times about not mentioning the word hospice to Dad....along with other words such as dementia, Alzheimer's, biopsy or surgery.  Dad reacts in fear with any of those words.  He assured me they would not mention being from hospice, unless asked directly, then they would not lie to him.  He told me they would tell Dad they were friends of our family and give him a chance to feel more comfortable with the team, should Dad ask them.

When I told the hospice expert I would email him all the names of the members of our family and give him some background on Dad, his personality, interests and an over view of some of his medical issues, he told me how much it would help the hospice team....

My main concern is to be honest with Dad and I feel maybe I should go and talk with Dad and explain what is happening...but I think I waited too long.  I should have discussed this with him when he could grasp what I was saying.  Maybe I am feeling guilty that I failed Dad in a way for not preparing him...but would have he remembered anyway?

The hospice expert and Mom both feel we should go forward and my second thoughts are just protective symptoms with Dad...

Each day is a new day and we all do our best to find any remnant of anything positive.  We know we are coming from a place of love and only want the best for Dad...so it is that very thought I must continue to embrace...

Our Prayers Were Answered and Laughter IS The Best Medicine...

Thank you so much everyone for your prayers. THEY WORKED!

My brother passed the treadmill test with dye.  The radiologist said he did not have any blockage in his arteries!  He was discharged from the hospital today and no doubt is home in his bed getting some good sleep because he DID NOT get any at the hospital...

It looks like it was stress.

I spoke with him this morning and he sounded WONDERFUL!  He said they put a Nitroglycerin patch on him and it gave him a horrible headache and made him nauseated.  The doctor removed it today.  Last night, they told him if he had a clogged artery, they would have to put in a stint.  Thank God he is OK.

When we talked this morning, we laughed and made jokes. It is typical for our family when we are are on the other side of something terrible. We definitely believe, laughter IS the best medicine...

I asked how the food was and he told me it was horrible because he didn't have anything to eat since 7am yesterday...that patch made him too sick to eat...and he is never too sick to eat... I asked how the coffee was...because my brother LOVES HIS JOE (aka coffee). 

"I'm holding a cup in my hand right now...". 

I laughed.  A cup of coffee in his hand is as much him as are his dimples.  He had just finished his stress test and it was his first request! His wife made sure he got his wish...

I told him I had chest pains when I worked for the federal courts... I asked he was under any stress...

"Well, yeah...I have to work..." 

After my brother graduated high school, I let him live with me in my little beach bungalow in Belmont Shores. He slept on the couch and I slept in the Murphy bed.  We had a great time, philosophizing and listening to Rod McKuen poetry on an album called, THE SEA...

I got him his first job at Big Johns Pizza in nearby Long Beach...and his second job at Charley Browns restaurant, where I worked as a cocktail server.  We would stay up late after we got off work, walk down to 2nd street and have dinner at Hamburger Henry's.  We have lots of fun and memorable memories, but this particular one is my favorite...

One late night not too long after he first moved in, he awoke from the couch and stumbled in a drowsy haze to use the bathroom. I had an old wooden Coca Cola crate on the wall, as a shelf to hold my lotion and bath powder.  It was a tiny bathroom.  We had to shut the door, not only for privacy but to get to the toilet.

Living at the beach, there were cockroaches.  BIG ONES...  So huge you could throw a saddle on one! 

As he finished what he went in to do, still in the dark, (can someone please explain to me why men pee in the dark?) he felt something on his foot and naturally jumped.... only to feel a disgusting "crunch" under his bare feet.

He immediately made a growling yell of repulsion and began to flail his arm in search of the light switch. Instead, his arm banged into the crate on the wall. The shelf fell and spilled my bath powder all over him and the bathroom in a cloud of sweet smelling chalkiness. He began to sneeze uncontrollably...crashing and banging, attempting to open the bathroom door...

The loud ruckus woke me from my peaceful slumber.  Heart pounding, I turned on the light to see my 6'2" brother, covered in my favorite perfumed White Shoulders bath powder... Sneezing one giant, boisterous sneeze after another, attempting to tell me what had happened...

I had to laugh.  You would have too. So did he. I wet a dish towel and shoved it at his nose.  He finally stopped sneezing and cleaned himself up.  He showed me the smashed cockroach as we laughed hysterically. In our giddiness, we decided to put the "deceased" into a shoe box and deliver it to our landlord.  My brother wrote the note..."I thought you said the policy was, NO PETS?"

