Beyond A Flood And A War 2l1m20

Beyond A Flood AND A War

BOB ROSS

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Published by AuthorHouse 01/02/2020

ISBN: 978-1-7283-4157-6 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-7283-4156-9 (e)

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Contents

Part One

1937 Flood The Family Moving on in 1946

Part Two

New Mexico Fort Wayne Canton, Ohio Boston Lakeland Bloomington Tampa Operations Shirley

Family Matters Retirement Duffey and the FBI Back in Tampa

Part Three

Sarasota Millennium 2006: A Busy Year Duffey Indianapolis September 2017 Birthday Dinner at Ruth’s Chris Restaurant The Big Cookout Cake and Ice Cream at Pat’s House

Part One

1937 Flood

T he winter of 1936–1937 was cold and snowy until the end of December. It was not a typical “January thaw.” This was different. Weeks of heavy rain washed the snow away, and water rushed across the frozen ground into the Ohio River. Because the entire Ohio Valley was experiencing the same situation, the river banks could not contain the deluge. The level of concern among my parents and other adults told me that something serious was about to happen. One of those showing such concern was my grandfather, who was in charge of city crews responsible for flood preparations. He lived in an area of Lawrenceburg that was protected by a levee built to withstand a seventy-foot river stage. (That was the highest level recorded prior to that time.) The citizens of Lawrenceburg, aided by national guard troops, put up a valiant effort to hold off the rapidly rising water. Sandbags atop the levee held until the unrelenting river exceeded seventy-two feet. The raging river breached the sandbag structure at several spots and poured through the openings. Areas near the initial breaches were subjected to violent surges that ripped houses from their foundations. At other locations, the water rose more gradually. After a few days, the river reached its ultimate level of about eighty feet, and Lawrenceburg became part of the expanded Ohio River. Our house in Greendale was on the last remaining route out of Lawrenceburg. Throughout the day and evening, people fleeing the approaching flood ed our house. As night fell, the flight became more frantic. Many people stopped at our home on Ridge Avenue to ask for possible shelter. We welcomed many friends and relatives along with such possessions as they could transport. The living room and the tool shed became piled high with furniture. At one point, the small house (with only one bathroom) gave shelter to more than thirty people. Mother’s younger brothers, Bob and Dick, came in wearing multiple layers of hats and clothing. (Dick had started out with the family cat in a paper bag, but the cat escaped and was never seen again.) Grandpa remained on the job for several days without rest in the futile effort to save his town. The evening before

the levee broke, he was brought to our house and placed in an upstairs bedroom to sleep. Awoken by blaring sirens and tolling church bells at about 3:00 a.m., he came down the stairs and simply said, “I guess the levee broke,” and went up the stairs for a very long sleep. As daylight returned, the rain had stopped. In spite of the crowd of inhabitants, our house seemed very hushed. The trauma of the previous night was gone, and to me, the situation was becoming an adventure. Grandpa and I walked down Ridge Avenue to the water’s edge on Main Street. Large trucks and small boats continued to bring stunned people out of Lawrenceburg. The water continued to creep up Main Street but never reached the Greendale Town limits. Grandpa and I walked down to the water’s edge and then turned to walk up Ridge Avenue. On the left side of the avenue were many large homes. On the right of Ridge we could look down to the water as it continued to rise in the bottoms. We walked a few miles to Merhoffs’ general store in Homestead. The store shelves were empty except for a jar of hard candy, which we found pushed back in a dark corner. The candy wasn’t very good, but it reminded me that I was becoming hungry. The normal stock of food for our family of four children and two adults disappeared quickly in meeting the needs of many people being housed at 79 Ridge Avenue. However, after a few days, the national guard and Red Cross set up a commissary at the Greendale school from which my brother Bill and I carried home gallon cans of beef broth and other food each day. A tent city was erected to provide temporary shelter for the hundreds of evacuees. (They preferred this term to “refugees.”) Also, many people were moved into the sheds of the idle powder factory. Most of the temporary guests who arrived at our house during the big evacuation gradually moved on to the tent city and other quarters. Daddy wasn’t home during this time. The Columbia Power Plant where he was an operating engineer was cut off by the flood. At one point, he made it home by boat but had to return to the plant after a very short time. The town lost its normal supply of electric power, but generators at the Seagram distillery provided a limited service. (When we listened to the radio, we had to turn off most of the lights.) During the day, we played war games while climbing and hiding among the

sofas, chairs, and other furniture stored in the house. Otherwise, there was little to do while we waited for the floodwaters to go away. After the water receded from Lawrenceburg, the national guard allowed people to return to their homes. We found that Grandpa’s three-story house had been picked up by the water and dropped on its side in the neighbor’s yard. It was a difficult time to see the fate of the house in which both my mother and my brother had been born. Grandpa returned to work with the city crews as cleanup efforts began. He continued to have his meals at our house and kept us informed about cleanup progress. At lunch one day, he said simply, “We found Dad Powell today.” Mr. Powell was the lone fatality of the flood. I his son stopping by our house at one point to ask if we knew where his father might be. In the summer of 1936, we had moved to Greendale from an Aurora house by the river. That house along with many others washed away in the 1937 flood.

