It is never long enough...

The holiday season that is! I realize after my last blog title this might be a strange follow-up! Yes, I did get my dad's sense of humor.

It is December 21st, and all I can think about is that the season has gone too fast. For me, everything about the lead-up to Christmas is physically (literally) heart-warming.

The pictures of me at my first Christmas (I was not even six months old) are with my father dressing me in a cute little red Christmas dress. I think from that moment on, I was hooked. To Paul, Christmas was everything. He best expressed his love through presents, and so the holiday fit him perfectly. It was the one time of year where he was home a lot and where most of my Paul memories come from. My poor mother and husband have felt the pressure to continue the traditions that Paul started, the complete and utter spoiling of a child (me) at Christmas.

One Christmas I circled a bunch of items in a Toys R Us Catalog ... one of which was a table-top pinball machine. When I showed Paul my request, he scoffed at me saying "do you know how much that costs?" But then, on Christmas Eve the doorbell rang with my Christmas Eve present (I always got to open one toy on Christmas Eve)....it was a truck full of arcade games. Not one but two full sized pinball machines, a full size PacMan and a jukebox. Those were just my Christmas Eve presents....in the morning I awoke to what seemed like thousands of boxes. I had asked for the "Samantha" doll but I got her and every single one of her accessories, and every itty bitty thing was wrapped up in its own little box. In fact, I took so long opening the presents under the "kid" tree that my parents moved into the living room to begin opening their presents.

Beyond the presents I have so many other wonderful memories of Christmas....

My parents would let me have my own "mini-tree" in my room that I could decorate however I wanted (I actually think this was so I did not ruin my mom's carefully decorated tree - but whatever!)

One holiday at the very formal dinner table with the Nave family I took a bite of a cherry tomato and sprayed juice all over my father's white dress shirt (he was NOT happy).

Watching my brother's face when he got his "big" present a four wheeler!

Getting sea-monkeys from my long lost cousin Laurie (the child of the estranged Aunt).

Moving to the Blackhawk house and hiring professional decorators to deck the ENTIRE house out, including making a life size Santa doll (which now resides in my living room at Christmas)

Shopping at Frellan's for automated Christmas figurines (three of which I have in my house now).

And my favorite....

Watching my dad (drunk) sit at the baby grand piano in our Blackhawk house, playing and singing (very badly) Christmas songs with my grandparents watching. That is actually the one moment I wish I could re-create for my husband....the moment he would have fallen in love with Christmas like I have.

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season, and if you get a chance, pour yourself a glass of whiskey on the rocks and toast Paul on his favorite day.

How big are my balls?

Sorry it has been so long since my last post. Within a couple of weeks I met with my dad's first and third wife, and his best childhood friend. It was this barrage of information that I still am not really sure what to do with. Pages upon pages of scribbled notes...memories and stories....facts? Not so sure. Things seemed to get really complicated, with so much information (some of which is totally contradictory) and then this overwhelming feeling of "what next?"

I still do not know the answer to that question. It seems that there is a general push for me to move in one direction....which makes me ask myself "do I have the balls?"

What direction is that? Well, most seem to think that the next logical step would be to contact my father's closest living biological relative - My Aunt. Why does this require balls you may ask...well I have not seen my Aunt since my eighth grade graduation party. There are various reasons for this, none of which I am planning on disclosing at this time because I might just develop the internal strength and resolution (i.e. balls) to contact her. It would be easy she apparently still works at the same retail store she has for over 30 years....but do I have the balls? This might be the true testament to how much I want to know about Paul.

"Trust Me"

Here is what I have learned in the past two weeks. Paul was viewed by some (perhaps many) as a master manipulator. The phrase "trust me" seemed to emanate from his mouth often, and was interpreted by many as "bull**it." This does not shock me. He has been described as the consummate salesman by both those who loved and hated him, and to me that says it all. He would do and say anything to get what he wanted and/or needed at that particular moment in time. As I write this, I realize, I have that same ability. I often joke about how I can manipulate people or a situation to get what I want. Must be in the genes.

