My First Love When I was a little girl, Daddy was active and adventurous. We would go hiking out to Red Rock Canyon and camping at Lee Canyon. If he saw smoke we would all pile in the car and go look for the fire. More than once we chased UFOs. We spent most of our time outside in the summer. He built what is now referred to as an outside kitchen on our patio in the early 1960s. We had the pool and would practically live in the yard. We moved when I was in the 5th grade. We traded Red Rock adventures for trips to the lake. Sometimes we would just drive around it to see the water level. Since he died I have seen it overflow and at a record low level, I always think of him when I am at the lake.
The Dad I had as a teenager was different. He was sick by then. We did less and went less, but he taught me more. He taught me how to be self sufficient by not limiting my training to just "girl" activities. We would work on the car, the swamp cooler or the fence. I know a little about a lot of things because of him.
From him I learned to love country music, sport and travelling.
In 1974 he had a quadruple bypass. That is a big deal now, then it was huge. He was in ICU for 2 weeks. Another 2 weeks before he was released. After the heart surgery he became less active, but his spirit and zest for life never waned.
I miss you Daddy.
The Woman Who Gave Me More Than I Ever Knew First off, let me say that finding pictures of the lady who took the pictures is not easy. I wanted to describe to you all the flowery wonderful things that I remember about my mom. I tried several times to start that note. It would not come out. Anybody who really knows me knows better. We had a volatile relationship. But she taught me everything she knew. She did the best she could with what she was given. And I miss her. There are times where I still think that I need to call her to let her know something. There are times when I think that she has something for me. She loved Bobby Darin’s music and Harold Robbins novels. She made her own clothes and taught me to sew. She was a good Catholic. She loved her chord organ. She wanted to write a novel. For many years her passion was the Eagles. She started the drive that led to fireworks in Henderson for the Fourth of July. She adored her father. She knit, did jigsaw and crossword puzzles. She loved my Dad. I am more understanding now than I was then. Is it distance from the problems or the fact that I am now the age she was then? I don't know.