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| My father and mother, 1947 |
Donis here. January 19 is a big birthday date in my little corner of the world. Today is my brother-in-law Chris DeWelt's birthday. Happy birthday, Chris! I'm also wishing a happy birthday to my friend Judy Starbuck. But this year is special, because today would be my late father's 100th birthday.
Carl Casey was born at home, in Haskell, Oklahoma, my grandmother's second child after my aunt Lucille. My grandmother told me that the doctor used chloroform on her for her second child, and she was very happy about it. However, she said that when the baby came, her sister Mary, who was attending the birth, said, "Look at them* eyes!" Grandma was alarmed and tried to see what was with the kid's eyes, but she was so groggy from the chloroform that she fell asleep. Turns out my dad was born with his blue eyes wide open, looking around curiously (according to Aunt Mary, not the most reliable of witnesses.)
That wouldn't be out of character, though. My dad was full of life, outgoing, rather boyish, and playful. He was a wonderful daddy for little kids. My grandmother told me that he was "the playing-est kid she ever saw," and he only stopped playing with his friends outside because they all got too old and he couldn't find anybody willing to play with him.
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| ...One year later... |
My father didn't live anywhere near long enough to even think about celebrating his 100th birthday. He died of a sudden heart attack in 1967, when he was 44 years old. He left a young wife and 4 children. Our mother was beyond devastated. It colored the rest of her life, though once she managed to live through the early horror of it all, she did a good job of raising the children on her own. My dad was a 19-to-23-year-old Marine posted in the Pacific theatre during WWII, and even if, as far as any of us kids saw, he was a cheerful person, he was also fatalistic about the fragility of life. So even though he died so early, he had so much life insurance and property that my mother never had to work and was able to pay for all of us to go to college. She never remarried, or even dated after he died.
I was a teenager when he died, the eldest. My youngest sibling was 18 months old. He's in his 50s now, and never really knew our father. Even so, my brother notes that he grew up in a sad household. Our dad's death changed the course of all our lives. I know it's a major reason I write the kind of books I write, set in the time and place they are set - the time and place of my father's family, a time and place he would have been familiar with.
Carl has been gone much longer than he lived, but his short life was everything to me, my siblings, all his family, and many other people, as well. So happy birthday in heaven, Daddy. We all still think about you a lot.
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* I never once heard my grandmother or any of her many siblings use the word "those".