While Paul was a good salesman, it was not what he wanted out of life. He wanted to do something much bigger, and he did.

In the last few years of his life Paul was able to execute an incredible business deal that led to the purchase of a large piece of land in Vallejo, California. His goal was to build a master planned community, which would include housing, commercial, and recreational buildings, as well as a golf course. The project was named "Sky Valley." I can clearly remember walking the land with my parents. Sitting on the dirt looking on as Paul unrolled blue prints on the hood of his gold Mercedes Benz convertible, pointing out the future to my mom. The groundbreaking ceremony where I got to celebrate with getting my ears pierced for the special event. Listening for the first time (and last time) to my father speak in front of an entire crowd, and being totally impressed with how charismatic he was.

This project was the turning point in our lives. We went from financially struggling to what felt like instant millionaires. We bought the big house, the fancy cars, the first class tickets, the limo rides, the jewelry. It was incredibly fun and outrageous, and short-lived. It was in the midst of this that Paul died.

Last week I met with Paul's first wife and gained a different perspective of him. They were together for 6 years when they were both very young. Today I spoke briefly with his child-hood best friend. Before Ted left my house he told me one story that I would like to share. It is the story that inspired the theme of the entry tonight.

Ted owned a lumber and nursery business in the 1980s. One day my father pulled up in his Mercedes to the nursery to catch up with his old friend. They chatted business, and Ted revealed to Paul that the Nursery was in trouble and he was probably going to have to close the doors. Paul told Ted all about Sky Valley.

Having known Paul as well as he did, Ted was thinking, "Yeah right, another one of Paul's stories." Then Paul invited Ted to hop in the car for a little road trip up to the property. Ted, wanting to call him out, agreed. They arrived at the property, and Ted said he was sure Paul was "just the sales guy." But then, different workers kept approaching them and asking questions, including a question about a rather large purchase. It became clear that Paul was indeed in charge.

At the end of their adventure Paul told Ted that he was going to need a lot of plants for Sky Valley. He said he would bring his landscape architect over and they would see if they could help him get rid of some of the inventory. Sure enough Paul and the architect came by - the architect pointed at a couple of plants and said "I don't want that or that," but "we will take pretty much everything else." Paul cut Ted a check (which was good to Ted's dismay) and then Paul asked Ted to take care of the plants for a few months, the property was not ready for them yet. So Ted cared for the plants and shortly thereafter Paul died.

Months later someone from Sky Valley came, took about 1/4 of the plants they purchased and walked away.

I have always heard the same comments about my dad, many of which have been negative. But the one word that I ALWAYS think of is generous. To my knowledge he was always willing to give, even when he did not have anything left, even if he had to deceive to give it.

"The House" in Blackhawk
1988

Once, Twice, Three Times a Charm...

 Scared of commitment? Not so much, he probably was a bit co-dependent. It seems like he was either married or in a serious relationship for most of his adult life.

Paul was an expert at getting married, not necessarily staying married though. He also somehow managed to produce one child for each wife, which of course leads to a very typical "modern family."

Time for another one of my favorite Paul stories. Again, there might be some inaccuracies with my retelling of this story (like all the others) so please feel free to correct me.

Soon after my mom (wife #3) and Paul got married, they attended the wedding of two of their very close friends, Ed and Jonelle. The wedding was in Carmel, and the families were there along with many friends. Just moments before the ceremony was set to start, Ed and Jonelle were in a panic...the officiant had not arrived! I am not sure who's idea it was, but who better to lead a wedding ceremony then a man who had been married three times? Enter Paul. He quickly agreed to be the unofficial officiant and stepped up to the podium, performing what my mom has said was one of the most beautiful wedding ceremonies. In fact, Jonelle's mom, personally thanked Paul for such a moving ceremony. It was a such a realistic wedding, that Ed and Jonelle never made it official! Their one and only, illegal marriage ceremony, was performed by Paul. I am pretty sure he was never too concerned with the legality of his decisions.

