My old man was a depression kid, oldest of 6 boys. Dropped out of school in Colorado to come out to Washington and work in the Kaiser shipyards with his father. He was a Seabee in the Pacific Theater in WWII, then a career as advertising manager for the local newspaper.
He would eat some fucked up ****. His favorite meal was a slice of white bread spread with healthy amounts of butter and peanut butter and smothered in navy beans, then to make it particularly disgusting, ketchup and horseradish on top. He would eat at least 3 of those at a meal.
He smoked 3 packs a day and died of an aortic aneurism in 1972 at age 47 on my 1st day of junior high school when I was 12. I never knew him as an adult and am a lesser man because of it. I have his diaries (as an aspiring journalist) from his formative years, and I can say his thought process at that age was well beyond mine. He was a Toastmaster, an Indian Guide Chief and member of other clubs, was on the board of directors for our church as well as other boards, and was into self-improvement throughout his life. I like girls (well, one now), fast cars and partying.
Mom was a saint for raising us 2 teenage boys to the men we are today! RIP Mom and Dad.
