In memorium

This isn't my favorite picture of my dad, but it shows my dad as he looked while I was growing up. William Lea George (Bill) passed away at 2:05 pm (Pacific Time) on February 10, 2009, in Bremerton, Washington. He passed away peacefully at the age of 62 after battling several chronic conditions.

Dad was a lover of the arts and was a very talented artist and pianist. He taught me to love opera, classical music, Impressionist art, photography, and everything beautiful in life. As a trombone player in high school, he played at Disneyland's grand re-opening and in the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena. His art teacher, Mr. Crutcher, brought in great cartoonists like Walter Lantz, Walt Disney, and Charles Schulz to meet his students. Dad even played the caliope at Disneyland once with Mr. Disney's permission.

Dad was an avid reader and his eyes sparkled as he told of practically growin up in his local library. He was a history buff and knew all those little odd facts they don't teach you in school. School was a challenge because he found it boring, but he managed to graduate, partly because his love of art and history classes kept him going. He was such a perfectionist with his own art that he often destroyed it to get rid of the flaws. I once added a few brush strokes of my own to a painting he was doing of me and he considered it unacceptable when he couldn't fix the coloring because the oil paints just kept mixing more and more on the canvas. He finally painted over it and painted a seascape on top.

When Dad was on his big photography kick, he taught me a lot about taking pictures and I used to help him in the darkroom. We used to develop slide film and print color prints using Cibachrome processing. Once the print was in the developing tube, we would put the chemicals in and roll it back and forth on the floor for the required time since we couldn't afford the drum to turn the tube. Dad would take the film from the canister and load it into the developing container while standing in his bedroom closet so he could have complete darkness. The garage was our darkroom.

Mom used to tell me that she couldn't believe a guy as good looking as Dad could be interested in her. He met her at an LDS youth dance. While they were dating, he even rode his bicycle through Watts during the riots to go see her. He was from South Gate and she was from Los Angeles. Dad was pretty handy - something he probably learned from his own dad, but was scared of electricity. It seemed like electricity would just jump out and get him every chance it had. Even changing the channel on the TV led to him getting shocked. For that reason, even though Dad built on to our original house, Mom did all the wiring.

From everything I observed, Dad was not the least bit domestic. I know he had to do some chores growing up, but he wasn't much for doing them as an adult. I'm not sure how he handled things during his mission to Norway, but he relied on his mom before that and my mom after that to take care of him. He went through alcohol treatment when I was in high school and I remember traveling up to the treatment center to show him how to do laundry in the machines there. I found it very funny at the time. Even though Dad could cook, he generally didn't. He had some gourmet cookbooks he looked through and then he would show Mom which ones he wanted her to cook. Because of the complexity of the recipes, we rarely ate dinner before 9:30 or 10 pm. Dad did try to show off one time and make albondagas soup. Unfortunately, he didn't notice the glass measuring cup he was using held 2 cups and he ended up with double the water in the soup. He was pretty hurt by the mistake.

Dad's injuries - He broke his leg trying to fix the antenna on our roof. He slipped and started to roll and hit a vent/pipe of some sort in an effort to not knock Mom over (she was pregnant with Bill at the time). While he was working for the sawmill, he tried to push a railroad tie along the greenchain and had another railroad tie pop out from the saw and smash his hand between the two ties. He was carried to the end of the greenchain and he pulled his hand out in time to avoid being part of the lumber pile at the end. They had to cut off his watch (he was mad about that) and they originally tried to save his crushed fingers. The reattached them, but the fingers started to die and caused a lot of pain, so he ended up losing two fingers on his right hand. The other two fingers were also injured and limited their movement. While laid up with that hand injury, he managed to injure himself again. We used the fireplace for heat and we needed to cut some wood. Mom couldn't quite get the chainsaw started (she was pregnant at the time), so Dad came out to help. He had his injured hand elevated, put his foot on the chainsaw to keep it from moving, and then used his good hand to pull the cord. At some point, the chainsaw jumped up and bounced off of his good arm, cutting ligaments and tendons inside. Mom rushed him to the hospital. He had surgery and was told he may never be able to use several of his fingers again. Once recovered, he worked hard to get those fingers working. I watched tears roll down his face as he forced the fingers back and forth. He got almost his entire range of motion back! The irony after all this was that worker's comp sent him for retraining since he could no longer work at the mill - they sent him to typing classes!!! He spent his recovery with both hands up in the air and had to have Mom feed him.

