In Randalia, Fayette County, Iowa on June 14, 1911, (my father) Charles Lyle TAYLOR was born. Dad was the last of Charles Lewis and Agnes Ida (WOOLSEY) TAYLOR's children to grow to adulthood. The twins came after dad, but died just short of their first birthday.
Dad was staying with his brother LeRoy Silas (Silas LeRoy) in Long Beach, California when he met my mother. He said he loved her from the first time he laid eyes on her. He made a good choice. They were married in Long Beach, California on 23 April 1940. Shortly there after they moved to San Diego. They lived in an upstairs apartment on (9th &) Broadway while dad and mom built a house.
My father was an ambulance driver when I was just a very small child. He used to tell of one of the wildest rides he ever had. He was sent down to Tijuana, Mexico to pick up a Navy family that had been involved in a very serious automobile accident. He said that when he picked up the family's little boy, he all but cried. Said that he was just limp, and you could tell that he had multiple bone fractures. Said his clothes were soaked in blood. Said when they drove back to Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, with a police escort, when they went across 12th and Broadway, downtown San Diego, they were going 60 miles per hour with the sirens wide open. I don't recall if dad ever said whether the little boy lived or died.
Dad worked hard. For years he was a machinist. He worked at Rohr, and at Langley Corp., where he made fishing reels, and at Consolidated Aircraft. He held the position of lead man. At Rohr and Consolidated he made aircraft parts. He fabricated them from raw stock metal.
He was very determined to provide a living for mom and I. We weren't rich, but we never went hungry, or lived out on the street. We were rich with good health and love. Dad was a grocery store manager for many years and was a Lieutenant for Pinkerton when he was finally forced into retirement. Dad had circulatory problems. He had had a triple by-pass, a new aorta installed, a pace-maker, and a number of other major surguries in the last 15 years of his life.
Dad loved to fish. I can remember numerous times I went with him. Sometimes mom came with us. Sometimes we brought home "the catch." Other times we just brought home the fellowship of having spent a long and happy day out together. I'll treasure those memories forever. In later years mom was his fishing companion.
Dad was wore out. I don't think that in his last 10 years of life that there wasn't a day went by that he wasn't in pain. Somedays it was better and somedays it was worse - but it was always there.
On the night of February 26, 1990 he fell alseep for the night, never to hurt again as he expired just after midnight, on the morning of the 27th. I miss my dad, he was a special person.
I love and miss you.
Dad was staying with his brother LeRoy Silas (Silas LeRoy) in Long Beach, California when he met my mother. He said he loved her from the first time he laid eyes on her. He made a good choice. They were married in Long Beach, California on 23 April 1940. Shortly there after they moved to San Diego. They lived in an upstairs apartment on (9th &) Broadway while dad and mom built a house.
My father was an ambulance driver when I was just a very small child. He used to tell of one of the wildest rides he ever had. He was sent down to Tijuana, Mexico to pick up a Navy family that had been involved in a very serious automobile accident. He said that when he picked up the family's little boy, he all but cried. Said that he was just limp, and you could tell that he had multiple bone fractures. Said his clothes were soaked in blood. Said when they drove back to Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, with a police escort, when they went across 12th and Broadway, downtown San Diego, they were going 60 miles per hour with the sirens wide open. I don't recall if dad ever said whether the little boy lived or died.
Dad worked hard. For years he was a machinist. He worked at Rohr, and at Langley Corp., where he made fishing reels, and at Consolidated Aircraft. He held the position of lead man. At Rohr and Consolidated he made aircraft parts. He fabricated them from raw stock metal.
He was very determined to provide a living for mom and I. We weren't rich, but we never went hungry, or lived out on the street. We were rich with good health and love. Dad was a grocery store manager for many years and was a Lieutenant for Pinkerton when he was finally forced into retirement. Dad had circulatory problems. He had had a triple by-pass, a new aorta installed, a pace-maker, and a number of other major surguries in the last 15 years of his life.
Dad loved to fish. I can remember numerous times I went with him. Sometimes mom came with us. Sometimes we brought home "the catch." Other times we just brought home the fellowship of having spent a long and happy day out together. I'll treasure those memories forever. In later years mom was his fishing companion.
Dad was wore out. I don't think that in his last 10 years of life that there wasn't a day went by that he wasn't in pain. Somedays it was better and somedays it was worse - but it was always there.
On the night of February 26, 1990 he fell alseep for the night, never to hurt again as he expired just after midnight, on the morning of the 27th. I miss my dad, he was a special person.
I love and miss you.