In those days, he was like the North Wind...he would blow in awhile, feel restless, and then off again, toward his next adventure.  He didn't stay at one job very long, but with his personality and Tom Selleck good looks, he never had any difficulty in finding one. 

He and a friend decided to go on a road trip.  We had seen the movie, Blume In Love, where Kris Kristofferson takes off on an adventure and then sends Susan Anspach a postcard which read, "Nothin' to it".  That's what my brother did.  Sent me a post card saying, "Nothin' To It".

He eventually came home, got another job, then quit suddenly one night and decided to go to Hawaii.  Came back and on his way home on the bus, which was too slow; got off, walked into some ho-dunk car dealership and bought a car.

Of course the car was a lemon, so he worked on it with his friend, who was mechanically inclined...unlike my brother.  One day, while following the manual to rebuild the engine, the wind blew the page and he ended up with a cardboard box full of extra parts....His friend saved him and fixed it up fine...

He drove it until he was tired of feeding it oil and it breaking down.  One night he stopped at a gas station and when he got back in the car, it wouldn't start.  So he left it and hitch hiked home.  The gas station called the next day to tell him how much it would cost to fix it.  Without regret, he told them to just keep it...

He liked to golf, much better than he liked keeping a job, so he decided to be a professional golf caddy. We gave him a big family send off, complete with a singing telegram, at some fancy restaurant in Orange County...I don't remember which one right now...but his dimples were deep and happy. He smiled a lot that night...

So off he went to figure out how to be a caddy...  First he worked on the men's tour, which didn't last long...and then for the Ladie's Tour, where he eventually met his wife.  He was her caddy.  She ended up giving up golf, he became a born again Christian, they married, settling in Ohio and had three sons and a daughter.  All the boys are grown up now, their daughter will graduate next year..

He has slowed down to a light, napping breeze these days...he is happy and content living in a 100 year old house with his wife, daughter, three dogs and a couple cats.

I love you my brother...we are all so glad you are well....

Four Truths and a Lie...

I want to thank Donna at Donna's Book Pub for sharing the following Memetastic Award with me:

This is going to be a challenge, because I am a real lousy liar...

I must tell four truths about myself and then one lie.  See if you can guess which one is the fib...

*** I have worked on a production line making radios, as a dental assistant and office manager, as a food server, cocktail waitress, medical assistant and office manager, nanny, babysitter, receptionist for a law office, executive secretary for a bankruptcy law firm, a commercial artist for a radio station, a go go dancer, a sales person in a hosiery department for May Co,  a medical transcriber, home maker, a liaison for cardiac rehab and physical therapy patients, did clerical work for the Lung Association, clerical work for a city government, an intake clerk for a federal bankruptcy court.  I also had my own calligraphy business, submitted several children's stories for publication (but was never published),   I worked as a hospice volunteer, volunteered as a candy striper at a hospital, an usher for a theatre in the round, volunteer fundraiser for schools, volunteer Girl Scout leader and assistant leader, volunteer computer monitor, volunteer blog teacher, mail clerk within a federal court, telephone operator within a federal court, court recorder within a federal court, calendar clerk for a federal court, operated various office machines, copy, recording, transcribing, fax and scanning machines.  Archived, purged, organized, various filing systems in medical, dental, and governmental settings.

*** I have met or seen in person, Connie Stevens when she was on Hawaiian Eye, Gary Clark (actor dating Connie Stevens), Robert Goulet, Martin Sheen, John Wayne, Angela Lansbury, Emilio Estevez, Steve Lawrence, Edie Gorme, Jayne Mansfield, Carol Lawrence, Dr. Laura Schlessinger, Neil Diamond, Elvis Presley, Ann Margaret, Tony Curtis, Ed Nelson (Dr. Rossi on Peyton Place), received a letter from Cloris Leachman, Steve Tyrell, Barry Manilow, Terry Fator, original Moody Blues, The Beatles, Queen (without Freddy Mercury), Dennis DeYoung (lead singer for STYX, James Belushi, Red Fox, Don Rickles, Roy Rodgers, Dale Evans, Trigger, Buttermilk, Hopalong Cassidy and his horse Topper, Robert Conrad, Lee Majors, Farrah Fawcett, Sony Bono and his wife Suzie,  and Clint Eastwood.

