Father's Day, 1997.

My father died in 1963. I don't think that Hallmark had made up Father's Day yet.

I was a junior in high school, and we (my mother and I) had been totally isolated from the family in Oklahoma since 1959. Nobody knew that we were in Topeka, but the red cross was promped to find us when he was burned. They found me by matching my date of birth with the school records... they went over records of every high school in Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri and Nebraska. Quite a feat in those pre-computer days.

My recollection of this time is very hazy. I don't remember if it was in the spring or fall, or even how we were actually notified. We found out two days after the accident, and I think that he died on the third day. I don't think that I had a car at the time, because mom and I went back to Enid on a train.

My father was... an interesting man. To the best of my knowledge, we were a pretty cohesive family unit until my sister was killed in 1955. My sister Linda was two years younger than me, and my brother Dan (Jon) is four years older. Dad started drinking heavily after Linda was killed, and was abusive with my mother, but not to me; he was only abusive when he was drinking. And he drank as often and as much as he could. He pretty well estranged himself from the extended family also. He was institutionalized at one time (or maybe several times) for schitzophrenia, and had electroshock treatments for this probably mis-diagnosed condition.

I did not get to know my father very well. He lived with us for a while in Albuquerque, and he and I went on a week-long fishing trip between Taos and Sante Fe that I will never forget. The scenery was beautiful, and I was with my dad! Just the two of us, no distractions from my mother or brother. He stayed sober for most of that trip, and it was wonderful. Never again would we be that close.

Shortly after this, he again became more physically abusive with Mom, and she and I got on a bus and moved back to Enid, Oklahoma. We stayed with my grandmother Mable and uncle Earl for a while, then moved into an apartment.

By this time, we were both fearful of my father. He came once to visit and I was with him one afternoon, then he left again; I never knew what transpired between him and mom, but the next week we were on a train heading north (supposedly) to Wichita.

I became concerned when we didn't get off in Wichita, and my mother told me that we were going to Topeka, instead, where my father would never find us. Everyone thought we were going to Wichita... so we had no contact with anyone in the family, except with phone calls about once a year to get any news from my grandma Mable.

I missed knowing my father. I did inherit his genetic legacy, the alcoholism. I fought it and I have won (so far) but I had not had the tragedy in my life that he had in his. I don't know what kind of a person I would be had I lost a child. I cannot judge him, either then or now. I can only say that I loved him, and that I know that he loved me. I wish that our time together could have lasted longer and been better.