When Dad was first out of high school, he worked at the Alpha Beta grocery store while attending community college. Scheduling conflicts ended the job and the attempt at college. For awhile, he worked at a boat-building company in California and built boats for Bob Denver (Gilligan) as well as others. He did some boat building in Oregon, starting his own company, Bluefin Marine. He built 15 ft. fiberglass dories. The wooden mold for the boats used to sit outside collecting water and mosquito larvae (Kathy and I thought they were sea monkeys). When he brought the mold into the garage to do the fiberglass boats, the house stunk like crazy from the resin. Our friend Madeline used to love it when we made cookies while Dad was working on boats. She thought the "fiberglass cookies" tasted great. I think he only made a couple of boats. Dad moved up to Oregon before the rest of us did, finding a job at a sawmill and living out of his car most of the time until we joined him at the house in Bandon. His work at the sawmill ended with his accident. After some time with no work, he worked delivering propane around the area. He even delivered propane to Nick Reynolds, formerly with The Kingston Trio. I believe the propane job ended due to layoffs and never held another job while he lived in Oregon. After moving to Seattle, he attended the Art Institute of Seattle and later worked for a company doing graphic art for souvenirs, shirts, etc. He eventually filed for and was placed on disability, ending his working days.

Dad raised canaries as a boy and he really liked dogs. We had several dogs over the years, but several of them got away or were stolen and the final one, Dirk, we gave away so he would have a more attentive family. We raised chickens for a few years and had a decent supply of eggs. Our attempt at raising rabbits didn't seem to go well. Kathy and I liked dressing up the little bunnies in doll clothes, but we had one mama rabbit that always killed her babies. Dad got fed up one day and we suddenly had rabbit stew for dinner. I once received a cat (from the local shelter) for my birthday. Silver ended up being a mean cat and scratched everyone. We also took in a stray cat named Smoky. Dad was working swing shifts at the time and Mom would leave a plate with his dinner on the table. We made sure to put the cats out, but somehow Silver always found a way back in. She pooped in the bathtub and ate his dinner. One night, Dad couldn't take it anymore and took Silver outside, tossed her in the air, and shot her. Smoky must have seen because he disappeared that night as well. I always thought the cats had run away until Uncle Bob came for a visit and Dad told the story... Dad loved having fish and we had a very elaborate fish tank in California (and I think for awhile in Oregon too). I was told I used to get in trouble for coloring the the aquarium glass.

Dad always seemed to have health struggles. He had rheumatic fever as a child, but never managed to catch chicken pox. He had his first heart bypass when he was in his 30s. Problems with angina and congenitally small blood vessels forced them to pull what they needed from his thigh. He battled intense headaches that must have been migraines. He had bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder and struggled to comply with treatment for those. At one time, I remember he had a tackle box full of medications - for headaches, bipolar, angina, blood pressure, and who knows what else. His alcoholism started early in his life and led to many different problems with his relationships. He did try hard to kick it, going through at least three treatment programs during his life, but he could not overcome it. His motivation in going through the first program was the guilt he felt that Sharon, a pre-schooler at the time, was having to fend for herself since he was sleeping off his hangovers. Dad's smoking was so methodical that it was entertaining. He would be smoking one cigarette and have two more cigs out - one tucked behind each ear. If those were the last in the pack, he would make sure to open the new pack and get it set up so he wouldn't waste time when he needed a new one. I was silly enough a few times as a child to hid his cigarettes. We had one of those assemblies at school and I thought I was saving him. Instead, he sent Mom to the store for more cigarettes. I hid those too and was probably close to dying young when he found out. Until I moved away, I never realized how horrible we all must have smelled with smoke on our clothes.

Everyone (nearly) who met Dad seemed to be intrigued by him. He's a real charmer to talk to and has great stories to tell. I learned a lot from many of his stories even though Kathy and I worked hard to escape when he started lecturing. After his divorce, it seemed that Dad had trouble remember past events accurately. Since that time, I have realized that he probably was having a tough time determining reality in his past. Dad and I had several clashes over these differences in how he saw things. We butted heads even when I was young. Mom used to say it was because we were so much alike. Dad regularly threatened to send me away to a boarding school. Because of Dad's need for control, Kathy and I didn't have very many social opportunities. We only had one friend that was really allowed to come visit and it was hard to get permission to attend school sporting events and stuff. I didn't realize that I had missed out on learning certain social behaviors until I got married. I didn't know to invite people in, offer refreshments, make introductions, etc.

I know Dad adored his Nana and Grandad (from Austrailia) and we was somewhat traumatized by their passing. He was angry at the joyous way people approached funerals and felt hurt when they sang Nan's favorite song at the funeral. When his dad died, he wouldn't let us kids attend because he assumed we would be trumatized like he was.

I'll end this one here and probably add more memories later. There was a lot of good and gad in my dad, and I got to see them both. I think he just felt walled in and weighed down by his mistakes and could see no way out. It's good to look at all the sides of his life to understand how he ended up so alone and why he may have made the choices he did.