I can only describe activities in San Diego over the next few years as frenetic. The all-consuming pace of the San Diego / Mexico events caused most everything to run together in the sands of my memory so I have divided this section into separate subjects rather than chronological. I find it impossible to keep a precise timeline because the pace was so fast, the incidents so strange and some quite severe. I know very little of what happened in the other areas during this time; Grants Pass, Vancouver / Portland, Denver, etc. During this era I focus my observations strictly on the San Diego /Mexico events because that is what I personally witnessed.
I lived in San Diego, this time, until February of 1985. I had been ex-communicated and removed from the ABC in January 1984 by my father but I still lived and worked in San Diego. I had little contact with the ABC during that final year then left San Diego and moved back to the Puget Sound region.
FAMILY CHANGES
Not long after returning to San Diego; in February 1980; my grandmother, on my father's side, passed away. It was not unexpected as she had pancreatic cancer; but it was still difficult. I d
early loved her and, knowing she was so ill, I made an out of the way trip to her place on my move back to San Diego. I knew this would be the last time I would ever see her and it was heartbreaking to leave. It still feels like a great loss to me. Some of the best days of my life were spent with this grandmother in Seattle at her house. Her death was quite a blow to me as well as my father. Having been an only child my father had always been close to his mother and we visited often. We spent nearly every Thanksgiving or Christmas at her house as was growing up. She was an incredible person and I still miss very much.
About two years after my grandmother died my grandfather, on my father's side, also died. I was somewhat close to this grandfather but he was never a talkative man and I know very little about his life. He was kind, but not close in the same way my grandmother was. His death created a great deal of tension in the family because of "things". My father, worried other members of the family would swoop in and grab stuff from his apartment, had me accompany him on a mad dash to Kennewick to empty out the contents and drive it all back to San Diego in a U-Haul truck. I did not know then what we were doing was technically illegal since probate had not yet completed. It was rumored later, by my next older brother, we had taken things from the apartment pledged to him by my grandmother in her will. That may have been; I really don't know. I received nothing from my grandmother's things either and it all went to fill up my dad's home; the Casa Grande in San Diego. It had been rumored an account had been established for each of us three grandchildren by my grandmother, payable after my grandfather's passing, and this may be true as well, but my father was executor of the estate and refused to show any of us the will. No copy was ever filed with the county as the estate was relatively small. I moved on; it was just money and things, but these allegation by other family members I had been a party to this "theft" were simply not true. I had no personal stake in this trip and simply helped drive the truck back to San Diego at my father’s request.
My father, still in recovery from heart surgery during this trip to Kennewick, planned to drive my grandfather's car back to San Diego. He became so weak during the trip he was unable to finish the journey so we left him at an airport (I have forgotten in which city) and he flew back. A man named Don and I finished driving the car and truck back to San Diego. As an interesting side note to this journey; the truck given to us by U-Haul was ancient and decrepit and literally got two miles per gallon, or less. This meant we had to stop about every fifty miles for fuel. In central California on I-5 the exits are sometimes fifty miles apart which gave us some very tense moments during our journey, unsure we would make it to the next station. We documented the fuel guzzling with receipts and U-Haul did reimburse us for the extra fuel.
HEART DISEASE
During the holiday season of 1981 we went, as a group, to view the Christmas lights on a lane in Chula Vista. On this excursion, after walking just half a block from the van, my father became very winded so he went back to the van to wait for the rest of us to return. Insisting this was "just a cold" he said he felt like he maybe had "asthma". It turned out to be a faulty heart valve and congestive heart failure. He ignored this for a time but, when it got much worse, he had no choice but to seek medical help. He had avoided visiting the doctor because he lacked health insurance but, once he visited a cardiologist, and was tested, he was scheduled for an emergency valve replacement surgery and quadruple bypass. He was actually near death on that outing to see the lights. Someone, I do not know who, took up a special offering to cover the surgery costs.
I was not working at this time; since I had been injured on the job; and spent most of my days at the hospital until he was out of the woods. It was not clear whether he would survive the surgery; since it was so extensive; and for about five days two nurses monitored multiple IV lines that kept his heart rhythm stabilized. It was a grueling recovery and there was still a real concern he would not survive. He did survive and, directly afterward, changed his diet dramatically, lost weight, walked several miles each day and even joined a gym. These new habits eventually dropped away and his life returned to the same hectic schedule he had kept before the surgery. Once again began sneaking out for donuts, pastries and the like multiple times per day. The surgery saved his life, and gave him an extra five years to live, and he died on October 25, 1985 of a sudden heart attack in a Mexican Restaurant in San Diego. I know few details of the incident. It is my understanding he was eating out with David North and his wife when he suddenly complained of weakness. After this, he fell from the booth and was just gone. There were efforts to revive him by paramedics but they failed. No one ever called me from the ABC to let me know what happened.