So tomorrow is the next big adventure in my "mission." I am meeting with Paul's first wife and my sister for lunch. You may be thinking "that's weird" but I have actually known her since I was about 12 years old, and spent time at her house. After all, for about 7 years of my life I literally lived down the street from her, and her youngest son and I went to school together from 7th grade though college. So weird maybe, but not in my family. 

Stayed tuned for more adventures as one girl tries to uncover the mysteries of her deceased father.

Who's You Favorite Team?

Living in the Bay Area, the past few weeks have been filled with Giants fever and I have been very annoyed! I swear it feels like all day every day its Giants, Giants, Giants! If one more student talks about the team, or one more person posts something about the Giants winning on Facebook, I swear I will scream. In fact I am pretty sure I said some pretty snarky things to a few students today (oops).

However, on my way home from school I was talking to my mom and she expressed how excited she was the Giants won....seriously?? Since when did my mom follow sports? I am pretty sure once Paul died sports were banned from our TVs! Just as I was surprised about her enthusiasm, she was equally surprised by my lack of it.

Apparently Norma (Paul's mother) was a die hard baseball fan and was in love with the Giants. She watched every game, read every article, followed every players stats. My mom said that even when she was on her death bed, she would have the newspaper open to the sports page to check how her team was doing. Apparently Paul was a Giants fan as well! Who knew?

It is those little things, that I have never thought to ask about, the little details that so many people take for granted, that I am surprised by the most.

Fate or Coincidence?

Don't worry, I am not about to delve into a philosophical discussion on the journey of life - however, I must say that sometimes I am both freaked out and reassured by the way life happens.

After my last couple of posts and some of the comments and emails I have received regarding them, I had begun to question why I was on this quest. Everyone keeps telling me that they "hope I find what I am looking for"....hmm, I did not realize I was actually looking for something. Well something beyond the ability to answer some basic questions about my father. You know, his favorite color, political beliefs, most embarrassing moment - nothing really earth shattering.

But, being a woman, over analyzing is a special talent of mine, so I really started to think maybe there was something more. But after Friday, I am confident that I really am not looking for something specific - I am not some lost soul searching for the answers to life's questions.  I have pretty much known who I am, and what I want since I was a little girl, and I have never had a problem expressing this to anyone in my life (with no apologies). Some may find that statement appalling, others powerful. To be honest, I don't really care. But it is important to me that all of you understand this. Nothing you are going to tell me about Paul will destroy me, and my life and world will probably not be altered much by any revelations you share. I really would just like to be able to tell my child one day (mom - don't get excited, I am NOT pregnant!) a little bit about her grandfather.

So what was the event that made me think, yes I am doing this at the right time and with the right intention? Well, as I was walking out of the Danville Bev Mo Friday afternoon, I ran into Ingrid. One of my father's lifelong friends. We chatted for a few moments, and I promised to email her and set up a time where we can chat about Paul. Why is this significant? Well, I have lived in the Danville area off and on for my entire life. I have worked in Danville for the past 8 years. I spend a lot of time at Danville restaurants and shops. And yet, this is the first time since high school I have ever run into Ingrid - who has lived there since before my father passed. Fate or coincidence? Your call, but whatever it is, it definitely reaffirmed my quest.

Thanks for following - and keep spreading the word!

P.S. How cool would it be if we could connect to someone who was part of Paul's world sailing adventure? Maybe you can help....

THE Scrapbook....

Buried in the bottom of a box, falling apart was a scrapbook. My mom had never seen it, and I was excited that perhaps it would unlock Paul's mysterious past....

Hardly, instead it only led to more questions.

Inside was the most random gathering of items. They all must have had meaning, some Paul had held on to for decades. But without labels or a storyteller, the book only adds to the mystery.

