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....
August 1982
Jason, 5 years old & Echo, 3 years old
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
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)
- 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
 |
| Mementos from a Trip to Pebble Beach/Monterey |
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?
Friday, September 17, 2010
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!)
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! |
Thursday, September 16, 2010
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"
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"
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
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!
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!
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
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...
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...
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