I am convinced part of him was lost during this heart surgery. I have read about this extensively and am also acquainted with a doctor who specializes in the treatment of heart disease. This doctor helped move me beyond some major health problems of my own a few years ago; not heart related; and I still follow his plan for my heart and health nearly to the letter. This doctor stated it is well known in the medical community; although not widely publicized; small brain injuries occur during most heart surgeries. This is because of the plaques and fat globules that break free during surgery and strike the brain causing small strokes. These injuries can alter mood and temperament if the damage occurs in the frontal lobe. There were specific instances, after my father's surgery, I believe show this happened. My dad became much stronger physically, for a while, but there were things about him mentally that had transformed. He became much more emotional, but not everyone noticed this. I did. One of the last times we spent together; at a restaurant in Alpine California; he broke down sobbing in the middle of the restaurant. This was very unlike him. He felt he could no longer keep up the pace of the very thing he had created (the ABC) but also felt an obligation "for the people" to keep going. He talked about his death as if it were imminent and this was a good indicator he had become depressed. I didn't understand that at the time. The next time I saw him, after this incident, he was back to the mad dash that had defined his life. He also began to have frequent middle of the night sessions of extreme anxiety and would sometimes not sleep and pace the floor for hours. I discovered this when I spent a few nights at his house after my divorce. It was also soon after this restaurant encounter I would find myself disowned. I do not contribute the disowning itself to the changes after the surgery; it had happened too many times, to too many others over the years; but I do blame the vicious manner in which it was accomplished on these changes. At least I hope so.
RESIDENCE CHANGES
When I arrived in San Diego, the bus had been permanently parked at the San Ysidro RV park and a park model trailer had been purchased and moved in next to the bus giving my father, and Yvonne, plenty of extra space to live. This allowed my step-siblings; who were now teenagers; more room and privacy. Both the bus and trailer were parked just ten feet from the Interstate 5 freeway and the roar of traffic, even at night, was deafening. This was an unacceptable place for someone with serious heart disease to live so my father's doctor ordered a move away from the freeway...now!
The first move would be to a small apartment nearby in Chula Vista. This move to the apartment would be the first time, since 1973, my father had lived in regular housing. After this move David North took over use of the bus and trailer and my father never returned to living there.
The apartment, a small two bedroom, got my father into a quiet environment and it was here he returned from heart surgery. I picked him up at the hospital to bring him home and his first request was to get his hair cut. This we did. It was a rather unusual request because he had very little hair. The barber made a couple of small snips and he was done. I think this made him feel as though he could get back to normal life, and was actually a good moment between us; one of the few. He was still weak and needed help walking and this was another one of those very rare moments we had to just talk and be friends. It was odd for me because my father was never one that needed much help.
I don't recall exactly how long my father lived in the apartment but the move changed his outlook. He seemed to no longer desire life as an itinerant minister and just wanted to settle down. This was quite a change for him. I remember one time; when I was thirteen, and we had first moved to San Juan Island; we had gone together looking at an old small ferry he had seen an ad for in a "Little Nickel" style paper. His plan he related to me, on the drive to see it, would be to move a mobile home onto the car deck for instant living space then convert the passenger deck into a floating church. He wanted to then travel from island to island preaching. The ferry had no engine, was sitting next to the Puget Sound on dry ground tipped sideways, and would have cost a huge amount to bring back to usable shape. There was also the little problem of it needing an engine and a crew to actually run it. It was a fun idea for a day but he abandoned it as impossible once he actually saw the ferry.
Once my father recovered from surgery, he decided the apartment was too small. He also felt it was senseless to pay rent on an apartment and have two RV spaces as well. For the same cost he could purchase one large home. I was not involved in this search for a home but he eventually found a very large home in a rather nice neighborhood of Chula Vista. It was soon labeled "Casa Grande" because of its enormous size. It had, as I recall, four bedrooms, a huge den / family room and a very large living / dining room. A large kitchen sat in the middle of it all and in back was a huge patio with nicely landscaped yard. This house was sold years later, and they purchased another, even larger home, with an in-ground pool. I was not in the ABC at the time but saw that home when I returned for the funeral.
Not long after the move to Casa Grande, David North and his wife also moved into the Casa Grande and the trailer was then towed to the Alpine RV park in the mountains. The bus was moved into a storage lot and the ABC never used it again. I assume they eventually sold it.
In my next post I will detail the development of the Mexican Ministry and, in the following post, will cover a few of the anomalies it spawned.
NEXT POST
early loved her and, knowing she was so ill, I made an out of the way trip to her place on my move back to San Diego. I knew this would be the last time I would ever see her and it was heartbreaking to leave. It still feels like a great loss to me. Some of the best days of my life were spent with this grandmother in Seattle at her house. Her death was quite a blow to me as well as my father. Having been an only child my father had always been close to his mother and we visited often. We spent nearly every Thanksgiving or Christmas at her house as was growing up. She was an incredible person and I still miss very much. 
No comments:
Post a Comment