Fun Monday - Hero(s)

Kitten is this week’s host, and this is her assignment; I'd like to know "Who is Your Hero" Not from TV, but your real life hero. It can be one or it can be many. Just someone you have or do look up to. You can do this any way you would like and if you want or can, share pictures!

I'm going with my first thought, I have two heroes and I'm related to both of them.

First, is my hubs, Bob. He's not perfect, really. But here's an example of what a wonderful man he is in his core. The year is 1969; we've been married for 5 years, living in our home in Long Beach, and have one wonderful child, Carrie. Bob had been working in the aerospace industry since leaving the Navy. In the Navy he was an aircrew man - aircraft mechanic. When we were married and up until 1969, he worked for North American Aviation in Downey. He worked in the Clean-Room, building the Apollo Command Modules that went to the Moon. Well, when that project was complete, he and many others were laid-off. He came home and told me not to worry. I was a SAHM.

The next day he went to work for General Motors in South Gate. His job was delivering parts to the production line with a forklift. He hated that job, can you say boring. But he kept working until he found something else, a pipefitter at Shell Oil in Wilmington. He actually liked that position, it was varied and interesting. He learned a lot.

Bob had always wanted to be a policeman, so during this transition phase, he applied at every local police department that was taking applications. You'll notice thru all this he never missed a single day of employment, he didn't mope around and wonder what to do. He took action, and took care of his family. Becoming a police officer is a very time consuming proposition, it took months. He was eventually hired by LAPD, and went thru their academy. When he graduated from the Police Academy, I was ready to deliver our second wonderful child. She was born a couple of weeks later, and didn't cost a cent, between the health insurance we had, first Shell Oil, and then LAPD. A free baby. This photo is of Bob and the free baby, Sharon, all grown up.

My second Hero is my Dad, Rex Davis. He was born on June 9th, 1920, in Lodgepole, Nebraska. He was a great Dad to my sister and I. He made sure we were well taken care of our whole lives, until he died. Without him I'm sure our childhood, my sister's and mine, would have been Hell. Our mother is a nice woman, if you met her, you'd love her, but she was a horrid Mom, and not much of a Grandmother, either. (It's funny, she's a pretty good Great Grandmother.) We always knew that we were important to him.

As children, we saw the whole United States, except New England and Florida, for some reason, thanks to Dad.

Dad was a telephone man, and once a co-worker questioned him about how he could afford to take us so many places on a telephone man's wages. Dad asked the guy a few of questions of his own.

"Do you smoke, how much do you spend on cigarettes a week? a year?"

"Do you drink, how much do you spend on booze?"

"Do you go to the bars, how much does that cost?"

Dad told the fellow, "I don't smoke, drink or go to bars, so I have that money to spend on my family."

When we were older and active in scouting, Dad spent many of "his" vacations chaperoning scout camping trips. These were usually co-ed scout trips. We were Mariner Scouts and the boys, among them our future husbands, were Sea Scouts, we did a lot of joint trips and cruises. Dad was always there if we needed him. That way he knew what was going on, and we were safe.

Dad stayed married to our Mom until we were adults, married with children. Then he figured it was time for some happiness of his own. Our Mom was shocked, he had made her happy for 27 years and had no idea he wasn't happy. Neither of his daughters or our husbands were surprised, and we were happy for Dad, that he was finally taking care of himself.








This is Dad at my wedding, in 1964.

This poem describes how I felt when my Dad died. I still miss him, not grieve, miss, every day.

"Moment of Inertia"

by Debra Spencer from Pomegranate


It's what makes the pancake hold still
while you slip the spatula under it
so fast it doesn't move, my father said
standing by the stove.


All motion stopped when he died.
With his last breath the earth
lurched to a halt and hung still on its axis,
the atoms in the air
coming to rest with
in their molecules, and in that moment
something slid beneath me

so fast I couldn't move.

This is my Dad in 1967, at our Davis Family Father's Day Picnic.

Now go visit the other participants at Kitten's.