***I rode a beautiful Palomino horse, with white mane and tail, bareback, along the beach in Mexico.

*** On several occasions, I knew what it felt like to be a victim of a crime.

*** I was part of a first response to someone in an emergency situation.  I held him in my arms and felt his blood stop pumping when he died.

I would like to share this Award with anyone who reads my blog and strives to be the best you can be...

Thank you again Donna, I really appreciate your thoughtfulness...

Dancing With Dad...

*** artwork by Sue Whittick at Artist's Progress***

I awoke today with the most wonderful memory...me as a barefoot little girl, standing on Dad's feet and dancing... He would make the music himself by humming or singing to me.  He made me feel so safe and loved...  I have a huge smile on my face and will wear it for the rest of the day...

I called the nursing home and was able to reach Dad.  I caught him just after breakfast and before his shower...he sounded good.  I greeted him with my signature,

"Hello my Papa-doots!!"  And he responded...

"Ahhhhhhh, my Donna Dee..."

I am over flowing with joy each time he remembers who I am without me telling him...especially since it is usually over the phone.

My husband and I will travel back to California for Thanksgiving and we both look forward to spending some time with him....

The last time Dad and I danced together was at my nephew's wedding...

Dad boogied with Mom...

He swooned the Bride..

And he rocked out with me...

I love you Papa doots!!

Dad, The Pontificating Absent Minded Professor...

Mom called me today while I was filling out paperwork for my new Dentist. I am still on the hunt for a "good one" and am getting yet another estimate for two implants to replace the two tooth hole, from my former Dentist who broke off my tooth at the gum line, when removing my bridge.  He is the one who gave me the painful injections and put a knee on my chest to pull my tooth!

Anyway, Mom wanted to know if I wanted to talk with Dad.  Unfortunately, the staff was waiting for me to finish the paperwork, so I could not.  Mom had a good visit with Dad. She planned to go earlier this morning, but the window guy (she is replacing some windows in the house to quiet street noise and lower the utility bills) kept her longer than she planned.

Dad had just finished lunch, so they went to his room and thankfully, neither of his room mates were there. He sat in his wheelchair and she sat on his bed. It was drizzling outside and there were student nurses all over the place, including their "special nook" where Mom and Dad usually go to visit.

She told him some church news which she felt he understood, and then she asked him what kind of cake he wanted for his birthday party on November 5th. Surprisingly, he told her he wasn't too fond of cake, so she suggested an ice cream cake.  Dad's face lit up on that suggestion!  He told her to get a big one so all the guests could enjoy it. She promised she would.

The nursing home will give a big party during the day for all the birthdays in November, that way, all the patients will think it is a birthday party for them individually... I know Dad will.  Later, at 7pm, we will all converge into one of the meeting rooms and celebrate Dad's 90th birthday.

Dad told her he writes a daily column for the staff there. He reviews the movies and reports which ones to see. He also helps them place their bets at the race track.  (Just gotta' love him...)

He told Mom he wanted to open a bank account so he'd have money to entertain with.  She told him she already had one account with his and her names on it and one with just her name. He smiled and seemed content.

Dad suddenly launched into a lecture about how people suck.  Mom thought he meant it in a negative way, but he went into a long explanation about how well babies do when they suck (Dad was pontificating, so his voice was quite LOUD!)  He determined adults should suck mother's milk as well.  Mom just agreed with him and told him how interesting that was.  Mom had barely finished her sentence, and Dad was off on another topic. His mind must be jumping all the time.

Dad is in love with another young gal there with beautiful brown eyes.

She told Dad about having the house treated for termites.  He was very proud of her for taking care of things around the house. So she told him she was considering replacing the windows and he thought it was a wise move. When Dad was home, she fought with him "tooth and nail" about getting things done around the house.  He was so paranoid, he was certain the workers would steal from them.  I know it relieves so much of her stress getting the house in order after waiting for so long.

Mom reminded Dad it was his sister's 85th birthday today, as well as his niece's birthday.  Mom tried to call her so Dad could speak with her, but she was out. She called again when Mom got home and they chatted for awhile.  His sister had been out to dinner with her daughter's family.

