Dad

Growing up

I really do not know much about my dad's life, he never really said much about it. I do know he was born in Springfield, Missouri, where my grandparents lived. I also know he left Springfield before the war (the second one) and headed west. He stopped in several places along the way, something we figured out by looking at his wallet when he died, and found driver's licenses from several places. Eventually, he ended up in California, where he was working in a truck factory when the war started. What I did not know until late in life was that he got married while in California, but that marriage only lasted about a year. When Pearl Harbor happened, he, like many others, headed to D.C. where jobs were available everywhere as the U.S. ramped up for our war effort.

My mom, growing up in North Dakota, did exactly the same thing, and ended up working in the War Department. She lived just to the east of the Capitol building in a small house that is still there today.

A few years later, my aunt joined her in D.C. and the two underwent a transformation that was pretty common. Mom had been a fairly plain-looking farm girl with Norwegian roots, but when she got to D.C., she went through a "makeover" that turned her into a glamor girl! I have two pictures that show the difference that made!

My mom is on the right, my aunt on the left. That is my other grandfather, Oscar Larson, in the middle. This was taken before he figured out it was warmer south of North Dakota, and moved to Missouri. What is amazing is that he settled about 30 miles from where my other grandparents lived. He ended up in Aurora Missouri, just west of Springfield! As far as I know, the two sets of grandparents never met, but I did take my dad's mother to meet my mother's dad one time while I lived with her in St. Louis. It was quite a trip!

Here is mom, after the Makeover. These glamor shots were all the rage during the war:

My dad was a Clark Gable kind of guy, and he got hooked on this girl, so eventually they got married and moved to Roslynn, just across the Potomac River:

All too soon I suspect, I was born! I am a classic "baby boomer", born during the excitement of the end of the war. I spent the first couple of years of my life living in an apartment in Roslyn.

Does that look like a proud new father?

That building in the background is 1510 Key Blvd, which is still there today, in Roslynn.

Grandpa Carl

My Grandfather was still living in Springfield, but he and my Grandmother had split, and she moved to St. Louis, eventually getting married to Willie Schweitzer.

I have a vague memory of my grandfather coming to D.C. to see his new grand-kid. All I can remember was looking up from my bed at a tall older man, and that was the only time I ever saw him. I have a letter he sent to his son, congratulating him on his new son. The letter indicated that he sent my dad $15 to buy some whiskey to celebrate, which tells a tale. Somewhere in my pile of pictures (or in one of my sister's collections), we have a picture of my grandfather sitting in front of a big army tent along a river in Arkansas, while they were on a fishing trip. The part of that picture that struck me was the huge pile of wooden cases of Budweiser beer they took along. The stockpile of beer was taller than the tent! The fish had a very good chance of surviving that trip, but my grandfather, and whoever else was on that trip did not!

What that told me was that my dad had grown up in a family where heavy drinking was a normal part of life, and, unfortunately, he inherited that!

Dad's Jobs

When I was born, my dad was working as a bookkeeper, but I do not know where, exactly.

He was pretty proud of his son (me), and bought me a cool suit so I could look all grown up!

After a few years living in Roslynn, my family moved to Falls Church, and he got a job as a bookkeeper at the local Chrysler Auto dealership there. He even bought one of them, a 49 Dodge as I recall. MY older sister, Connie as she now calls herself, not Carlene, which they stuck her with, was born there. (She was named after dad's father, Carl!)

Eventually, we moved to Dunn Loring, a small community about 15 miles outside of D.C., into our first house. Mon still worked at the Pentagon, but dad changed jobs and was working at National Memorial Park, a cemetery where he and mom now lay at rest (he got a deal on the plots!). While he had this job, my mom took some time off, had my younger sister, Karen, and stayed home to raise us kids!

Across the street from his work, there was a small bar, Tribles, where dad was a regular. He became friends with a kid named Jimmy Dean. Jimmy was trying to start up a career in country music, and had a nice group of musicians and singers working with him in the bar. Jimmy even brought his entire band to our house one evening for dinner. Eventually Jimmy got picked up by the local radio/TV station, and sort of made it big!

