Part 2: Transitions

“Life has a way of testing a person’s will, either by having nothing happen at all or having everything happen all at once.”

Paulo Coelho

After Frank left, Millie was unable to keep the household afloat, and needed help.  She called Mary, the Westfall’s close family friend and asked if they could stay with her for a while.  Mary had a three-bedroom house on the west side of Albuquerque, beyond the McKinley Junior High school district where my Dad attended school. “Oh, I was pissed.  I said I’m not moving, I’m not leaving my friends.  But I did, because I had no choice.” My Dad and Millie moved in with Mary, and her new beau, a man named Richard Bird.  “Yeah, Richard was an asshole.”  My Dad was beside himself.  He didn’t want to leave his friends and teams, but had no other options.  He enrolled at John Adams Junior High, and threw himself into sports once again.  “I just didn’t want to think about it.  I didn’t want to think about Frank leaving, me moving schools, I just wanted to forget about it.”  

They stayed with Mary for a few months, and eventually were able to move back into their own home, in the McKinley Junior High school district.  But they were still scrapping by.  One day at McKinley, one of my Dad’s teachers walked in and told him to come with her.  He immediately thought something happened to Millie, and was asking the teacher where they were going and if his Mom was alright.  She assured him that nothing happened to his Mom, and that they were going on a trip.  Mrs. Heitman took my Dad to the local thrift store, and told my Dad they were going to buy him some clothes, underwear, shoes, and socks.  “I stopped cold.  I knew right then and there we were poor.  This was more than just being on food stamps.  I was embarrassed.  I went out the next day and asked my neighbors if I could work for them doing yard work, and odd jobs, because I couldn’t stand that feeling.  I didn’t want that to happen again.”  

I’ve seen this work ethic in my Dad in a lot of ways throughout my life. I saw it when my sister was in a tight spot: she needed a new bedframe, and was stressed about the cost and logistics. My Dad responded with, “I’ll just build you one.”  I watched him build my sister a bedframe from reclaimed wood in his garage as he blasted Jimi Hendrix on vinyl.  My Dad is a retired painter (interior and exterior), he has accrued forty plus years of patience through literally watching paint dry. He’s instilled in me a mentality that if you’re going to do spend time doing something, take the time to do it right.  

He coached a lot of my sports teams growing up, and I have one specific memory when he was coaching my softball team.  I was pitching, and I was absolutely tanking.  I was upset, and wanted to be pulled.  I asked to be pulled and have a reliever come in for me. My Dad’s response? “No.” I was floored. I snappily reminded him how poorly I was doing out there, and close to tears, I said it was hard.  His response? “I know.  That’s why I’m not pulling you.  You have to learn to work through it.”  I was pissed, and basically stomped back out on the mound.  I managed to salvage some semblance of dignity and finished out the game.  I can’t remember who we were playing, or what summer it was, but I remember getting my first taste of playing the cards you are dealt, and working with what you have.

I digress. My Dad was elated to be back at McKinley Junior High. Although he didn’t really enjoy school, he missed his friends.  He reflects fondly on his baseball and football coaches when he was in junior high, and they left a lasting impact on him. Despite these connections, “the pain” still festered.  He began fighting in school, and he started by fighting the Mexican kids.  “I’d get pissed because the pachucos would kick the shit out of the Indians.  Oh, it would make me so mad.  Those Indian kids reminded me of the boys I would play with when Mary took me to the Indian School.  They accepted me, and then to see Indians get picked on and get the shit kicked out of them…”  

During this time, Richard (my Dad’s brother) was drafted into the Vietnam War, and was told he needed to report to Fort Hood for basic training.  My Dad begged him not to go.  Richard had to leave, and the isolation my Dad experienced continue to grow.  He poured more energy into baseball, and got a part time job at A&W when he was a sophomore in high school.  I asked him how he handled all of this: the trauma, and how that affected him. Frank leaving, moving across town, moving back, Richard leaving… “You just keep going, I don’t know.  What else was I going to do?  I didn’t have any other choice but to just keep going.  I had baseball, I had Mom, I wasn’t living on the west side of Albuquerque anymore, I had my friends. I lived for baseball, and I really wasn’t home a lot.  I started at A&W and played sports, that was my life.” 

Then, at A&W, he met Sandy (Author’s note: this is not the Sandy featured in the above photograph).  “Sandy was so great.  We really hit it off when we first met.  I felt like I could actually really be myself around her.  She was amazing.”  Sandy was the first girl he had romantic feelings for, and my Dad’s first kiss.  They became close, and she was my Dad’s first girlfriend.  Sandy rode horses, and one day asked my Dad if he wanted to go riding with her after school.  My Dad declined, he had baseball practice that afternoon.  After practice, a friend of my Dad’s came up to him, and asked if he had heard what happened to Sandy.  My Dad carefully said, “No… and then he told me that she was in a horse-riding accident, and she died.  I don’t even remember what happened after that moment.  I just took off running.  I ran so hard up into the foothills.  I really don’t remember how long I was up there, or the days after. The funeral was horrible.  I don’t really remember a lot of the time after that. It’s… it’s completely blocked out for me.”  I didn’t push any further.  

Before my Dad’s junior year of high school, Millie told him they were moving.  Millie had been married to a man named Forrest O’Dell before meeting Frank Westfall, and he came to visit them in New Mexico.  Forrest had promised a better life for them in Toledo, Ohio. Millie accepted. My Dad was not having it.  My Dad was reluctant to move across the city, let alone move across the country to a state he had never stepped foot in.  Coach Dixon, my Dad’s baseball coach, asked Millie if she would consider letting my Dad live with him and his family, so my Dad could finish out his high school career in Albuquerque.  He offered to take care of him, make sure he kept his grades, and would provide a stable home for him.  Millie said no.  “Forrest came and got us with his truck, and loaded up our stuff, and we moved to Toledo.”