Paul Harvy and the Rest of the Story

I made it through the day, yesterday. God was good to me. I have asked for a sign and was given one. It was a personal struggle that needed a personal touch.

I was asked about the rest of my story. So I will fill in some blanks today. My PacNorWestern friend and her WDH are the funnest people to talk with and have some great family stories. They are wondering how my mid-west family ended up in a small farming town in the central valley. Here goes.

My mom lies. She tells everyone she is from Texas, but she isn't. She was born in Arkansas and was there for a few years before her family moved, eventually, to the Texas panhandle. She went to live with an Aunt and Uncle in a town called Fritch. You must look it up. My dad lived there, briefly, but mostly lived in Borger. That was where my parents met. My dad is 5 years older than my mom, and when he had been released from he Army Air Corp, he went back home and drove a bus between Fritch, Borger and Pampa. My mom would ride the bus so that he would get a chance to see her. It's not like you could miss her. She was a red head. Eventually, and because the only thing happening in the area, they went fishing at the lake and fell in love. My mom was very young. When they got married, she was 15 and my dad was 20.

They lived in Borger, where my dad was a musician by night and bus driver by day, and began married life. A year after they were married, they had a son. By this time, work had dried up and they were on the move and had temporarily moved from Texas to Arkansas and then back to Texas. Their son was born with Hydrocephalus. Allen lived less than a year and died in Arkansas, so the trip to back to the panhandle must have been sad. Mom and Dad moved to Amarillo where daddy could pick up jobs easier and still play music at night. In 1953, my oldest sister was born and followed by my middle sister in '55. The health of my oldest sister was a concern for my parents, so that is how my dad came to look for a job in the dust free areas of the west. If I recall, the doctor recommended Phoenix. So glad we didn't end up there!

When the family moved to California, it was a joyous reunion since I was born in Fairfiled CA, the town on the edge of Travis AFB a year later. My dad went to work on the flight line doing mechanical work on the planes. He learned to work electronics and soon became very good at his job. He still played music at night. My mom was a stay at home mom, something most moms were. We lived in Rockville and at Mankas Corner. I have some strange memories of that place. We moved into Fairfield by the time I was 3 and stayed there until I was nearly 11.

Mom took in laundry and ironing, as well as babysitting for several years. Daddy also opened a TV shop where he sold and repaired televisions. He loved doing that and took a leave from the base for a few years to do that. Unfortunately, his partner went to jail and he had to close up the shop and go back to the base. He worked with the flight simulators at the base and had become very accomplished. He learned to fly and got a private pilot license there. As the government is know to do, they transferred the simulator to Lemoore Naval Air Station to train the pilots there. This transfer was for a couple of years and this included personnel to help. Mom and Dad put the house up for rent and we all headed to Lemoore, with a pregnant cat, 2 horses, 2 dogs and a duck. Our first house was in Riverdale, where we stayed a total of  6 weeks before we moved into the house that Mom still lives in today.

Needless to say, but will anyway, the simulator stayed at Lemoore NAS, as did the Stucker family, and we settled in for good. Mom and Dad taught 3 girls how to run a tractor, cut and stack wood, dig irrigation ditches and drive stick shift cars. We mowed lawns, trimmed trees and acted like sons.

Mom still does those things, even though she fell off a short ladder and broke her leg a couple of years ago. She was changing the filter in the heater and lost her footing. My oldest sister helps her quite a bit, but my mom is hard working and will not be stopped. Her Arkansas/Texan blood runs thick and you just can't hold them down.

That, is the rest of the story.