Dad told Mom how well she looked and asked about the rest of the family. She told him the exciting news about my second to the youngest brother graduating next month.  Dad smiled and said he was so proud of him. She told him my youngest brother was busy as were the rest of the family. Dad told Mom he had talked with me the other day.

He seemed tired and closed his eyes, so she suggested it might be  nap time. Dad said he was ready to take a snooze...

Listening to Mom tell us about Dad acting like a pontificating Professor, it brought back memories of one Halloween.  Mom dressed as a Flapper and had Dad dress as the Absent Minded Professor.  He wore a white shirt, tie, dinner jacket, boxer underwear, shoes, socks and sock garters....NO LONG PANTS! 
They took first prize.

How My Father Prevented My Life Of Crime...

When I was about sixteen, five of my girlfriends and I went shopping at White Front (which was a discount chain store, similar to K-Mart or Wal Mart of today) to buy some last minute accessories, as we were planning on going to a dance at the local Teen Canteen...

The girls I was with, were girlfriends my Mother did not approve of, and did not like me associating with them.  I was going to tell Mom I was spending the night with one of them, and then we would tell her Mom we had permission, and my girlfriend and I would be driven to the dance by her older sister and her girlfriend.

Dad rarely said anything derogatory about my friends, but for the most part, would back up Mom's decisions, as she was pretty much the disciplinarian.

I wanted to buy a head band, but if I did, I would not have enough money to pay my way in to the dance.  I asked my girlfriend if she had any extra money she could lend me.  Another of my friends over heard our conversation, and suggested we each steal some thing.  She told us she does it all the time, and gave us tips on how to do it.

I had never stolen anything, except a piece of hard candy from a grocery store bin.  When my Dad discovered I had taken the candy, he marched me back to the store and made me confess to the store manager.  The candy was only a penny, but Dad insisted on paying it, despite the manager telling him it was all right.  Dad made me pay him back out of my piggy bank.

I was very nervous, and have never been a good liar.  I had become Catholic at age 7, so guilt and I were well acquainted...

Everyone had selected what they were going to take and broke into pairs.  I was certain I had red neon letters flashing on and off on my forehead....letters that spelled, "This girl is stealing a headband".  I was so afraid, nervous, and my gut was SCREAMING at me to put my hair in a pony tail and forget the head band...

Everyone had left the store, and were waiting for me in the parking lot.  I decided to ignore my gut, because that head band would look so "bitchen" with my flip hair do...much better than a pony tail, which would make me look like Dumbo, with my big ears sticking out...

As I passed the front doors, feeling safe, I began to run toward my girlfriends who were already in the car.  I could see two of them kneeling on the back seat staring at me.  I began to feel nervous like they might leave me.  Just then, I felt a strong hand grab my arm and before I could turn around, I saw my girlfriends drive off in the car.

My heart was pounding.  I knew I had been caught.  The store detective looked down at me and asked to look in my purse.  I opened it up and knew it had to have been the neon sign on my forehead...

He took the head band and ushered me into a back room of the store.  He asked for my parent's phone number.  There was a woman and another man also in the room, sitting at a table. He called and I heard him say my Dad's name. He spoke in a hushed voice.  The detective hung up the phone and turned to tell me, "Your Father is on his way".

When Dad arrived, his face tense and pale, wearing sweat pants with a soiled tee shirt, something he would NEVER do normally.  He would dress up just to go to the grocery store.  I immediately started crying.  I will never forget the look on Dad's face.  He asked for the detective and then rushed toward the detective and thrust out his hand.  Dad pumped his hand in profuse gratitude, thanking him for not calling the police.

Dad assured the detective, I would be given appropriate punishment.  I felt like dirt under a doormat.  Dad lead me out of the room, not saying a word.  When we reached the parking lot, I noticed all the seats from the VW had been removed except for the driver's seat.  Dad had literally been in the midst of cleaning out the car. 

I climbed inside and sat on the floor of the car. Dad would not even look at me.  We drove the short distance back home, but it felt like the drive was much longer than it was in reality.  Dad pulled in the driveway, the car seats, canister vacuum, rags, and a bucket were all sitting in the driveway.  I followed him into the house and my mother stood in the kitchen doorway with her hands on her hips. She looked very angry.

I followed Dad into their bedroom, and he closed the bedroom door.  I sat on their bed and Dad stood at the door for a few minutes, his back to me.  I sniffed and apologized, promising I would NEVER do it again...Dad turned and looked at me.  I could not look at him, and looked down at my tear stained Capri's.