Inside:

• mementos from his days as a cub scout
• letters written to his father from "the river" dated July 1948
• a professional portrait of himself with his sister and father
• a small poster from the movie Bambi
• his varsity track letter
• initiation certificate for Phi Zeta Fraternity at Armstrong College - dated 1960
• a huge postcard from his dad - a do not disturb sign. The message reads, "hang up quick before mom gets home" - dated 1959
• pictures of him bartending
• a picture of waterskis
• a metal "women" sign, presumably from a bathroom (has to be a good story for this)




Mementos from a Trip to Pebble Beach/Monterey


• an invitation to attend the inauguration of Richard Nixon
• newspaper clippings of California State Constitution, of California becoming a state, the South Pacific Coast Railway, a cartoon of a space ship form mars, a ship coming home from Korea, ads for Hawaii, a horse, and pictures of deer
• mementos from a trip to Carmel, including a room key to room #333 at the Del Monte Lodge on 17 Mile Drive
• anniversary, valentines, and birthday cards from his ex-wives
• a postcard of the Windjammer Restaurant in Monterey
• a concert ticket to the "Concord Summer Festival" at the Concord Pavilion

At nine years old I was sure that if I looked at all of this long enough I would get it. At 12, I moved the items into a new scrapbook, wanting to preserve the things that must have held enough significance to glue them into a scrapbook. Today, I opened the book for the first time in probably 5 years and it reaffirms why I am doing this blog. Maybe someone out there, reading this blog will know why the newspaper clippings, what the story is with the women's restroom sign, and who he stayed with at the Del Monte Lodge.

If you just pause and think for a moment of the small items you would gather and save, the things you would perhaps put in a keepsake box. The box that you would carry with you for years, adding to as your life changed. The box that would reside with you in every home you lived in. The box, those items in it, have to have meaning. Otherwise you would abandon the box with the old clothes or furniture that gets thrown out along the way.

I have keepsake boxes, and I have scrapbooks (too many to count at this point) and I know why I have them. I love sharing the memories with those who contributed to them, and I plan on sharing them with the future generation. Was this Paul's plan too?



Want to know someone's secret? Get 'em drunk!

That was my dad's philosophy!

So after yesterday's post, I decided I must go into the weekend with a fun Friday story. This is the second part to "Hello Hollywood!" If you have not read that post yet, start there and then continue with this one.

So we left off in Hollywood with the tale of my father's "relationship" (not sure how long it lasted) with Katharine Ross. As I mentioned Katharine used body guards who were former secret servicemen. Specifically they worked for JFK. According to my mom, Paul was a bit obsessed with the Kennedy family (although I guess most Americans were in love with Camelot). In fact, he actually donated money to Kennedy campaigns. This always seemed to shock my mom a bit, she says he was a Republican. Regardless he really wanted to know the dirt on JFK and who better to ask than some of his former bodyguards. So the story goes that Paul asked and asked, but due to confidentiality agreements, the guards would not talk. Finally, my dad decided to take them to a bar on the pier in Manhattan Beach, get them wasted, and then see what they would reveal.

Sure enough it worked! The best story they told was regarding Marilyn Monroe. The former agents stated that the President has guards around him all the time. When the President goes into personal spaces (bedrooms/bathrooms) the guards wait outside. They told my dad that while they never saw the affair, they did see Marilyn go into private rooms in the White House and...... the walls were NOT soundproof!

Happy Friday Everyone!

P.S. Thanks for following the blog! Over 300 viewings so far - no idea if that is a lot in the world of blogging, but it seems like it! Keep speading the word - you never know who might have encountered Paul on their own journey - I mean heck, he once started to sail around the world (seriously, in a sail boat...around the world - who does that? Yup, my dad!)

Katharine Ross in the 1960s - My dad had good taste!

Not totally obsessed...

