Wendell

Wendell was my Dad. He passed away this year on May 22nd. It was the end of an era. I'd like to share a little about my Dad as part of my celebration of his life. A great deal of who I am and how I have gone about living my life, was my Dad.

My Dad and I were quite different in many ways. He was quiet by nature. A man of few words. I on the other hand, love talking. My father was an excellent cook and baker, having worked as such much of his adult life. The closest I ever come to cooking is microwaving a Lean Cuisine that requires two separate heating periods with a little stirring in between. Our politics were also different. From what I can deduce from his seldom-expressed opinions, Pop (which is what I usually called him since my early adulthood) was a Nixonian conservative, and a "school of hard knocks" realist (although in later life he was more supportive of Democratic/labor positions on issues). I have always been a flaming liberal, a true child of the 60s, complete with all the idealism and naiveté typical of that era.

But I like to think that at heart we were cut from the same cloth. We both had and have a high degree of respect for others. We've showed it in different ways over the years, but understood the importance of viewing others as equally entitled to the important things in life - honesty, fairness, consideration of their well-being. We also shared a belief that there is no free lunch. One almost always reaps what he or she sows. This went hand in hand with a strong faith in hard work, prudent management of available resources (waste not, want not), and preservation of relationships. As a small business man most of his life, my Dad knew early on the value of retaining customers.

I must add that it wasn't always seriousness and work with my Dad. We both loved our play time. For me, as evidenced in many of my previous posts, it's movies and music, sports, and hanging with a fairly large group of friends (often as many as we can jam into one venue at a time). For Dad, it was spending time with a couple of couples - life long friends - and during the Bay City years (where he and Mom lived until retirement in the late 80s) periodic weekends in the Indian River area with these same friends and a few others who had relocated to that area (about 120 miles north of Bay City).

And to be clear, he knew how to party. Upon occasion Nancy and I accompanied my parents on Indian River weekends. Invariably we would be dragging and begging to return to our motel rooms long before the "Ps" were willing to call it a night. 

We also shared a love of the Tigers, listening to nightly games on the radio during my childhood, and later watching games on a variety of TV hookups, from the original satellite dish (the 10' in diameter kind) to current cable and Internet connections. Pop took up with the Rays in the last 10 years, as he was a full time resident of Zephyrhills on the north side of Tampa. But he kept up with the Tigers as well through my Mom who still watches every game on MLB.TV.

As a matter of fact, I'm very grateful that my last night with my Dad, who was in home hospice care during his final few months, was spent watching a Rays game on the big-screen TV we put in his room for just that purpose. To the end he was conversant on the status of the team, their upcoming talent and the details of the American League East race. He would probably be pretty put out with the Rays' recent trade of David Price to the Tigers, as it signified to true Rays fans that they were giving up on this year's chances for reaching the playoffs.

Another activity Pop loved was playing cribbage, which we did on a daily basis whenever we were together. In between my visits, he cribbed with my Mom who is a pretty capable player in her own right. In the last couple of years Pop also developed a liking for Mexican Train, a very popular domino game these days (action shots of my parents deep in battle in both of these games was captured in my earlier post Hanging with the Ps).

In that post, I also described a typical visit to my parents, something we did four or five times a year since they settled permanently in Florida in 1999. Those trips usually included a few days at a Disney resort as well as a number of side trips to local points of interest. Among them was a memorable trip to Key West (the real one) in 2010 for their 60th wedding anniversary. It concluded with a beautiful seafood dinner overlooking the ocean sunset. I am very grateful that Nancy and I had the time and the means to make those 40+ visits to Florida during a time when my Dad's health allowed him to enjoy them.

I think it's time to add some art. Here are a few pictures of my Dad. This first one is the oldest one I have, taken with his Dad, Fred, in 1926. Fred was a Bay County deputy sheriff. Pop was a babe in arms.