Had your morning breakfast sandwich today?

Lost Career

Dad lost this job, and I suspect drinking had something to do with that. He never really had a real job after that. We moved back to Fall Church when I entered the fourth grade. My mom continued to work at the Pentagon, and my dad spent his time reading western novels at home, or walking to the local bar. He lost his driver's license, and his 1954 Chevrolet sat out front of our apartment, not moving for years while I grew up. I was supposed to get that car when I got old enough to drive, but the city towed it away before that. (I still have the key though, for all the good that is!)

Dad the Cook

What he did do to support our family life was cook. He was very good in the kitchen, so good my mom seldom needed to cook anything. We joked after he died that mom had to learn how to cook all over again.

Dad used his skills to get a part time job as a cook and bar-tender at his local bar. That is where I spent my summer before leaving for college, working as a burger flipper and dish washer! I hated it, but did earn some much needed cash to help out with expenses for my first term at Virginia Tech!

Off to College

When it was time for me to head to college, dad took me downtown to the bus station. We had breakfast in the diner there, and he walked me up to the bus. I don't remember much about what he said, but I remember vividly seeing him standing on the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. He was beaming with pride! His only son had made it all the way to college. He had put himself through night school to earn his accounting credentials, but neither of my parents went to college.

I kept that image in my head all the way to Blacksburg, and my new adventure!

Visits back Home

After I left for school, I was not home much. I went into the cooperative Engineering program that had me work one term, then go to school the next, for several years. I lived in St. Louis with my grandmother and worked at McDonnell Aircraft there. Usually, I stopped by home on my way to St. Louis and saw the family, but that was about all.

I did make it home for Christmas, though, and was able to spend some time then.

First Drink

When I turned 21, dad made a big deal of taking me to his bar and buying me my first legal drink. It was a Budwiser, his favorite!

I remember our walk to the bar. He seemed much shorter than I remembered, and his walk was pretty slow. He was only 51, but he seemed much older. I later learned that he was pretty much living on beer, and not eating much. It was taking it's toll!

We had our drink, and enjoyed time remembering the past. I am sure he enjoyed seeing his now grown up son, and hearing how well he was doing in school.

Losing Dad

Even though we never had that great a relationship, I was not prepared for the phone call I got while studying for final exams during my Junior year at Tech. Dad was in the hospital, something I knew was going to happen since he had talked about that during my last visit home. He had survived the surgery, but was a physical wreck, and had developed an infection he was not able to fight off. They did not think he:w was going to make it.

I had to scramble to find a way home, but managed to find a bus that got me there. I walked into his room, and he was barely able to speak. I was able to talk to him, I told him I had sent flowers to mom for Mother's Day, and he was pleased to hear that! Then we told him we would see him later and left for the day. The next day when we went to see him, he was unconscious, but seemed to be sleeping. The doctors did not give us much hope.

That evening, while we were sitting at home, I took the call we were dreading. I listened, then handed the phone to my mom, and we knew it was over. Dad had died at 52.

A Good Man

His life was full of ups and downs, but he was a good man, and I am proud to be his son. His drinking was something that I suspect kept him going, but his life was hard. He tried to be a success as an accountant, but his drinking kept getting in the way. He would get a job, then lose it. He had an amazing array of friends, many of whom would stop by our home to chat. It was a constant stream of interesting characters!

Dad loved all of his kids, and his lovely wife. He never waivered in that. But he was so torn by his inability to help the family, that I know he contemplated ending his life, to step out of the way. That fact was a shock to me, and gave me a new perspective on his life and struggles.

We all wish for the best in our lives, and in our families, but sometimes that just does not happen. Dad helped raise a nice bunch of kids. My two sisters and I are not perfect by any means, but we are solid citizens of the human race, and we each have our parents to thank for the start they gave us.

Happy Birthday Dad! I hope you are looking down, and still proud of what you did accomplish, and not dwelling on what you did not!

Proud Son of Howard William Black!