In the Beginning…
I’m starting a new blog here at JVH reflections. I have no special agenda, and hope to bring some fun and excitement to all our lives. If you disagree, let me know, if you agree, let me know.
JVH
History
They, whoever ‘they’ are, say that your personality is formed very early in life. My folks are from the Ozarks in Missouri. They left for California on December 6, 1941. My dad told me if they had waited one more day, they never would have come.
My mother was a school teacher. She was that teacher that all the kids hated when they were in her class, but a decade later said she was the best teacher they ever had. She graduated from a teacher’s college in Missouri but continued her education at the University of California and ended up after 20 years of night school with her master’s degree. If she was to be described in one phrase it would be “one tough cookie.” After she retired, she stayed on as a ‘master teacher,” guiding young teachers in their craft. She passed away in her 90s. We aren’t sure just how old she was, but that’s a story for another time.
My father was a true renaissance man. He was a craftsman printer. The craft he learned wasn’t that much different than Gutenberg invented 500 years ago. He operated a linotype machine, set type by hand, but was also the editor of a small town weekly newspaper. He wrote a column that he composed directly on the linotype. However he wasn’t ‘stuck’ in the 1400s. When offset printing was invented he embraced it and moved his print shop and his newspaper into the 20th century. I found out later in his life that he never graduated from high school. He has quit school and gone to work to support his brother into college. But that didn’t slow him down. A voracious reader, he was the most educated man I have ever known. He died in his 80’s but the doctor told him he would live to the century mark, if he could just quit smoking. Another story for another time.
I was a spoiled only child. My folks didn’t ‘spare the rod’ but they also took care of their only son. I was allowed a lot of freedom, probably more than if I had been born 20 years later. The small town I grew up in was as safe as could be. Everyone knew everyone. You could still get into trouble but your folks knew about it before you got home. I was a good student in high school, my father saw to that. I was never good in languages, and he worked nightly with me on my French lessons. It turned out he learned the language in more depth than I. I played the trumpet in the high school band, and played at the piano. Technically is was “ok” but had no real talent. I graduated number 2 in my class and in those days that was good enough to get you into the University of California. I went to UCLA. That, too, is a story to be told later.
History
They, whoever ‘they’ are, say that your personality is formed very early in life. My folks are from the Ozarks in Missouri. They left for California on December 6, 1941. My dad told me if they had waited one more day, they never would have come.
My mother was a school teacher. She was that teacher that all the kids hated when they were in her class, but a decade later said she was the best teacher they ever had. She graduated from a teacher’s college in Missouri but continued her education at the University of California and ended up after 20 years of night school with her master’s degree. If she was to be described in one phrase it would be “one tough cookie.” After she retired, she stayed on as a ‘master teacher,” guiding young teachers in their craft. She passed away in her 90s. We aren’t sure just how old she was, but that’s a story for another time.
My father was a true renaissance man. He was a craftsman printer. The craft he learned wasn’t that much different than Gutenberg invented 500 years ago. He operated a linotype machine, set type by hand, but was also the editor of a small town weekly newspaper. He wrote a column that he composed directly on the linotype. However he wasn’t ‘stuck’ in the 1400s. When offset printing was invented he embraced it and moved his print shop and his newspaper into the 20th century. I found out later in his life that he never graduated from high school. He has quit school and gone to work to support his brother into college. But that didn’t slow him down. A voracious reader, he was the most educated man I have ever known. He died in his 80’s but the doctor told him he would live to the century mark, if he could just quit smoking. Another story for another time.
I was a spoiled only child. My folks didn’t ‘spare the rod’ but they also took care of their only son. I was allowed a lot of freedom, probably more than if I had been born 20 years later. The small town I grew up in was as safe as could be. Everyone knew everyone. You could still get into trouble but your folks knew about it before you got home. I was a good student in high school, my father saw to that. I was never good in languages, and he worked nightly with me on my French lessons. It turned out he learned the language in more depth than I. I played the trumpet in the high school band, and played at the piano. Technically is was “ok” but had no real talent. I graduated number 2 in my class and in those days that was good enough to get you into the University of California. I went to UCLA. That, too, is a story to be told later.
