Our Precious Past: May 2020

My mother's father, Pa was awfully good to me. He was only 40 years old when I was born and was my primary caretaker when I was a child. I went everywhere with him. He was a farmer and that old pickup truck of his was our ticket to adventure.

Long before seat belts or child carriers, I rode in a wooden apple box on the seat next to Pa. When I was able to stand, I'd stand next to him with my arm around his shoulders as we drove that old pick up to work.

I rode on the tractor with him when he was working his fields, and played in the ditches when he was irrigating. He used to tell me to be careful, that the gophers would bite my toes! He was always joking! He called me "Sis" and when I close my eyes and picture his face, I can still hear his voice. "Now Sis, you be careful."

One of the best memories of my childhood was waking up on a chilly morning and running into the kitchen, where Pa would have my clothes warming in the oven and oatmeal on the stove. He'd dress me and give me my oats, then we'd head off to work together, always together. He carried a thermos of coffee with him, and occasionally, he'd give me a drink from it. Sweet, hot coffee.

Pa loved the grandkids when they were babies, but when they got up a ways, tended to ignore them and/or judge them. He always played favorites with the babies. When they grew up a bit, where Ma was non-judgmental and showed unconditional love, Pa sat on his throne and pointed fingers. I wonder if that's why they got together, so she could teach him how to love unconditionally? He just couldn't do it. By the time he died, Pa had alienated every child and grandchild except me. He accused my mother of stealing his money. He accused everyone. He even was ornery with me at the end, but I refused to leave him. I loved him too deeply and realized a lot of it was age related dementia. At some point, mom had no choice but to put him in a nursing home, because he was "renting" out bedrooms and giving money to meth-heads, who were using his diabetic syringes and who eventually gave him Hepatitis and put him in the hospital.

One bad thing about Pa, he really was racist. Feeling he was better than non-white races – he’d call them jigaboos, spiks, dagos (even though he was Italian). It could be pretty embarrassing to me. He didn't even like seeing black folks on tv. He DID like Amos and Andy, and he loved watching westerns, which he called "Shoot-em-ups!"

On the other hand, he’d help people, no matter their race, if they were down and out. I recall when we lived on the big ranch on Wilson Way in Hanford. He raised cotton there and we had quite a number of black folks working and living on the property in little cabins along the roadside coming into the big house. I played with one little girl who was my age, and one time, she fell and hurt herself real bad. Pa carried her into his car and drove her and her mom to the hospital and waited until the doctor could see her, then brought them home. He made sure the mom had enough money for medicine, and he checked on them often. He really did have a good heart. He would help other people happily if they needed food, or a lift.When he was driving, if he saw someone with a flat tire, he’d stop and help. I remember being with him many times when he stopped to help people. He just never could get past the racism. He was reared in Missouri, and was a result of the times, and his rearing.

Pa wouldn't let my mother date my father because he was Portuguese, although he was fooled for a while by my father's anglo last name, Turner (his father was white.) They had to run off to get married.

Pa would fight at the drop of a hat. He had a temper. I can just hear him saying, "You stupid GALOOT!" He was like a banty-rooster and I never saw him come to blows, because usually even big guys would back down. He'd get right up to them and bump chests and they'd back down. I never saw him fight but I got the impression he could if he wanted to. He was very argumentative, and if he had an opinion, he didn't care if you liked it or not.

Pa didn’t agree with all the help Ma gave her grandchildren. He was very frustrated and ashamed with the way his son, Don, treated his children, but if given a choice on who to support between his own children, would choose that son over the girls. That was always a sore point with my mom and Sissy. Don always seemed to get the best of everything.

Pa tended to talk over people and loudly. Once I got him and his two sisters together for an interview and Holy Hell, it was wild! Each one talked louder over the other! I can see it was a family trait!

Pa wouldn’t fly in an airplane, but he did enjoy traveling in his RV or car to Missouri, Arkansas, or just around the Valley. He made many trips back to Arkansas and Missouri to drive family out to California. He loved to drive and drove truck for a while. He eventually bought an RV. He and Ma would spend winters in Quartzsite in the RV. In summers, Ma would work up at Sequoia National Park and they'd live out of the RV up there. I guess that's where I got my love of nomad living!