So I know it has been awhile since my last update, but I have been trying really hard not to get obsessed (I might have a slight case of undiagnosed OCD, which makes this rather difficult for me). However, I know this is going to be a long process and I just need to take it one step at a time.

With that being said, I do not have much for an update. I am planning on sitting down with my mom on Thanksgiving with a timeline of Paul's life as she knows it. I figure that would be a good starting point. I can then show that to others who can add in more details, stories, and fix any possible errors. Might seem strange that I need my mom to make a basic timeline, but to be honest I am not even totally sure of my dad's birthday - the last time I celebrated it was when I was nine, and nine-year-olds aren't that great with dates - I think it is October 12th?? Pathetic right? 

The one date I do know is the date he died, February 27th. I was not planning on writing that story tonight, but why not - I am procrastinating grading anyways.

My father never led a "healthy" lifestyle - he smoked a tobacco pipe all the time (see pictures below), ate whatever he wanted, and drank A LOT! He worked a lot, exercised little (if at all) and was always a little overweight. He had been diagnosed with high blood pressure at a young age, but hated the medication, so rarely took it. His father died relatively young of a mysterious disease (can anyone fill me in on this mystery?). In other words, the odds were stacked against him. In fact, he had told my mother on multiple occasions that he knew he was going to die young. Maybe that is why he just never gave a crap about his health - he wanted to enjoy life (sometimes I find myself indulging like he did because I know how short life can be).

The irony about this, is a few months before he died he went on this health kick. He lost weight, basically stopped smoking, and I think even cut back on the drinking (which probably annoyed my mom, she says he was much more enjoyable after a drink or two). I guess it was too little too late, or if you believe in fate, just didn't matter.

In late February Paul woke up and was basically numb on half his body. My mom called his doctor who said to call 911 - he was pretty sure it was a stroke. Mom woke me up and told me to look out for the ambulance - she would not let me go into the bedroom to see him. I waited outside and flagged the ambulance down, then my mom sent me to my room - she did not want me to see him being wheeled out on a stretcher. Surprisingly I actually listened to her and did not sneak a peak. I remember hearing the words stroke and freaking out a bit. I was in fourth grade and we had just finished reading a chapter book where the grandfather died of a stroke. I called my best friend Jenny and told her what had happened, her response was something like "oh s*it!" She had just read the same book. I remember feeling guilty because the night before I refused to go and kiss my father goodnight. I don't remember much else. Someone must have come and taken care of me.

Paul was taken to John Muir in Walnut Creek and they determined that is was a stroke. My grandparents came out to help my mom watch me while she was also trying to spend time with my father. As luck would have it I came down with a horrible flu. I was really bitter and angry that my mom was choosing to take care of my father and not take care of me. While I was recovering from the flu, it appeared that Paul was recovering as well. The doctors said it would be a slow process, that he might be in a wheelchair for awhile, that his speech might be impaired, and that he would need a lot of physical therapy - but that he would recover.

Due to the fact that I was only 9 years old, and was recovering from the flu I was never allowed to see my father in the hospital. Once my mom took me, but I had to sit in an empty waiting room. I can remember the horrible white walls, and being bored, and angry. Angry that because I was a child I could not go into the ICU.  However, I also believed that he would recover - that is what the doctors said.

One morning I was at home with my grandparents (I don't think I went to school the entire time he was in the hospital) and my mom was visiting him. She was watching him go through some physical therapy, which seemed to be going really well, when everything just stopped. His body failed, his heart stopped, and my mom had to watch it happen. She was 39 years old.

A few hours later she came home and came up to my room. She sat on my bed and looked at me and I said to her "he died." I knew. Still not sure how I knew, but I did.

Today when I think about his death it is so different. I can't really mourn a person I did not really know, I can only mourn what could have been. A life I never knew. But my life has been so wonderful, it seems silly for me to think that it could have been better. I think today, as a wife, I now experience the loss on a totally different level. When I mourn now it is because I can only imagine the pain my mother had to go through. Actually, to be honest I can not even imagine it, even the thought makes it hard for me to breathe.