"Donna, I am very disappointed in you!" was all Dad had to say.  I would have rather have him beat me with a chair leg.  I could not feel lower or more rotten if he had picked me up on a street corner soliciting...I sobbed hysterically.

I don't remember how long I was restricted to my yard, or what punishment I received, obviously I did not go to the dance... All I remember is how much I had disappointed my Father, and it had a huge impact on me.  That day, I knew I would never do anything to make my Father feel that way ever again.  I knew a life of crime was NOT for me.

Memory Flashes From My Father's Voice...

I called the nursing home this morning, still trying to talk with Dad...I called a little before 9am.  I was asked to call back in fifteen minutes as he was having his shower...

I called back in a half hour and they told me he was not in his room, so they tried to dining room, then tried to have me call again.  I insisted they please find him as I have been trying for several days.  After a short wait, I could hear a nurse telling Dad, his daughter was on the phone...

Hearing his voice say my name, was a mixture of delight and what felt like a 'pinched heart'.  Some times, hearing his voice, sets in motion a whirling, rapid, nano second flashes of memories...him dressed in a suit and tie when he came to my apartment when I lived at the beach, to take me to dinner.  Riding his shoulders as we rode a ferry boat in Bremerton, Washington.  I must have been six or seven, but I still remember the breeze on my face and the twinkling lights in the darkness...Dad in his overalls, working and puttering in the yard. The sound of his voice when he asked if he could make me a cup of tea, and how it always tasted like the best cup of tea...

When I was pouting for having to do dishes as a stubborn pre-teen, he would lift up my pony tail, and kiss the back of my neck.  I would giggle and get goose pimples... his never ending patience and long, detailed explanations to any question I asked.  His faith in God and seeing him kneeing in morning prayer, his hands clasped, thumbs over lapped, fingers pointing to the heavens, just like a child.  If any of us were hungry, he would go to any lengths to satisfy your taste buds and act as if we were doing him the favor...

I immediately tell him how much I love and miss him, and his voice softens and tells me how much I mean to him too.  He laughs and smiles when I make kissing noises and tell him I am stuffing the phone with kisses and hugs... His voice sounds hopeful and happy when I tell him of my visit in a few weeks...

I ask, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear how good he feels, after his shower.  Dad always started and ended his day, with a shower.  I ask how he is.  He tells me he did not sleep too well.  He was up all night, watching out for himself... 

I wonder often if he will ever feel as safe and secure there, in the nursing home, as he did in his home. Personally, no matter how kind and caring they are at the nursing home, I cannot imagine it myself. I think of his terminology and wonder if he is standing guard like he did in the Marine Corp over 67 years years ago...

We chat about the weather there and here, about Doctor-Doctor, and how they take care of him.

I told him he must be exhausted, and ask if he had his breakfast already.  He told me he did, but he also mentioned he was not so hungry as he ate so much yesterday...we both laughed together, because he does love to eat...

I told him again how much I loved him and that my husband sends his love too.  Dad asked how he was and told him he was working hard, but he is fine.  Dad was glad to hear it.

Knowing he needed some shut eye, I asked if he wanted to take a little nap before lunch, and the relief in his voice told me he was really tired.  I wished him the sweetest of dreams and told him I would see him soon...

I miss you Dad and love you so very much...

Remember Those Good Ol' Days?

Yesterday, my daughter in law, her hubby, my hubby and I all went to see Adam Sandler's GROWN UPS.
What a fun, feel good movie this was.  The story is about some childhood friends whose lives were touched by their basketball coach. 

The coach dies and they all gather again to pay their respects. They all return to the coach's weekend retreat at a lake to scatter his ashes.  I don't want to give it away, but it was a reminder to all and showing how much fun there is without technology.

It reminded me of my childhood and the fun our family had, just sitting around together.  We could entertain one another just with our antics and interactions with one another.  Some of my hardest laughter came from hanging out with my family, usually around the dinner table or afterwards trying to watch the television.

During the day, we were rarely inside.  We got out of the house as soon as possible to avoid doing chores. We spent the day playing outside or at our friend's homes.  We roamed near and far to our home, often without our parent's knowledge.  Certainly many the places we went could have had drastically different results in a different time and place, but we were blessed...