This one is at age five. Note the intensity. When he needed it, my Dad could always summon this steely gaze, often when he knew I or one of my siblings wasn't sharing "the whole truth".

And this somewhat lighter shot at age nine, hinting at the dapper side of my Dad that would emerge in his 20s.

I don't have a lot of photographs from my Dad's early teens, but I know that he grew up fast. It was the 40s, and there was a war on. He spent some time serving as a cook's mate on a Great Lakes freighter, and then enlisted in the Army Air Corp as soon as he was old enough. Here are a couple of classic shots from his Army days. The first is of his basic training squad in 1944. He was 18. He's second from the left in the back.

And this shot of Dad's B-29 crew. He was a waist gunner (operating out of one of those glass bubbles) and is second from the left kneeling in front. Pop didn't talk about his service much, as was his way and typical of the "greatest generation". But he did tell me once that he never had to fire his weapon in an actual fire fight. Apparently the armament on B-29s was so intimidating that Japanese fighters simply headed the other way when they saw them.

After the war my Dad spent several months on Saipan waiting for the ship home. In retrospect, notwithstanding the war, I think Pop liked the military, the opportunities it offered young men, and the sense of dignity and pride that went with service in World War II. Every once in a while he would let slip that he might have stayed in the Army for the 20 year retirement if he had it to do over again.

After the war, my Dad landed a job managing a supermarket. He soon parlayed that experience into ownership of first one, then two Borden's dairy stores in Bay City, one on the east side where he grew up and one on the west side close to where our family moved when I was in the 2nd grade. He eventually let the east side store go working the west side store for over 20 years. This store played a huge role in my childhood. It was a combination grocery store/short-order grill that filled the niches that would eventually be taken over by convenience stores (like 7-11s) and drive-ins. Here's an early shot of "Wendell's Dairy Store".

During this period Pop was active in local business organizations, like the Kiwanis Club, and attended regular social events with his fellow west-side business owners. One of these in the late 50s/early 60s was a three or four day cruise around the great lakes. Having sailed as a cook's mate during his teen years,  Pop loved the return to the lakes that these outings provided. Here is a shot of Pop relaxing topside during one of these cruises.

Here are a few more pics of my Dad from the family archives. This first one is with my Mom and his mother Catherine, circa 1961, I believe at Grandma's birthday party. In the 50's and 60s I remember a number of social events in the south end of Bay City where most of my Dad's relatives resided (he had four sisters).

This shot from '74 was taken at the cabin of friends during one of the regular Indian River weekends.

Note the pipe. On August 21st, 1973, each fearful for the health of the other, my Dad and I made a "quit smoking" bet. The first one to smoke a cigarette had to pay the other $100. I was 25 and had smoked for five years. My Dad had the greater burden by far as he had smoked for about 30 years. Neither of us ever had another cigarette. And a few months after this picture was taken (Christmas of 1974 to be exact), we added pipes and cigars to the bet, with equal effectiveness. So Pop with a pipe is a real blast from the past.

This pic was taken during the Ps 25th anniversary. My siblings and I hosted a big blowout at sister Wendy's house in Essexville, a suburb on the northeast side of Bay City. That's Wendy sitting with my Mom and younger sister Cindy with my Dad. A good time is obviously being had by all. The shirts in the background without heads are my brother Jeff and I.

This next shot is from a typical family gathering (Xmas '76) with my Dad and Mom entertaining a gaggle of grandchildren. That's Wendy again on the left (with a very 70s do) and from left to right on the laps, her Jennifer, my Ted, her Melanie, and the fuzzy one is Reka (short for Eureka), the Ps beloved dog.

The next pic is a family classic. It's from '81, but it could have been from any year as this was a favorite spot for my Dad during family gatherings - spread out on the living room carpet with this over-sized pillow, dozing off dinner and waiting for a grandchild to discover his vulnerable condition and pounce. This pillow is now a permanent fixture at our family cottage, Wiser Times, and still gets its fair share of use.