So, when you are done reading this don't feel sorry for me. Instead learn from this as I have. Every moment you need to live. Enjoy and appreciate it all. Eat and drink whatever the hell you want ( I have given up on the size six, I want to enjoy life too much) and think about one of my dad's favorite songs, which is so fitting.

"And now, the end is here
and so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and ev'ry highway
and more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Regrets, I've had a few
but then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
and more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
when I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
to think I did all that
and may I say, not in a shy way,
Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way.

For what is man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
the record shows I took the blows and did it my way!

Yes it was my way"

Gorilla's in first class...

When I was 8 my parents took me to Disneyland for the first time. It was the last year of my dad's life and he finally felt like he had extra money to spend, so we started to do a ton of travelling. Now when my dad travelled he liked to do it in style - i.e. hotel suites, limos, first class plane tickets.

While in Disneyland I found a giant, almost life sized gorilla in Adventureland and I became obsessed. The gorilla was a replica of "Koko," the real gorilla who was taught sign language and had a pet kitten. I loved the story of Koko and was sure that I was meant to have this stuffed animal! After a lot of begging dad surprised me with the gift - only problem, how do we get a huge gorilla home?

Easy, Paul simply buys another first class plane ticket for Koko!

Of course we boarded first and ordered drinks, so as the rest of the passengers took their seats they had to pass buy a grown man sitting next to a life sized stuffed gorilla - each had a Crown Royal on the rocks!

That was the fun Paul, totally crazy, spontaneous, generous!

I would probably not believe it was true, but I was there and a part of the adventure. Which makes me think, that maybe all the crazy adventures and stories he described to my mom (many of which are totally unbelievable) are actually all true....and if not, will someone out there please call "bull - _____" on my dad!

A Bit Overwhelmed...

Yup that's me. I totally underestimated the response I would get from writing this, and thus have been a little overwhelmed. After over 20 years of mostly unanswered questions, there has been a barrage of information. I guess I just was not asking the questions loud enough (can't get much louder than the Internet!). So what I thought would be another leisurely attempt to piece together elements of my father's life has turned into something else entirely. Totally unpredictable, out of my control, and awesome! I sort of had an unplanned, vague vision of what this blog would be, but over the weekend, I think I actually was able to figure out a way to write it truthfully without causing any relationship casualties. And I started to figure that out Friday morning.

Friday morning I met up with my half-sister for breakfast. I had of course emailed her about the blog thinking she might be interested in following it. Paul was her biological father after all. In addition, her mom was with Paul for 6 years, so there is a chunk of his life I have never really had access to. I was actually a bit surprised that she was not just interested, but pretty enthusiastic about learning more and about helping me. As we talked, for really the first time about Paul, the question that kept coming up was how do we know what is the true story? Obviously Paul can't tell his version, so we are only hearing one perspective, or "stories" that Paul told. How do we verify the truth? How do we filter out the bias? And the big question that has haunted me since my post on "almost regrets," how do I make sure that I am not hurting any bystanders in the process of the story.....walking away from that breakfast I came to a few conclusions...

1. I am OK with not necessarily knowing the whole truth

2. I am OK with other people's opinions of Paul (trust me, I do NOT have some glorified vision of him, and I am pretty sure all of me "negative" traits I inherited from him - seriously mom, I am not kissing your ass, and hubby you can blame Paul).

3. Finally this blog is NOT going to have all the details, the names, the personal information that could hurt the living - this blog is going to be about my quest to find out the storyline, to put the pieces together, to find some version of the truth, and to share some of the best & worst stories with you. 

Already I am starting to feel a little bit better, a little more organized! For those who responded last week and I have yet to get back to, I promise I will email you! Please be patient, and start thinking of your Paul stories now! Anything you would like to share!

