1956
I was always Daddy’s “little girl.” You showed me love in the only way you knew how, by spoiling me. Before my memory I used to ride on your shoulders and you’d tell me to duck under the doorways. Once I learned to walk I remember walking by your side holding your little finger to ground me to the world. You taught me how to water ski and eat the tops off the asparagus that grew in the garden. You took me for ice cream, burgers and hotdogs, our favorite foods. You called the riding lawn mower my first car and that got me to mow the lawn. Later you bought me cars and together we repaired them when needed. You stayed up to wait for me to come home from a date, even when I was late. You gave me away at my wedding and told my new husband with a smile not to bring me back. Yet I was always welcome home. You and I would have silly secrets that drove Mom crazy. (Crazier than she already is anyway.)
Ray Marvin Olmsted 1940s
I remember as a pre-teen hearing you only occasionally talk about being in North Africa during WWII and how you’d like to go back. As a teen I volunteered to go with you. But it never happened.
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2005 at Padre Island
My Dad passed away Friday February19th, 2010 about a week after a massive stroke. Ever since he had several small strokes in the last couple of years I’ve sort of felt like I lost the Dad I knew and that every visit was a gift. Yes, I am sad for myself and family yet I know he’s better off as there really was no quality of life left. Sure glad I got to see him once more on my recent trip to Texas.
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June 24, 1923 – February 19, 2010
There will be no official memorial; his body was donated to science. Yet I am taking my Dad’s memory to Africa, even if it it’s south and not north. We can both follow our dreams.
I was always Daddy’s “little girl.” You showed me love in the only way you knew how, by spoiling me. Before my memory I used to ride on your shoulders and you’d tell me to duck under the doorways. Once I learned to walk I remember walking by your side holding your little finger to ground me to the world. You taught me how to water ski and eat the tops off the asparagus that grew in the garden. You took me for ice cream, burgers and hotdogs, our favorite foods. You called the riding lawn mower my first car and that got me to mow the lawn. Later you bought me cars and together we repaired them when needed. You stayed up to wait for me to come home from a date, even when I was late. You gave me away at my wedding and told my new husband with a smile not to bring me back. Yet I was always welcome home. You and I would have silly secrets that drove Mom crazy. (Crazier than she already is anyway.)
Ray Marvin Olmsted 1940s
I remember as a pre-teen hearing you only occasionally talk about being in North Africa during WWII and how you’d like to go back. As a teen I volunteered to go with you. But it never happened.
.jpg)
2005 at Padre Island
My Dad passed away Friday February19th, 2010 about a week after a massive stroke. Ever since he had several small strokes in the last couple of years I’ve sort of felt like I lost the Dad I knew and that every visit was a gift. Yes, I am sad for myself and family yet I know he’s better off as there really was no quality of life left. Sure glad I got to see him once more on my recent trip to Texas.
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June 24, 1923 – February 19, 2010
There will be no official memorial; his body was donated to science. Yet I am taking my Dad’s memory to Africa, even if it it’s south and not north. We can both follow our dreams.
Because of you my life goes on. I will love you and treasure your memory forever. This trip’s for You!
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