Let me just start off by saying that my father was the most honest, hard working person I ever knew. He always supported me 100%, right up until Jan. 5, 2001, the day he died. It wasn't until after that day though, that I learned what a truly remarkable man he was. I had heard a story or two over the years, but never from him. He kept his past and present life very secret. In fact, we had no idea that he was in the CIA, until after he died and was awarded a plague by the Government.We knew that he worked for the Government, but he always told us that he worked at the Bureau of Standards, as part of the Government that was responsible for making the paper that money was printed on.
My father was a very quite man, he joked around a lot, but never really spoke much about his feelings, ideas or his life. It was just known that he was very intelligent and loved to work. I think the hardest time that I can remember was after his heart attack in 89'. He always wanted to be moving and working, but his quadruple bypass made it so, he had to pretty much stop everything. It was the first time I can remember seeing my dad show any emotions or negative thoughts. He just wanted to go out and work, even though he had been retired for years, he stayed active and had other jobs. Not to mention always working around the house, building and fixing everything. I do have to laugh though, it's not really funny, but my dad had a scar from his left foot, all the way up through his chest, where they took arteries and reconstructed his heart valves, and he would always go out in the yard in only a pair of shorts and a pair of shoes. He wasn't showing off, it was just the way he was. I came to learn that trauma was just part of my dad's life, starting at the age of 5, when his dad died(during the depression) and he had to go out and work to just make ends meet.
I pretty much knew my dad was in WWII, but he never discussed it. After his death, we got a call from the military saying they were preparing his plot at Arlington, but my dad had no interest in the Military. Don't get me wrong, he supported this country with every part of his life, but when it came down to it, he did his time and never looked back. Other friends of his had died and had Military funerals and it was just known that he had no interest in pursing a Military burial. So we thanked the gentlemen for the offer, but he was buried in the plot that my parents had bought in Fairfax.
A few months after his death we found his silver star, my mom knew about his bronze star, but it wasn't until we went to get them appraised that we found out he had a silver star too. The guy actually stated "Your husband wasn't just in the war..He was in HELL!!". I actually overheard one guy a long time ago trying to get my dad to open up about the war and when my dad told him what ship he was on, the guy replied "I thought that ship got destroyed" for which my dad replied, "I said I was on that ship, I didn't say I came back on it." To be honest, that is the only story I ever heard my dad talk about. I have since learn that he was almost captured in Guadalcanal after his ship was sunk and rescued by the Philippians. My father was in the Army, but went on 7-9 beach runs, it is a miracle he is still alive!! I've heard Navy guys say he was on more ships than they were.
The last few years of his life where the hardest, I don't know if time was catching up with him, or if it was just all the surgeries he had been through, but he used to love war movies and near the end he would just break down while watching them. I just remember my mom begging him not to watch, but he always did.
Another big part of my dad's life was music, in fact since I can remember, I have played just about every instrument, except horns. I just thought music was a part of growing up, I didn't understand that a lot of people don't know anything about it. To me, it was just like having a parent that speaks another language, naturally you learn that language as part of your upbringing. I learned that my dad was top of his class, one of 4 that is chosen to be privately trained.Even though he really only played bass, he was always the one to transcribe all the parts of the orchestra.
Back in the 60's, living in the D.C. area, my dad played a lot of Black Clubs, many times he would be the only white person in the club. He also worked in rescue at the time and during the riots after Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, he stayed in D.C. (even though they were telling him he should leave so he doesn't get killed) and helped take care of the wounded, but I digress. I've heard a lot of funny stories about my dad playing gigs. One of my earliest memories is being in the club and having the band argue about what instrument I would play. So I showed them, I can play almost anything now.
One story that has always stuck out, is a story about a Marine that use to come into this one club and raise hell. In fact he had been banned for 6 months, because the last time he was in there, he had tore the place up and hurt a few people. Well, my dad was playing the night the Marine was finally allowed to return and after the show, the Marine came up and put a penny at my dads feet. My dad quietly picked up the penny, walked back over to the Marine, set down the penny and said "I only know one animal that throws a scent" and then walked away. Everyone else in the place freaked out, one lady ran to my mom and asked her if she was with the bassist an explained everything, thinking that my dad was going to be in trouble, but the Marine did nothing.
My dad got to the point where he said "If music isn't fun anymore or becomes a "Job", I'm gonna quit" and that's what he did. He would get calls for years, but he never really played again. It was probably one of the most heartbreaking things I can remember, because years later whenever someone would ask him to play he would try and then breakdown crying. I must say though, about a year before he died, I had a basement studio and me and him actually jammed. I was on drums and he was on bass. it is probably one of the happiest and saddest times I can remember. It took a while for him to get through breaking down, but after that we did play for a while.
My dad wasn't a big man at all, but he was a powerhouse. I've heard about a time when he was hanging out with a couple firemen that were almost twice his size. They were joking around with him, asking him if he needed help carrying something or maybe it was somewhere along the lines of "you couldn't be a fireman, because you have to be able to carry someone out of a fire." With that my dad went over to the biggest guy, threw him over his shoulder and carried him out the door. Of coarse this left everyone astonished!! They quickly changed their tune. That was exactly how I remember my dad too. He never let on anything was wrong, he didn't complain or yell, but if you tested him, you would quickly learn that you had made a big mistake.
It has now been 11yrs. since he has died. Every year I learn new things that make me respect him more than ever before. The life he lead was a good one, he was the most helpful and honest man I knew. With hardships the would make most men buckle and give up. It makes me want to be a better person and live my life for him. I miss you everyday R.I.P. James Joseph Erving June 29,1919- Jan. 5, 2001.
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