Karen's Memories of Dad

When I was about seven or eight, Dad took me on a bike ride. As we were riding on a dirt path, I ran over a small paper sack. He told me not to run over sacks like that because they might have broken glass in them.

I remember him saying this to Mom when he was teaching her to drive:

“When you are turning left, and you are waiting for another car to go by so that you can turn, aim for their back bumper.”

Dad took me to enroll in school when I was about eight. It was, naturally, the middle of the year. When the Secretary asked what our address was, Dad couldn’t remember the house number, just the name of the street, which was South 48th. I said “It’s 1-2-3-1”. I remembered because of the pattern it made. Dad believed me, but I saw him check to make sure when we got home.

He worked on the Mexican Border Patrol for a while. I don't know how good he was at subduing drunk sailors with switchblades, but I like to think of him as being like James Bond. I think we still have some of the switchblades he confiscated.

At one point, we lived in the quonset huts at Hunter's point in San Francisco. Dad decided we needed to practice our fire drill, so in the middle of the day we got in our beds pretending to sleep. Dad rushed in saying, "I smell smoke, let's get out of here!" We all jumped out of bed and he helped us climb out of the window. It was great fun for us kids, but I am sure it was rather serious for Mom and Dad.

When I was in late fifth grade, or early sixth (before we had our sex education class in school), I asked Mom the question; “How do the sperm get to the eggs?” Mom answered “Go ask your Dad”. I am sure they had arranged this beforehand. We lived at 4850 Pico Street (San Diego) for those of you that remember the floor plan. I walked down the hall and met Dad at the end of the hall by he and Mom’s bedroom & asked my question. He told me all about it, and when he was done I said “OK”. He was cool about it.

I remember Dad taking us on an aircraft carrier for dinner, it must have been Christmas or Thanksgiving. There were rows and rows of tables in the mess hall, and I remember how high the ceiling was. We went to get our food, and Dad got a whole bunch of spinach, yech! I asked him how he could eat it, and he said that he didn't use to like it, but that he had eaten a lot of it in the Navy and had come to like it. I still think it tastes too salty.

Dad was stationed on submarines for a lot of the time. His two were the U.S.S. Ronquil and the U.S.S. Sea Devil. Rick and Mom got to go out on one of the subs for a whole day, but I was too young. However, our whole family got to go aboard on Thanksgiving one year, and Dad showed us where he slept (with a few torpedos!), where he worked (in a really small little room), and where he ate (mess hall). We got to look through the periscope, and that was fun.

Glen sent Karen some flowers from Hawaii, accompanied by this note.
(Click to enlarge.)

Dad was the Scout Master when we lived on Pico street. I begged him to take me on the campouts. Mom didn’t like to camp, so the most I ever got to do was to set the tent up in the backyard. I promised to do the cooking too, trying to persuade him to take me. But, rats, he couldn’t. Jack Rollins (who was a POW in Vietnam a couple of years later) was Dad’s Assistant Scout Master.

Dad liked having his feet tickled, and so do I. We would lay on the couch at opposite ends, and tickle each others feet. He would tickle mine where he wanted me to tickle his.

Dad taught recruits at NTC (Naval Training Center in San Diego). He had a small problem with swearing that he tried to control. He was so nice as a Drill Instructor that one of his recruit units got him a radio as a gift.

When Dad started teaching swimming at NTC, we would go often on Saturdays. I couldn’t swim and Dad was too tender hearted to force me to learn under his instruction. I learned to snorkel before I could swim. One day I got water in the snorkel and almost drowned in 4 ½ feet of water, so he had me take swimming lessons. He told me “do whatever the instructor tells you to do.” So I finally learned to swim. He would cook fried rice and Spam in the instructors' dressing room where us kids were also allowed to dress.

Mom was pregnant with Daisy when Dad was supposed to go on a short cruise on his submarine. Just before the sub was to leave, Mom went into labor and called him to ask him to come back to help her. He took the bus, and I remember seeing him come running home from between two houses, which was a short cut from the bus stop. This is my favorite memory of him because he was really concerned. That was also about the only time I remember seeing him run.

Dad went overseas (WestPac) at least two times that I remember. One of the times, a few months after Daisy was born, we all gave him going away presents. It was so funny because he opened up each package only to find that they were full of Vicks Cough Drops. Whether he actually used that many, or started a "black market" on the ship, I don't know!

When he came home, Daisy was seven or eight months old. She always got along best with men, but Dad had to bribe her with a packet of lifesavers before she would stop crying when he held her.

We traveled a lot, because we were in the Navy. We usually left at night because then we kids could sleep. We would also sing in the car along with the radio to help keep Dad awake. Que Sera Sera was one of our favorites.

After one of the times he had surgery, he was in the kitchen one day after I had left the cabinet open. He bumped his head right where he had his surgery, and it really hurt. He very calmly asked me to try to remember to keep the cupboards closed.

Another morning, he got out a couple of eggs to fry for his breakfast. As he was cracking the first, he dropped it. After he cleaned it up (and I seem to remember a few swear words), he got out another egg. He dropped that one too. We both looked at it on the floor, then Dad sat down and asked me to fry him a couple of eggs.

I remember Aunt Linda coming down to visit us when Dad was in the hospital. We slept in a tent in the back yard together, and she kept a piece of chewing gum in her mouth to help her throat stay moist.

At the time, Mom was spending a lot of time in the hospital with Dad, and he told her not to spend so much time with him, because she needed to be with her children. Dad’s emotions were very tender while he was ill. He often cried. I was embarrassed once and wanted to go home, that’s how sympathetic I was! Many people told me how cheerful and upbeat Dad was when they would go visit him. They would go to cheer him up and he would cheer them up. I remember Dad teasing his Doctor once. He was in the bathroom, and as he flushed the toilet he said “Goodbye cruel world.”

Dad had one dime while in the hospital. When he wanted to call home, he would let the phone ring once, and then hang up so he could get his dime back. When he did this, we would know to call him on the pay phone in his ward.

When Dad was retired and discharged from the Navy, we moved to Logan to be near his family. I don’t remember much about Dad while we were there. He was in SLC at the Veteran’s Hospital some of the time, maybe most of the time.

—Karen Dial Tibbitts