In Randalia, Fayette County, Iowa on June 14, 1911, (my father) Charles Lyle TAYLOR was born. Dad was the last of Charles Lewis and Agnes Ida (WOOLSEY) TAYLOR's children to grow to adulthood. The twins came after dad, but died just short of their first birthday.
Dad was staying with his brother LeRoy Silas (Silas LeRoy) in Long Beach, California when he met my mother. He said he loved her from the first time he laid eyes on her. He made a good choice. They were married in Long Beach, California on 23 April 1940. Shortly there after they moved to San Diego. They lived in an upstairs apartment on (9th &) Broadway while dad and mom built a house.
My father was an ambulance driver when I was just a very small child. He used to tell of one of the wildest rides he ever had. He was sent down to Tijuana, Mexico to pick up a Navy family that had been involved in a very serious automobile accident. He said that when he picked up the family's little boy, he all but cried. Said that he was just limp, and you could tell that he had multiple bone fractures. Said his clothes were soaked in blood. Said when they drove back to Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, with a police escort, when they went across 12th and Broadway, downtown San Diego, they were going 60 miles per hour with the sirens wide open. I don't recall if dad ever said whether the little boy lived or died.
Dad worked hard. For years he was a machinist. He worked at Rohr, and at Langley Corp., where he made fishing reels, and at Consolidated Aircraft. He held the position of lead man. At Rohr and Consolidated he made aircraft parts. He fabricated them from raw stock metal.
He was very determined to provide a living for mom and I. We weren't rich, but we never went hungry, or lived out on the street. We were rich with good health and love. Dad was a grocery store manager for many years and was a Lieutenant for Pinkerton when he was finally forced into retirement. Dad had circulatory problems. He had had a triple by-pass, a new aorta installed, a pace-maker, and a number of other major surguries in the last 15 years of his life.
Dad loved to fish. I can remember numerous times I went with him. Sometimes mom came with us. Sometimes we brought home "the catch." Other times we just brought home the fellowship of having spent a long and happy day out together. I'll treasure those memories forever. In later years mom was his fishing companion.
Dad was wore out. I don't think that in his last 10 years of life that there wasn't a day went by that he wasn't in pain. Somedays it was better and somedays it was worse - but it was always there.
On the night of February 26, 1990 he fell alseep for the night, never to hurt again as he expired just after midnight, on the morning of the 27th. I miss my dad, he was a special person.
I love and miss you.
Dad was staying with his brother LeRoy Silas (Silas LeRoy) in Long Beach, California when he met my mother. He said he loved her from the first time he laid eyes on her. He made a good choice. They were married in Long Beach, California on 23 April 1940. Shortly there after they moved to San Diego. They lived in an upstairs apartment on (9th &) Broadway while dad and mom built a house.
My father was an ambulance driver when I was just a very small child. He used to tell of one of the wildest rides he ever had. He was sent down to Tijuana, Mexico to pick up a Navy family that had been involved in a very serious automobile accident. He said that when he picked up the family's little boy, he all but cried. Said that he was just limp, and you could tell that he had multiple bone fractures. Said his clothes were soaked in blood. Said when they drove back to Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, with a police escort, when they went across 12th and Broadway, downtown San Diego, they were going 60 miles per hour with the sirens wide open. I don't recall if dad ever said whether the little boy lived or died.
Dad worked hard. For years he was a machinist. He worked at Rohr, and at Langley Corp., where he made fishing reels, and at Consolidated Aircraft. He held the position of lead man. At Rohr and Consolidated he made aircraft parts. He fabricated them from raw stock metal.
He was very determined to provide a living for mom and I. We weren't rich, but we never went hungry, or lived out on the street. We were rich with good health and love. Dad was a grocery store manager for many years and was a Lieutenant for Pinkerton when he was finally forced into retirement. Dad had circulatory problems. He had had a triple by-pass, a new aorta installed, a pace-maker, and a number of other major surguries in the last 15 years of his life.
Dad loved to fish. I can remember numerous times I went with him. Sometimes mom came with us. Sometimes we brought home "the catch." Other times we just brought home the fellowship of having spent a long and happy day out together. I'll treasure those memories forever. In later years mom was his fishing companion.
Dad was wore out. I don't think that in his last 10 years of life that there wasn't a day went by that he wasn't in pain. Somedays it was better and somedays it was worse - but it was always there.
On the night of February 26, 1990 he fell alseep for the night, never to hurt again as he expired just after midnight, on the morning of the 27th. I miss my dad, he was a special person.
I love and miss you.
