Memories of my dad do not span a very long interval. He figured prominently in my early childhood, of course, because of his love, strength and affection. As a teen, I was able to appreciate his intelligence and idealism, while watching it disappear as alcoholism began to rule his life and hurt his family. It has been two decades since his death and I now understand what drove him to drink and the gentle spirit that was crushed. I do not blame him for his disease, only the circumstances and his weakness, which was an inability to confront the antagonist.
Dad was the son of hardworking Polish immigrants and he aimed high. Smart, charming and ambitious, he attended college and (at his fiancee's request) aspired to eliminate the foreign accent in his articulate speech. After serving as a Marine in World War II, he got a job, married and began a family. Promotions came quickly, as did the children, and soon a relocation from Michigan to Missouri. He had wanted to be a physician but settled for a career in pharmaceutical sales; he had wanted one child but was accorded seven. He loved toddlers but struggled with teenagers. Throughout his life, Dad strived for perfection, whether in his hobbies of woodworking and gardening or in his knowledge of birds, animals and biology. And that pursuit, I believe was his legacy to his children.c. 1950 with first child
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