Our imagination was our best toy.  There was never a limit to what we could do or where we could go.
We just had to be home by the time the street lights were on.  We didn't dare be late for dinner, or we would starve.  I have four brothers, so trust me, if my sister or I were late, there were no apologies for eating our dinner.

Our humor was always the entertainment.  Everything generated from it.  Nothing was sacred.  It it got a laugh, it was fair game.  We learned to not take anything too seriously and to laugh at ourselves. Oh, the precious memories we shared...

How about you?  Do you remember those good ol' days?

Childhood Memories of Bremerton, Washington...

I was thinking today about my childhood.  So many vivid memories of when we lived in Bremerton, Washington on Wright Ave.  We lived there for 5 years and moved back to California when I was 10. Our house was a Duplex.  We had underground trash cans, where the trash can was sunk into the ground, to the side of the front sidewalk by the front porch of our home.  Dad would step on a lever thing and the lids would fly open and then he dropped the trash into the can.

During the Summer,we used haul the empty can out of the hole, fill it with water and use it to cool off.  Maybe that is why my parents finally bought us one of those rubber blow up kind of wading pools...but we sure had fun playing in it. Our imagination was our best toy.  When we went down that hole we pretended we were in a submarine and it was flooding and we'd have to jump in and then climb out so somebody else could take a turn.

Whenever Easter rolled around, Mom would always line us up on the front porch and take our pictures before church.  My brother had to have a bow tie (went better with his buzz cut) and my sister and I had to have our hair "spring loaded" from having Mom make us sleep in Bobby Pin curls (yeowwww, those things hurt to sleep on, despite the scarf she covered the pins with and tied off at our forehead.  Kind of like an upside down diaper.)  We had to dress up for special occasions.  My sister and I had to wear a dress, hat (which looked like a Frisby), gloves and a purse.  I HATED IT.  I never felt comfortable in a dress unless it had pockets in it.  I was always in blue jeans.

There were no fences in those days, and the woods were right in our backyard.  The street below us, I think was Halverson and it was down the hill, below the woods.  When I caught the school bus, Mom could sit in our kitchen and watch me walk out through our back yard, go through the woods, come out in the neighborhood below us, and then down to the street where the bus stop was...

Mom used to tell me, I would fiddle-fart around on my way down to the bus and miss it.  I would then happily skip back home and Mom, having seen me miss the bus, would be really PISSED!  I think she did not walk me down, because she had my little brother and sister to wrangle if she did. Dad drove our only car to the Navy Ship Yards, where he worked.  He was also a Mailman for a short time.

I remember there was a cement wall on Halverson, about three feet tall, with various stair steps leading up to the front yards, breaking up the wall. I used to go play on the wall with my girlfriend.  One of our favorite games was to jump down from the wall, to the ground below and pretend we were under the ocean.  We'd see how long we could hold our breath. Who ever built that wall, was quirky, because there were marbles and shells stuck in it.  I loved exploring that wall and pretending I was finding a sunken treasure.

We used to play the board games,  Candyland and Chutes and Ladders. We would sit on the porch, drink Kool-Aid, eating bread, butter and sugar open face sandwiches, watching some blond haired girl touch her nose with her tongue...

In the summer, we would use old cardboard boxes, break them down and use them as sleds to slide down the grassy hills.  When it snowed, we shared sleds.  Even the grown ups would sled and ski in the backyards, which was simple enough because no one had fences.  They could sled or ski from the top of Wright Avenue, around the woods and down to the neighborhood on Halverson Street.

We had tool sheds for the mowers, shovels etc behind the Duplexes.  One time I ran away and hid in someone's shed.  Dad went out looking for me and found me because I was sobbing so loud...

Dad used to take me for walks in the woods and show me what kind of berries I could eat, and which ones I couldn't.  He even showed me some roots to eat, that tasted kind of like carrots but were white.  My friends and I used to build "forts" in the woods.  We'd dig a hole, then put sticks over the top and cover with ferns.

I remember when Dad took us camping with another family to Mt. Olympic National Park.  We weren't expecting it to be so cold, so Mom put extra underwear on our heads, for hats and socks on our hands to keep us warm.  We sat and laughed our heads off at one another.  Dad told us scary stories by the fire.

