The first recollection I have of Dad is at the little house at 1330 N. Huron Street, across and down three houses from Grandma Andrews. The next door lot was vacant and Dad used it for a garden.  The house is gone now and replaced by something bigger and better. My favorite·memory from these days was sitting on the front porch steps with Dad and Phil, eating a fresh tomato. We moved from 1330 N Huron to 820 West Grand in 1943. Mayflower did this move, about one and one half blocks and I got to ride in the cab - big deal for a three year old kid.

Dad didn't have a full formal education. Considering the economic landscape at that period he dropped out of public school prior to graduation and went to work. This had nothing to do with his numerous accomplishments. There was very little he could not do if inclined. He was an accomplished electrician, plumber, carpenter, and mechanic. In the 820 W. Grand house, he added an upstairs full bathroom, modified the back second story into the "sleeping porch", added a back porch, remodeled the back room into a full kitchen with all the features of that day, added a shower in the basement, built a model railroad after cementing the dirt floor and numerous other home projects. Dad was very handy and could do anything he chose. He was also an avid self-taught photographer (link). Nothing stood in his way.

Keith's recent article in the Andrews-Morgan newsletter highlighted some early events in Dad's life that I'd not known about, including his store on the back lot of Grandma Andrews' property. During World War II, Dad was an electrical design engineer for the 6" and 8" shell stamping presses at Macon Arms munitions factory in Decatur. He worked at Caterpillar Tractor, as an electrical design engineer. About 1950, things financially were tough. He took a job with the Wabash as a night switchman in the Decatur yards. I can remember driving with Mom to take him to his 11:30 PM call for duty. The switchman's job is hazardous under any circumstance. At night, in the dead of winter with ice and snow, it's a real sport just to stay alive. He sold real estate with Roby and Roby in Decatur. Later, he took a job as traveling salesman with The Vernon Company of Newton, Iowa. His products here were advertising items for businesses to give to their favorite clients. I never heard Dad complain about his work or his lot in life. He always did what had to be done to support his family. I would describe our means as modest, but I can not recall that we ever went without the necessities. Dad was a great provider for his family.

He loved to read, particularly of western lore. He was on a "first name" basis with many of the real life characters of places like Tombstone, Az and Dodge City, Kansas. He knew Johnny Behan and the Earps well.

Early in WWII, Dad tried to enlist in the US Marine Corps. When asked about children - he report 3; when asked about technical skills, he reported his many. The recruiter told him to go back and take care of his family and otherwise support the war effort. He did both in spectacular fashion.

Dad was fiscally conservative and fiscally disciplined. His credit was impeccable. He was widely known and respected.

He refinished an old piano we had into a beautiful antique finish. It was superb.

Dad had a wonderful sense of humor, sly and wry, and often "tested" folks to see if they were paying attention. Here are some examples link.

Among the fondest memories I have of Dad are associated with watching trains. These were the last days of steam on the Wabash and the introduction of diesel engines. It was about two miles from the 820 W. Grand house to the Wabash Depot. A very big treat was to walk with Dad down to the depot and sit on baggage carts to watch the trains. Not just a few either. In those days, Decatur was the operating hub of the Wabash. There were 22 manifest [regularly scheduled] freight trains sent out daily, 8 passenger trains, four locals working the four directions for the way freight traffic, industrial switching for Staley, Caterpillar, Firestone, ADM, Kellogg and number other businesses located near the yards. There was also interchange switching with B&O, IC, ITRR and PRR. IC had a major north-south branch through Decatur, crossing WABASH right at the depot area. There were several coal and mixed freights daily on this branch. The biggest treat, however, was the long drive [22 miles] to Clinton to watch the Illinois Central Green Diamond passenger train go through. Thanks Dad. The SVRR link shows Dad's influence and his memories are incorporated throughout.

We changed from a coal furnace to gas in the late 1940s or early 50s. Dad did almost all the work on this with just one company man to help. He put in a large swing set in the back yard and made many improvements in the basement ... it was a wonderful place to play and have parties. Mom and Dad held square dances there and Phil held frat parties there. 820 was a wonderful place - thanks to Dad and Mom.

Had I been my father, I'd have shot me as a youngster. I was rotten. But Dad very seldom said much and never raised his hand. He shared Mom's anxiety about my dropping out of Milliken to join the Navy. Dad paced my every step and as I progressed, attitudes slowly changed. I received my Navy wings in July 1963 at Chase Field in Beeville, Texas. I asked Dad to pin them on. He nearly burst, with pride I assume.

In 1967, Mom and Dad sold much of their household possessions, packed the rest in a U - Haul trailer and started west for Oregon. That's quite a change in pace for folks of that time and place who typically were born, grew up, had their families, and died in the same town, often without ever leaving the city limits. They visited me in China Lake [middle of the Mojave Desert] on the way. After Mom died, Dad moved to Salem to live out his days.

Dad could read piano sheet music, after a fashion. But he could play by ear - and he was great. When we lived in Decatur, he would frequently go into the piano room and fill the house with happiness. There was a 1930s and 40s piano player named Frankie Carle, a favorite of mine - Dad could make the same sounds. Sally has some recordings of him made a few years before he died. He was past his piano peak but still could make you happy just to listen. The recordings should be in a Pilgrim Library somewhere. Grandkids, do yourselves a favor and ask Sally to lend them to you for a while. The happy times are the best and easiest things for me to remember. But I do clearly recall his stroke when he lived in Salem, Oregon. The stroke was significant and totally paralyzed one side. He was mostly incapacitated and required skilled care. I was able to come from southern California 2 or 3 times shortly before he died. I told him about "PR", his grandson, flying in the Libya Integrated Live Fire Exercises [War?] of the early 90s. He was extremely proud, showing so with his eyes when his speech failed him.

Above all, the best memory of him I have is his example, "don't belly ache and complain, just get to work and do it!" He was totally self made. I love you, Dad. Thanks.