Now for something fun that came about as a direct result of this blog!

One of my coworkers has lots of family in the area, and actually had an Aunt that graduated a few years after Paul. So she called up her aunt and sure enough, she totally knew who Paul was! She even had her yearbooks handy and pulled out Paul's senior yearbook. Under his senior photo it stated:

"Rare smiler, speaks when spoken to, partial to ponytails."

It also says he was on Varsity Track, JV Football, Junior Prom Committee, Rally Committee, Letterman, and his future was Ames College.

Funny how just a few words under a yearbook photo can reveal so much...

Hello Hollywood!...part of chapter 3

Before I jump in, just want to say I LOVE facebook! I was able to get the contact information for some of my dad's oldest friends! Ted French and my dad knew each other as kids and Ted & Ingrid were actually roommates with Paul for awhile. I have their email so expect some updates on earlier parts of his life! Still looking for others, so help me out!

Now onto "Hollywood"...and the story I love to tell my students!

So I have no idea where this exactly fits in with all the wives or even in relation to the other parts of Paul's life in Southern California, but it is one of my favorite stories. The key word here might actually be "story." I don't think I have actually met anyone who can verify the accuracy - but I guess that is what the blog is partially about. So if you know if this is true, if you know of more details, or where this fits into the timeline of Paul's life, please let me know!

Sometime in the late 1960s (I think) my father moved to Southern California, and ended up living in a house on the beach in Manhattan Beach. It just so happened his house was right next door to a famous 1960s actress...Katharine Ross. Ms. Ross was best known for her role in The Graduate (she played the daughter). She also appeared in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Voyage of the Damned (which I show every year to my students) and The Stepford Wives. She was actually nominated for an Oscar and I believe won a Golden Globe. Paul and Katherine ended up being more than neighbors, and dated for a brief time. While it is a fun fact that he dated a movie star - the story actually gets better.

Ms. Ross was famous enough that she did use security on occasion. It just so happened her security guards were former secret service men. Now here I must remind you of the era, the late 1960s. Anyone want to guess who the secret serviceman had protected prior to Ms. Ross????

Hint: They felt like they had failed at their jobs and thus retired to become private guards...

Share you guesses...

To Be Continued...

Almost regrets...

So I decided to write this blog on a whim, which if you know me may shock you. Rarely do I do anything without serious planning. Thus right after my first two posts I began to freak out. I started to realize that while originally writing a blog about a dead person seemed harmless (can't offend someone who is dead), the blog would actually be about a lot more than just him. In fact, the very people who I need to help me in writing the story will be in parts of the story, and I am afraid that may actually deter my mission.

My fears were somewhat assuaged when I woke up Friday morning and found emails of support and interest. People are actually enthusiastic and interested in my mission, which gives me hope that I will actually succeed.

Now, with that being said, I still have concerns and I hope that others will trust me to be both honest and fair in the retelling of the facts, and that people will have faith that my goal is not to divulge any one's secrets, or to hurt any one's feelings.

So here is my request. I tentatively have some ideas for the chapters I would like to compose. However as it stands right now some chapters will be empty without the help of you. So please look over the list and see if you could send me any information, short stories, or names of those who could help me. Also, feel free to comment on anything I post that is inaccurate. I am simply retelling stories I heard growing up, and over the years I am sure I have forgotten some of the details...

Chapter 2: Childhood/Teen Years/Early 20s (HELP!!!)
Chapter 3: Movie Stars & The Mafia (life in Southern CA)
Chapter 4: Looking for Love (three wives, and three babies) - this is the chapter that makes me the most nervous!!!
Chapter 5: Dreams Fulfilled (The Sky Valley Years)
Chapter 6: The End: "My Way"

A few names of people who I know could help me (please forward this on to them if you know them):
- Ted & Ingrid French (lifelong friends, last known address in Danville)
- Ardeth Mason (Paul's sister, last known address is Walnut Creek)
- Don Brown (business partner for Sky Valley Project)
- Las Lomas High School Graduates (Class of 1959)
- Katharine Ross (actress best known for role in The Graduate, last known address LA)

Up next - the beginnings of Chapter 3 (which has some of my favorite Paul stories)!