My Dad always liked Chinese food and had a favorite restaurant in Freeland (not too far to the southwest of Bay City). Here is a shot of him with my Mom enjoying a little egg foo yung on their anniversary in 1981. As their anniversary was only a few days after Nancy's and mine in June, this was a scene often repeated. Of course, they were 30 years ahead of us. Note the fashionable leisure style Pop was sporting. Hey, it was the 80s. And I'm pretty sure I was wearing sans-a-belt pants.

In the 70s, after raising four kids and pushing them all out of the house, Mom and Dad bought a ranch-style home on a country road a little north of Bay City. The new home had a big yard fit for entertaining kids and grandkids and perfect for gardening, which my Dad did a lot of over the years. He even started his own grape vines to feed his home-made wine habit. It was not unusual for him to have a dozen jugs of wine fermenting in his utility room, made from all sorts of things he had grown. This pic is of Mom and Dad relaxing on the porch at the back of the house during one of our frequent weekend visits to "the country", as we called it.

In 1999, with both Mom and Dad having been retired for several years and growing weary of winters, they finally made the move to Florida on a full-time basis. All through the 90s they were snow-birds, wintering in the Tampa area in a small mobile home close to my Grandma Katy, but spending the summers in Linwood, gardening and enjoying the fine Michigan weather. This is a shot of them in their then new, much larger double-wide in the Tippecanoe Park in Zephyrhills, about 20 miles northeast of Tampa. The Tippecanoe home served as the new family gathering place for years, often hosting large groups over the Xmas and Easter holiday breaks.

My parents had many happy years at Tippecanoe, making new friends and adopting the comfortable and leisurely Florida lifestyle. They socialized quite a bit in the early years, including regular attendance at the  Friday night bingo session. Pop loved bingo. Here is a shot of him hovering over his array of cards, waiting for the action to begin. Of course, Nancy and I joined Mom and Dad for bingo night whenever we were in town on a Friday, but we were bingo wimps, usually playing a paltry five cards. Real, power-bingo players play at least eight cards and often reach into double digits. And arrive an hour early to get their pick of the best cards. I knew I was over my head, but put in as good a showing as I could to not embarrass my parents.

As noted above, Mom and Dad often joined Nancy and me for a few days at a Disney resort whenever we made it to Florida. In the 2012 pic below we are enjoying a weekend at Vero Beach, one of my Dad's favorite spots. Until walking became an issue for him around 2008, he loved to get up early and cruise around the ocean beach a bit. The last few years, we would spend more time relaxing, watching baseball, thumping each other at cribbage, and enjoying a libation or two in the resort bistro, The Green Cabin Room, where this shot was taken.

The most recent picture I have of my Dad is this photo of him and my Mom taken last fall for the Tippecanoe Park directory. I like this picture a lot as I think it captures my Dad's and my Mom's inner glow, that predisposition for fun. At this sitting, he was 87, she 89.

I hope that this brief look into my Dad's life arc will give you a feel for who he was, and through me and my siblings, who he still is. There will be more of Wendell, of course, as I resume my journey through the family photo conversion project. But for now, I think this is a good start on my Dad's story.

Of course, we miss him greatly. Personally, I miss his alert sense of humor and his razor-sharp mind for business and money. I miss that single raised eyebrow that let me know he was on to me when I was stretching the truth a bit. And I miss his good-natured accusations that I was cheating anytime I had a cribbage hand of eight points or more (my Mom has been filling in on that item pretty well of late). But most of all, I miss knowing he'll be there to greet me the next time I complete the 1200 mile drive to Zephyrhills.

We're all in the family entering a new chapter now, especially my Mom who shared her life with my Dad for over 60 years. But we're doing well making the adjustment to his absence, and remembering him every day in a positive way. And that, to a large extent, has been possible because of how well he prepared us emotionally, practically, and financially, for this time.

Thanks for everything, Pop. Hope you are well.

Grosse Pointe Charles