Pa was a dictator in many ways, and often very unreasonable. I remember a fight he and Sissy got into when she was a teen. He slapped her. That was the only time I ever saw him hit anyone. It scared me and I think I spent the next few hours with my pillow over my head in my bedroom. I remember one Halloween when I had my face all painted up to go trick or treating. He came into the house and made me go wash my face. I was so upset! He didn’t like the lipstick on me. He wouldn’t let me play with boys. I had a best friend across the street named Donny, and Pa would complain about me playing with "that boy."

I only remember getting a whipping from him once. I was about 4 or 5 years old. My mother had visited us and was flying home to Los Angeles from the Visalia airport. I had been asked if I wanted to go home with her and had said no, so no suitcase was packed. Pa and I drove her to the airport and when she left to get on the plane, I threw a tantrum because I changed my mind, and I wanted to go with her. But it was too late. No ticket. No suitcase. I cried all the way out to the pickup truck and as we headed back to Hanford, he told me several times to stop - because I wasn't just crying, I was throwing a hissy fit. Finally he stopped the car, got out, got a switch and switched my legs. My GOD that shocked me! He had NEVER hit me, NEVER! I stopped my tantrum, that's for sure. And I remembered that switching forever. I think it really did hurt him more than it hurt me, but it did make an impression on me, and I behaved myself from then on when I was with him.

One of my favorite photos of Pa

And this one, with his impish grin

Ma and Pa's marriage was traditional, where the man wore the pants. . . most of the time. What Pa said was law, almost always. I'm chuckling as I write this, because toward the end, I did notice Ma standing up to him more, especially when it was something that was really important to her or when it had to do with her grandchildren. And he would back down. He would back down. "O.k. Ma, we'll do it your way," he'd say.

I don’t remember him being a skirt-chaser but I do remember that Thanksgiving when Ma called him at a bar and asked him if he was coming home or if he wanted her to bring the turkey down to the bar! That was the only time I remember any hint of him going to bars or drinking, and I never ever saw him drink or be drunk.

It’s possible Pa did have a girlfriend. He was awfully handsome. Sissy has said he did. I don't remember noticing anything like that, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.

Pa sang two songs constantly. He had a wonderful voice. One song he sang was "Just Walk On By" and the other, my favorite, was "Fräulein" by Hank Locklin.

Far across the blue waters
Lives an old German's daughter
By the banks of the old river Rhine
Where I loved her and left her
But I can't forget her
'Cause I miss my pretty Fräulein

Fräulein, Fräulein
Look up toward the heavens

Each night when the stars seem to shine.
By the same stars above you
I swear that I love you
You are my pretty Fraulein

When my memories wander
Away over yonder
To the sweetheart that I left behind
In a moment of glory
A face comes before me
The face of my pretty Fräulein.

Fräulein, Fräulein
Walk down by the river
Pretend that your hand's holding mine
By the same stars above you
I swear that I love you

You are my pretty Fräulein.

I think I got my love of change from Pa and Ma. Pa loved change (I've inherited that trait) Because he farmed other people's land, we moved house often. One of my favorite childhood memories is moving into another old farmhouse and fixing it up. Ma and Sissy and I would wash out all the cupboards and drawers, and put shelf paper into them. We'd scrub until the whole place shined, then we'd paint. I still enjoy cleaning someone else's house or fixing up an old place for myself.

I guess I did get my temper from Pa, too and have to watch myself. As I grow older, I’m less volatile, but I do talk “with my hands in the air” and often people think I’m angry when I’m simply expressing myself.

Pa was the rock in my life, and I'll never forget how much he loved me, how much confidence he gave me, and how much self-worth he and Ma instilled in me. I honestly believe I survived childhood because they were there. Pa was my Knight in Shining Armor. I loved him more than I can ever express and I miss him and Ma every day. Every day...