Chapter #1: What are you?

I am constantly being asked "what am I?" With a first name of Echo, a maiden name like Nave (add a french accent on the e), an olive skin complexion, freckles, and black curly hair, people just can not figure me out.

Too bad the answer the question is so complicated. And thus chapter number one.

Here is how the story goes (according to my father):

My paternal grandfather's name was Paul Nave, Sr. He was born in raised in Kentucky (sometime around the turn of the century) and had a rough home life. His father's name was supposedly John Nave (also born and raised in Kentucky). At the age of fourteen my grandfather ran away from home, forged some documents, ended up with a fake id and joined the military.

After his military service (we have a framed letter from President Ford thanking him for his service) he ended up in Walnut Creek, California. Eventually he married my grandmother, Norma Mackenzie. They had two children, my Aunt Ardeth and my father. My grandpa was quite the entrepreneur. He owned the first electronics shop in the East Bay (Nave Electrics) and owned a lot of property in both Walnut Creek and Lake Tahoe. In fact he and his business partner (something Lawrence, as in Lawrence Meat Co in Alamo) built some of the original stores that are now Broadway Plaza. My dad actually spent most of his youth in a house that was right on the Creek (now the location of Trader Joes). My grandfather died of a mysterious illness a few years before I was born. My grandmother died a year after my father's death. I have had little contact with my Aunt since his death (if you have her info, send this to her please).

So far I know this does not seem weird, but here's the problem with this story.

After my father died (and getting so many questions about my heritage) I took it upon myself to do some genealogical research. I have an uncle who spend a lot of time researching, and between his research and mine here is what we have found...

1. Two social security numbers for my grandfather Paul Nave Sr
2. Two social security numbers for my father (with different dates of birth)
3. No evidence that a Paul Nave or John Nave ever lived in Kentucky (born, lived, or died) during the appropriate time period.

We have been researching now for close to 20 years, and still have ever been able to find any evidence of a John Nave.

Do you know?

Here We Go..

Hi!

My name is Echo Nichole Nave Hamilton and I am on a mission! Yup, a mission. The other night I was wide-awake at 2am and my mind started to wander. I started to think about my dad, and his life, and how his life would make a great movie - well at least the version of his life I know.

My dad died when I was nine years old. February 27, 1989. I barely knew the man, and have pretty limited memories, as he worked a lot. As I have gotten older I have often times wondered about the crazy stories that were supposedly his life before me. References to movie stars, secret service agents, the mafia, a sailing trip around the world....seriously, this was the life he claimed to have led to my mother. But did he? Who was he really? How well do you ever really know a parent (regardless of how long they have been in your life)? How well do you ever know anyone?

Well I am about to try and figure it all out.

Now what makes this quest even more difficult is that fact that many of the people who could possibly answer these questions have also passed away or have simply disappeared from my life. But now with the concept of a blog, the wonders of the Internet, and the fact that I am amazed every day by how small a world it truly is, I am hoping to try and get an answer to the question...did you know Paul Nave? (and who the hell was he??)

Here is my plan:
1. Announce this blog to every person I possibly know (and hope you will pass it along as well)
2. Create "chapters" on my dad's life which people can comment on (hopefully people who actually knew him can provide some sort of insight).
3. Put it all together into a cohesive life story that can be passed down to children, and now grandchildren he has left behind.

If you read this and you knew my father, please share your stories, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I want the truth - this is a man I barely knew and I am pretty sure there is nothing you can say that will shock me, or hurt my feelings (seriously, I want it all). If you do not wish to post your comments publicly, PLEASE EMAIL ME!!!

So we go...

Echo
ehamilton@srvhs.org