My dad, with the expressed encouragement of his mother became a minister. He went to a small college in Iowa, Grinnell. He then proceeded to and graduated from Chicago University's Theological Seminary.

He was ordained into the ministry in a small church in Glen Ullin, North Dakota. He was made an assistant minister in Java, South Dakota. Mom was teaching in Java when they met and married. After that he held ministerial positions in New Hampton, Iowa and Sherril, Iowa. There, he was instrumental in building a new church for what was the oldest German Congregational church in the U.S.

Later, he became the minister in a church in Walla Walla, Washington. This was when I came aboard. I never did hear whether I was a mistake or a last desperate attempt to have a daughter. I had two brothers who were 12 and 10 years older than I was.

From there Pop went to two churches in Colorado, Brush and Windsor. At some time they came out to the Alaska Pacific Fair. At that point Pop decided that Seattle would be a great place to live. When the opening occurred at the church in Seattle he made sure that it would be his.

We moved to Seattle in October of 1919. I was not quite 2½ years old at that time. Pop was the minister there for a little over 35 years. We went through the worst part of the depression. There wasn't much in the way of money but we always had a comfortable home, the parsonage. At some point Pop had conducted the marriage of a butcher who must have been happy with his wife. So, meat was cheap.

My wife and I were married in August of 1939. We then established our own home. Sixteen years later, Mom and Pop returned from a church convention somewhere in the middle west. They were called to a church meeting and were told that Pop was fired.

This was at just the time when ministers were to be allowed to get Social Security. Mom offered to pay his salary for six months if they would only allow him to remain as an assistant minister. The answer was an adamant no.

As it occurred, the church in Missoula, Montana where his replacement was coming from now needed a minister. Pop went to Missoula, where the minister had been trying for years to build a new church. At that point Pop was 81 years old. He stayed at Missoula long enough to build a nice new church.

Since he was now eligible for Social Security he came back and retired in north Seattle just 4 doors from where my family and I lived.

The last few years Pop became a little fuzzy. I had to take his car keys away from him, which was tough for both of us. Then he would go for long walks in the mornings. Mom pinned a note to the back of his jacket with his name, address and phone number. Many nice people brought him home. Or, I went quite a distance to retrieve him. One time it was at least fives miles from home.

One day Mom called to tell me she was worried because Pop hadn't returned. As I started to go to look for him I noticed what looked to be a pile of clothing in the front yard. It was Pop. Apparently he was coming down some concrete steps and must have lost his balance, fell, wounding his forehead.

He was unconscious. I picked him up and carried him into his bed. We immediately called the ambulance to take him to the hospital. He spent about a month in the hospital, the last few months were in a nursing home. He then passed away in September of 1966.

He was a far better man that I am. He forgave the people who treated him as they did. I never have.