In Memoriam

Roland

April 20, 1917 - June 2, 2010

Blessings on your journey Dad.

You've come a long way Baby!

Today is my father's 93rd Birthday. He has done a lot of living since he was born in Cleveland, Ohio on April 20, 1917.

Roland's father William moved his wife Maude along with Roland and older sisters Ruth and Nadene to Portland, Oregon in the early 1920s in search of more lucrative employment. They settled first in the Brooklyn neighborhood and then further out on SE 74th where they had more land. Roland spent much of his spare time as a boy and young man tinkering with radios, building a telescope, and finally inventing a new type of door latch for which, after much effort, he received a patent.

Roland was not satisfied with his high school diploma from Clinton Kelly School of Commerce or his part time job at the US Post Office. He first pursued studies at Multnomah College and then, after being drafted into the army, took advantage of the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) and eventually received a Bachelor's Degree in Mechanical Engineering from Oregon State College. He went on to complete a Master's in Mechanical Engineering (1953) and Master's in Applied Science (1967). 

The engineering training was first put to use at Bingham Pump and Montag Oil and then at the Corps of Engineers where Roland spent 24 years designing HVAC for power houses at dams and later worked on the mechanical systems for Columbia River Dredges. All during these years he took classes at Portland State College where he pursued an interest in systems science and new forms of energy. He eventually enrolled in a systems science doctoral program. After retirement from the Corps in 1974, he continued to do research on alternative energy and he designed passive solar systems for residences.

Roland's home was his pride and joy. He designed the SE Portland home he an his young family moved into late in 1950. His engineer's eye and attention to detail resulted in a solid and expertly finished residence that is still in the family. 

Roland's deep religious faith has sustained him throughout his life. He taught sunday school, sang in the choir and served on the session during the 40 years he attended Mt. Tabor Presbyterian Church.

Later in life, Roland developed an interest in wood turning. He filled family member's homes with gifts of handmade candle sticks, music boxes, bowls, and intricate chess sets. Then around his 86th birthday he started building a 1/4 size cello. This effort resulted in a beautiful instrument that was completed just prior to his 90th birthday. The reason the cello appealed to Roland was because his bass/baritone singing voice, heard and appreciated by many over the years, was in the same range as the cello.

As a boy Roland loved the Oregon Coast and later made many trips there with Beth, his wife of more than 50 years, and their two daughters. After Beth's death in 2000, he married Marie and they spent many happy hours at the beach.

As we gather to celebrate this special day, we give thanks for a life well lived and ask for blessings on the gift of each new day. "You've come a long way Baby!"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

Digging Through the Past

I've been sifting through the almost 93 years of my father's life since he moved recently from assisted living to an adult foster home. I've read diary entries from the 1930s, a written log of work on a cello from 2004-2007, pages of calculations on gear ratios, and I've plowed through boxes of rusty screws, handmade screw drivers, and an assortment of tools such as electric carvers and micrometers. All of this while my father sits in his wheel chair not even willing/able to take care of basic bodily functions.

What does all of this mean to me or to my father. He has never been an easy person to like/love - some say he may suffer from Asperger's Syndrome a form of high functioning autism. This would explain his inability to empathize and his obsessive need to have everything his own way. I still carry the wounds of being his daughter, but at least I have a better understanding of who he wanted to be. A diary entry he wrote on Wednesday, December 8, 1937 says, " I hope some day to do something that will be worthy of merit from the greatest minds of the scientific world."

Other diary entries talk about building a radio and grinding the mirror for his telescope. He documents the hours and minutes he worked at the post office and the exact amount of each payroll check. He also talks about playing catch with a neighbor and listening to baseball and football games. I try to imagine him as an ordinary teenager with limitless possibilities before him instead of the narrow minded and stern father who wanted to control my thoughts.

This man patented a latch he invented, was one of the first to design a heat pump in the early 1950s, developed theories about electricity and gravity, and researched solar energy before it was popular. He was a whizz with a slide rule, but ordinary human interaction was beyond him.

More than anything this man wanted to be loved and appreciated even though he had little to give in return. By digging through the past, I hope to find a way to forgive and find compassion for this enigma who happens to be my father.

Coincidence or Providence

As I was hesitantly leaving my 93 year old father in the activity area of his rehab center recently, a women sitting outside her room in a wheel chair softly said, "He'll be OK." Drawn by her calm presence I walked toward her and she continued, "It is hard to leave, but he will be OK when you are gone." Looking for comfort in her soft, clear voice and pleasant smile I said, "I hope so." To which she replied, "Have a nice day." Relief washed over me.

I looked back over my shoulder as I turned the corner expecting her to have vanished like a spirit after delivering an uplifting message in a Hallmark movie. No, she still sat there looking my way and smiling.

Providence!?!

What was that you said?

I had lunch yesterday at the assisted living center with my 92 year old father and his 94 to 97 year old table mates. Due to hearing loss, conversation is at best difficult and sometimes rather amusing. One thread yesterday went something like this:

Dale asks Dan, "Did you come down for breakfast this morning?" and Dan replies, "I don't know, I just didn't feel quite right so I didn't stay for lunch yesterday." Marie enters the conversation with "Dan, were you too late for breakfast yesterday?" Then Roland adds, "she didn't bring me a soup spoon."

It is hard to think of things to talk about and even when I do the subject often derails because of the hearing issues. The most successful topic yesterday was a discussion about the time each person usually rises in the morning and what time they go to bed. Dan, who turns 97 on Saturday, likes to stay up late especially if he has a good book to read. Roland's lights are out by 8 pm.

I try to avoid some subjects such as politics because I am certain there would be little agreement. The weather and sports are safe. Sometimes a conversation takes an interesting turn and I learn a little piece of trivia or personal history.

I hope when I am 97 I still want to stay up late to finish a good book.

"Getting old isn't for sissies."

I am sitting with my 91 year old father in the urologists tiny examination room wedged between the large anatomically correct female poster on one side of the room and the male poster on the other. The doctor is more than an hour late and I've run out of things to read or talk about. 

This is our second doctor's appointment of the day. The first was at 9:30 am with the audiologist to take impressions for new hearing aides. Dad still has the one for the left ear, but can't remember where the he put the one for the right. He enjoys the attention he gets from Dr. Green as she prepares to take the impressions. We will have to schedule another appointment in two weeks to have the new hearing aides fitted, but I can't remember if he already has another doctor's appointment that week so I will have to call my sister before we can set the day and time.

The urologist finally comes in to tell Dad he will have to take two more weeks of pills to clear up his infection. This of course adds a trip to the pharmacy to our schedule and a followup appointment to our calendar. By the time we leave the medical clinic, it is close to noon and Dad wants to stop at Newport Bay for clam chowder before we shop for groceries and prescriptions.

One possible advantage of driving Dad is his handicap parking permit. Unfortunately there never seem to be any spots open so we go through the same routine at each stop. I pull up in front, put the car in park, set the brake and come around to the passenger side to boost him from his seat. He slowly creeps toward the door as I look for a parking spot. When we leave the procedure is played out in reverse. With two doctor's visits, lunch, the grocery store, and the pharmacy I make 10 trips around the car to either help him in or out. As the clock ticks away I'm thinking about his mountain of laundry to finish and his kitchen floor to mop.

By the time we get home it is nearly 2:00 pm. I put the groceries away and start a load of wash while my father settles into a chair in the living room for a nap. As I slip by his elevator chair at the bottom of the stairs, I think about how easy it is for me to take the stairs two at a time and how difficult it is for him just to get in and out of his chair.  I remember my mother saying an elderly friend told her once "getting old isn't for sissies." I understand now what she was talking about.