They, whoever ‘they’ are, say that your personality is formed very early in life. My folks are from the Ozarks in Missouri. They left for California on December 6, 1941. My dad told me if they had waited one more day, they never would have come.
My mother was a school teacher. She was that teacher that all the kids hated when they were in her class, but a decade later said she was the best teacher they ever had. She graduated from a teacher’s college in Missouri but continued her education at the University of California and ended up after 20 years of night school with her master’s degree. If she was to be described in one phrase it would be “one tough cookie.” After she retired, she stayed on as a ‘master teacher,” guiding young teachers in their craft. She passed away in her 90s. We aren’t sure just how old she was, but that’s a story for another time.
My father was a true renaissance man. He was a craftsman printer. The craft he learned wasn’t that much different than Gutenberg invented 500 years ago. He operated a linotype machine, set type by hand, but was also the editor of a small town weekly newspaper. He wrote a column that he composed directly on the linotype. However he wasn’t ‘stuck’ in the 1400s. When offset printing was invented he embraced it and moved his print shop and his newspaper into the 20th century. I found out later in his life that he never graduated from high school. He has quit school and gone to work to support his brother into college. But that didn’t slow him down. A voracious reader, he was the most educated man I have ever known. He died in his 80’s but the doctor told him he would live to the century mark, if he could just quit smoking. Another story for another time.
I was a spoiled only child. My folks didn’t ‘spare the rod’ but they also took care of their only son. I was allowed a lot of freedom, probably more than if I had been born 20 years later. The small town I grew up in was as safe as could be. Everyone knew everyone. You could still get into trouble but your folks knew about it before you got home. I was a good student in high school, my father saw to that. I was never good in languages, and he worked nightly with me on my French lessons. It turned out he learned the language in more depth than I. I played the trumpet in the high school band, and played at the piano. Technically is was “ok” but had no real talent. I graduated number 2 in my class and in those days that was good enough to get you into the University of California. I went to UCLA. That, too, is a story to be told later.
It was the time of the Vietnam War. I joined the ROTC to ensure I wouldn’t be drafted but also ensured that I would go directly into service upon graduation. I was in the army intelligence corps. We were trained to be intelligence advisors to army of Vietnam battalions. We were all going to Vietnam so that was accepted. However we had to go to 26 weeks of language training to learn Vietnamese. Remember my French experience. Languages were not my forte. When we met with the personnel folks a few weeks before we were going to be shipped off to language school, I went to the officer in charge and told him I was not afraid to go to Vietnam, but I was a waste of the Army’s time and money to send to language school. He wrote my name down and smiled. I forgot about the conversation and prepared for my travels to language school. A couple of weeks before I was to leave for Ft. Bliss Texas, I received orders assigning me to a National Security Agency operation in Okinawa. I never did see Vietnam. I tell you this story because it had a profound impact on my future. It taught me that you could affect your life, but you needed to take action and find the person who could make a difference.
I was married just out of college and Ginger and I had two sons. Fine young men, but little credit to me. We divorced after 10 years. I married again on the rebound and Sean and I lasted a year. We parted friends. I met Robyn but we ‘courted’ for five years before getting married. This one lasted. We will be married 38 years in 2025. She has the patience of Job.
I took over the newspaper business from my father and proceeded to bankrupt it. We sold it in the nick of time and I came to the big city to make my fortune. Ha. I ended up running the sales department for a manufacturer of parking revenue control equipment. I was there for 17 years but you never get the newspaper business out of your blood. I gave my boss a year’s notice and begin the plans for Parking Today. 27 years later I got sick. I didn’t realize it at the time but 2022-23-24 were difficult times health wise. Covid, afib, heart valve replacement, torn esophagus, and somewhere in there a hospital induced infection. Damn, I was in the hospital five times. I realized that I needed to focus on my health and that PT was suffering. I sold it just as my back went out. Another stent in the hospital.
In my so called retirement, I plan to write more detective stories, hopefully do a better job, and blog. I have a lot to say about just about everything. My dad left me with one thing. If your work is your avocation as well as your vocation, bridge and golf won’t hack it in retirement. Let’s see what I can write about over the next 20 years.
JVH