September 16-20, 1972: A Trip to North Carolina
	July 15: At the Top of the John Hancock Building
	Return to Index for 1972

It had been an eventful year for me, what with my leaving the Army, moving to Chicago, getting a new apartment, and starting a new job, but by the middle of July, I was settled in to a new "routine"- a 9-to-5 job at the bank and weekends with friends. It was just after the middle of that month that my Dad called to tell me that he and Mom would be driving through Chicago in August and would like to stop to see me.

I was happy about that, and I knew that my Dad would love to see Chicago again. I also wanted to show him what my life was like here in the big city. In subsequent days, my parents shared more of their trip plans, and it became apparent to me that this would be the biggest road trip they'd been on since our trips to Florida back in the late 1950s.

They would be leaving Charlotte in late July and first driving up to Burlington to see my sister and her husband. They go there fairly often, and so I was a bit curious about why they would work that side trip into their "grand circle", as they would have to backtrack through Charlotte on their way to Atlanta to my Dad's brother's house. Ralph and Jane have been in Atlanta for a long time, and our family has visited there a few times.

From Atlanta they planned to work their way north to Chicago to spend two days with me and then they would drive around the south end of Lake Michigan and up to Muskegon (my birthplace) to see my Dad's only sister, my Aunt Marguerite. From Muskegon, they would drive over to Chicago to visit my Dad's other brother Bud, and his wife Evelyn. After a visit there, they would head home to Charlotte.

Even as my parents told me of their plans, it struck me that my Dad would, in a single trip, visit each of his children and each of his brothers and sisters. All of his immediate family. I thought this interesting, but not especially significant.

So they started out and, sure enough, in the first week of August arrived in Chicago to stay two nights with me in my apartment on Barry Street. I took them around downtown and the area where I lived, and we made a return trip to the Observatory at the top of the John Hancock Center. (I recall vividly that whenever my Dad got close to the windows, he always had his hand on one of the diagonal beams that ran inside the glass. Working in an architectural firm, I thought that he, as much as anyone, would know that the building was solid, but maybe he had a mild fear of heights that I hadn't known about!) It was a weekend, so I could only take them by the Bank so they could see where I worked.

We had a great time, and on Monday morning they head off to Muskegon and I headed off to work. They called from my Aunt Marguerite's house, and told me they were having a great time there and that they'd be going to Detroit the next day.

What happened next, I only know from the accounts of my Mother and my Uncle Bud, who called me on that Thursday afternoon. My Mom and Dad had arrived at my Uncle's house just before lunchtime, and they had a couple hours' visit and a bit of lunch before my Dad went out to the car to bring in their luggage. It's unclear whether my Mom or my uncle was with him when he went out to the car, but, apparently, when my Dad leaned into the car to get something he had a massive stroke and keeled over. He was taken to the hospital and my Mom called Judy and myself. The Bank let me take time off immediately, and my sister flew to Detroit from North Carolina. I drove over and arrived the next day, about when my sister did. We both arrived before our Dad passed away, although he never regained consciousness.

Surely you've appreciated the oddness of it all. No sooner had my Dad spent an hour with his brother, at the end of a single continuous trip during which he'd visited each of his immediate family members, than he died. I can't help but wonder whether he knew something; the coincidence seems too "neat". But none of us will every know.

Services for my Dad were held in Charlotte the next week, and as I recall my sister drove my Mom home in Dad's car (my Mom didn't have a drivers license). I returned to Chicago and took a plane home. By the third week in August it was over, and I returned to Chicago. After talking with my managers at the Bank, I planned to take my actual week of vacation in late September so I could see how my Mom was doing, and that is just what I did.

The album page for that trip home in September is one of the album pages for this year, but I want to use the opportunity in this diary note to record the thoughts I wrote down when that trip was over.

I had mixed feelings, leaving home to return to Chicago that Fall. Behind me I left a Mother considerably stronger than I had expected, and a family considerably more cohesive than I had supposed. Ahead lay a start at the University of Chicago in October to work towards an MBA degree. Ahead, too, lay my job, and what I could make of that. A lot happened during the Summer, and it was a catharsis. I looked forward to a routine, as the Eastern jet came in over Chicago. I am sorry now, and I know I will be even more so as the future unfolds, that my Father will not see whatever it is that may happen to me. I know that he to a great extent lived a second life through my own (without becoming domineering). I know he took great interest in all that happened to me in Korea and in the Army. I was apparently getting the chance to do things that he had not had the chance to do, and to live these experiences through my own eyes was the next best thing.

When he and Mother visited in Chicago, the week before he died, I could tell two things. First, he was genuinely proud of what I had done so far, even though that was not much. Second, he knew that he was not going to see much more of what happened to me. Of that last part I am totally convinced. Looking back on it, I now know that when he said "Good-bye" and drove off with Mother to Muskegon, I was not to see him alive again. I recall distinctly the feeling I had that morning. If he had not died, perhaps I would have completely forgotten about it. But that is what did happen. My Dad will not get to read the future narratives that I may write, nor will he get to see what might happen to me in the future. I wish he could.

Please use the link below to return to the Index for 1972.

	September 16-20, 1972: A Trip to North Carolina
	July 15: At the Top of the John Hancock Building
	Return to Index for 1972