We all used to travel on the steel electric ferries across Puget Sound.  Dad would drive the car onto the ferry, then we would hold onto Mom or Dad with one hand and plug our nose with the other, because the gas fumes stank.  Mom and I were discussing the ferries, and I ask if she remembered the names of any of the ferries.  She told me we rode on Klickitat the most. (All six ferries were built in San Francisco in 1927 and named after areas in Northern California.  In 1951 they were bought to service in Washington and renamed with American Indian names.) I Googled it, and found a picture of one of it.

We used to bring those little plastic Cowboys, Indians and horse figures to play with on the ferry.  I loved to go with Dad to the top of the ferry, where it was nippy and cold. We would huddle against the wind, and it made my nose run.  I can still remember looking up at my Dad and liking the expression on his face as he looked out over the water...

I used to get so frightened when Dad would drive over the Puget Sound Bridge to Seattle.  I could look at the window, way down to the whirlpools below and think we would be swallowed forever if we ever fell in.

Dad used to take us on the beach under the Manette bridge to dig for a real ugly clam called goeduck ("gooey-ducks").  We had to dig like a dog, legs spread apart, bent over, and digging like mad with our hands to catch them.  They have this long hose like thing on them that holds a lot of water, and unfortunately, the clam is head down, while it's tail-hose thing is closest to the surface...One cloudy day, Mom, Dad and I were all digging, and one spit up at me, making me look like I wet my pants.  

Dad LOVES clams, oysters, sardines and Mom would make him eat it outside
because it grossed us out and we hated the stink from those things!! He used to have
some saying he used to always tell  us, "Don't eat oysters or clams in a month that does not have an "R" in it", so basically, not in the summer.  So that particular, cold, day, my wet pants made me a lot more than just uncomfortable!  I was freezing!!

Thinking about Dad so much lately, I am so Blessed that all these memories are still
so vivid in my mind.  It is keeps my Dad closer to me...

How Blessed we all are, to have the memories we do.  They are priceless, especially now.  Each of us, when we get together, find ourselves reminiscing and sharing our stories with Dad...

I wish I could have connected with you today Dad... I'll just have to try again
tomorrow...

Happy memories of Dad and I...

My phone call today with Dad was very frustrating.  He rambled on and on about Doctor-Doctor (his favorite Aide) and how much he loves her. Sounded like he had watched TV and no doubt had seen the coverage of Haiti, and that influenced what he tried to tell me.  His conversation made no sense and he kept putting the phone too far from his mouth so I could not hear him.

The best part of the conversation was him telling me how good it was to hear my voice...

I am not going to allow our conversation to bring me down.  Instead, I found an Alzheimer's ribbon and a baby picture of Dad, Mom and I when I was a baby and put it on my blog. Instead, I will share some happy memories of Dad and I.

I was surfing the net today and saw a picture of an adult's bare feet and a child's bare feet on top of the adult's feet.  It made me remember when Dad used to take off his shoes and in his stocking feet, invite me, in my stocking feet, to stand on his feet and then he would dance with me around the room. He had different songs he would sing or hum to go with our dance. This activity erupted high pitch giggles from me as he held my hands and we danced around the living room...

He used to Poka dance with me too.  I can't remember the name of the song, but it was on one of Mom's records.  It was a real toe tapper and he would hold my hands and we would basically side step and skip all around the livingroom.  Dad would be huffing, puffing, laughing, and I would have the high pitched giggles and screams of delight.

As a family, we all watched Cheyene with Clint Walker as Cheyene Bodie.  At the beginning of every episode, it would say..."A wanderer roams the wild west"...and then he would lope in on his horse into the town.  I would imitate Cheyene riding in on his horse.  I could do it with comic perfection and it made my Dad roar with laughter!

Dad loved Westerns, especially anything with John Wayne. For years he had a life size cardboard cut out of him, that Dad kept in various corners of the house.  I think one of my brothers gave it to him...

I also used to sing the theme song to Paladin to entertain Dad. Richard Boone's portrayal was another of his favorites.    I would sing, imitating the singer's voice:

                           "Have gun will travel 

                                 reads the card of a man,

                               A knight without armor,

                    in a savage land.

His fast gun for hire

heads the calling wind,

A soldier of fortune

is the man called Paladin.

Paladin, Paladin,

Where do you roam?

Paladin, Paladin,

Far, far from home..."

These are the memories I will hold on to today...