On April 17, 1910, my grandfather wrote in his pocket calendar book "Baby boy born today." My father once showed me that early day planner, and pointed out the notation with tears in his eyes. The baby boy born that day was subsequently named George N. Marshall, and he was my father.
My dad had to drop out of college in 1929, because of the great depression. He was always good with numbers, though, and managed to talk a local bank into hiring him as a teller. The pay was low, but it kept him alive. He worked his way up at the bank, and in 1936 was financially stable enough to marry my mother. They lived in a little rented house built by my grandfather. I was born in 1939. When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, dad tried to enlist, but was rejected for a heart problem. He and my mom both worked hard during the war, and bought war bonds whenever they had a little spare cash. My uncle, my dad's brother, did go into the army and was an officer in the Corps of Engineers.
Following the war, my parents bought one of the little houses that seemed to spring up in new subdivisions everywhere. They always said they were lucky to get it because the demand was so high. Dad had become an officer with Phoenix's Valley National Bank, and was well known in the then-small community. He and I could stroll down the streets in Phoenix and say "Hi" to just about every other person on the street.
It was my dad who first taught me to shoot, and shoot safely. Some of my fondest memories are of us going out to the desert to do target practice, first with a .22 rifle, and later with the two guns shown below; the 6-inch model 28 was mine, and the 4-inch was his.
Dad was an enthusiastic Freemason and achieved the 33rd degree, the highest in the craft. He became a master in his lodge and also participated in Shrine activities. As he was born in Kentucky, he became a Kentucky Colonel, and was so well respected in that group that the local chapter was named for him in his lifetime.
In 1966, he retired from the bank as its assistant comptroller, and he and my mom bought the home of their dreams, overlooking Paradise Valley on the north side of Camelback Mountain, a Phoenix landmark. Dad became a private investor and with his money skills, built a sizable nest egg. Besides financing my college education, my parents also put money aside for each of my four daughters to help them with their college expenses. They were both totally unselfish people, spent little on themselves, but were always willing to help out when things got tight for anyone in the family.
Dad died of heart failure at the age of 77 in 1987. I cared for my mother from that time on until her death at the age 0f 95 in 2008.
April 17, 2010 will mark the 100th anniversary of my father's birth. One thing I know I will do will be to mark my day planner with the notation "Baby boy born today - 100 years ago." However, I am looking for other ways to celebrate that special anniversary. Our family is now scattered to the four winds, but I was thinking of having a graveside ceremony of some sort, with all invited. My dad was special to me, and I want to do something that would be a worthy commemoration. Any ideas?
John
My dad had to drop out of college in 1929, because of the great depression. He was always good with numbers, though, and managed to talk a local bank into hiring him as a teller. The pay was low, but it kept him alive. He worked his way up at the bank, and in 1936 was financially stable enough to marry my mother. They lived in a little rented house built by my grandfather. I was born in 1939. When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, dad tried to enlist, but was rejected for a heart problem. He and my mom both worked hard during the war, and bought war bonds whenever they had a little spare cash. My uncle, my dad's brother, did go into the army and was an officer in the Corps of Engineers.
Following the war, my parents bought one of the little houses that seemed to spring up in new subdivisions everywhere. They always said they were lucky to get it because the demand was so high. Dad had become an officer with Phoenix's Valley National Bank, and was well known in the then-small community. He and I could stroll down the streets in Phoenix and say "Hi" to just about every other person on the street.
It was my dad who first taught me to shoot, and shoot safely. Some of my fondest memories are of us going out to the desert to do target practice, first with a .22 rifle, and later with the two guns shown below; the 6-inch model 28 was mine, and the 4-inch was his.
Dad was an enthusiastic Freemason and achieved the 33rd degree, the highest in the craft. He became a master in his lodge and also participated in Shrine activities. As he was born in Kentucky, he became a Kentucky Colonel, and was so well respected in that group that the local chapter was named for him in his lifetime.
In 1966, he retired from the bank as its assistant comptroller, and he and my mom bought the home of their dreams, overlooking Paradise Valley on the north side of Camelback Mountain, a Phoenix landmark. Dad became a private investor and with his money skills, built a sizable nest egg. Besides financing my college education, my parents also put money aside for each of my four daughters to help them with their college expenses. They were both totally unselfish people, spent little on themselves, but were always willing to help out when things got tight for anyone in the family.
Dad died of heart failure at the age of 77 in 1987. I cared for my mother from that time on until her death at the age 0f 95 in 2008.
April 17, 2010 will mark the 100th anniversary of my father's birth. One thing I know I will do will be to mark my day planner with the notation "Baby boy born today - 100 years ago." However, I am looking for other ways to celebrate that special anniversary. Our family is now scattered to the four winds, but I was thinking of having a graveside ceremony of some sort, with all invited. My dad was special to me, and I want to do something that would be a worthy commemoration. Any ideas?
John