The Family

M other and Daddy were teenagers when they married. Bill, who was the first of seven children, was born on August 22, 1927. I, as the second child, was born on July 15, 1928, in Lawrenceburg, Indiana. Soon after my birth, we moved to the Columbia Power Plant village near Cincinnati, Ohio. The village was a quiet, congenial company town, but my parents recognized the limited school availability, so we moved to the house by the river in Aurora. Prior to that move, my sisters Shelia and Shirley were born. After our move to Greendale, sisters Sharon and Susan were born. Harvey II was born on July 30, 1946, while I was serving in the navy. Daddy was among the first employees at the new Columbia Power Plant, which later became Cincinnati Gas and Electric Company’s Miami Fort Station. Despite his lack of a high school education, he worked hard and studied to become a licensed operating engineer. Other than two years in the navy, he worked at the same plant until the time of his death in 1959. Through the Depression years and up to World War II, 79 Ridge Avenue saw little change. By that day’s standards, we were a large family, but Daddy provided a steady income, and Mother managed a frugal but adequate existence. Bill and I performed lawn care jobs, which provided enough income to pay for our annual week at Boy Scouts camp. Later we moved into a routine of setting bowling pins six nights per week and went to Boy Scouts meeting each Monday. Bill was a hard act to follow. He was diligent in his studies and got top grades. He was president of the student council, ran on the track team, and was student manager of the football team. He graduated at the top of his class, but there was no money for college. He stayed out of school for a year and worked two jobs. He had saved about $1,200 by the time he enrolled at Indiana University. During his off year, he continued to run every day. At IU, he was the track team’s top half miler. He was elected to Phi Beta Kappa and received a fellowship to study economics at Princeton University. On December 7, 1941, Daddy came home from his night shift and told us that America was at war. World War II would dominate our lives for years to come.

Patriotism brought the family as well as the community and the country closer together. Rationing of gas, sugar, meat, butter, etc. was only a minor inconvenience compared to our concern for service people and setbacks in initial stages of the war. Daddy started working seven days per week. Mother oversaw the lives of six children as best she could. In high school, I worked on scrap drives, played in the band, played football, and ed a few of the clubs, but I was not a very good student. I just couldn’t find the motivation to study and do homework at night. I only focused on getting though school and ing the navy. Other family had already entered the services. Uncle Bob (Mother’s younger brother) survived when his B-17 bomber was shot down over , and another brother, Dick, was serving as a medic in the Pacific. Daddy’s younger brother, Carl, died when his ship was sunk in the Gulf of Mexico. As the war dragged on, the military draft reached further into the pool of manpower. Daddy received his draft notice in early 1944. He was in an essential industry and could have obtained an exemption, but he seemed to need to serve. He had once said that he regretted being too young to serve in WWI when his older brother, Keith, was killed in . Looking back, I wonder if Mother could have persuaded him to go for the exemption, but she must have understood the need that he felt. Bill and I usually played in the school band, which performed on the courthouse steps each week as new military inductees boarded their buses. On March 8, 1944, we did not play. We were sad, proud, and anxious as we watched Daddy’s bus pull away. We did not perceive the difficulties which were ahead. Recently discovered letters provide a personalized history of life at home as well as the feelings and experiences of our father in the navy. These (almost) daily letters tell of the continuing love between my parents. Daddy’s letters describe his navy experiences going through boot camp, travels across the country, and his assignment to the USS Ommaney Bay. Mother wrote in detail with news about each of the six children in her care. She also wrote about the big vegetable garden and progress in raising chickens. She described her sewing of clothes for the four girls. Mother received a monthly allotment check, which was far from adequate to meet the needs of the seven of us at home. Bill and I mowed lawns during the

summer and set pins at the bowling alley during the winter. Later Bill worked for the Lawrenceburg Press, and I worked for Barrett’s Hardware Store. Both of us bought our own clothes and contributed from our income to family needs. We had to sell the 1937 Dodge, which was our family car. But more importantly, half a world away, a potential catastrophe was developing. The aircraft carrier Ommaney Bay had participated in several Pacific island invasions and was moving in a convoy toward the Philippine island of Luzon. On January 3, 1945, Daddy was having lunch when a Japanese kamikaze crashed into the flight deck where planes were being fueled. Flames exploded throughout the ship. Daddy tried to get to his battle station in the engine room, but it was engulfed in flame. He made his way to the fantail and jumped into the Pacific Ocean. Mother had not received any letters since one dated December 26, 1944, before a heavily censored letter postmarked January 24, 1945, arrived. The letter, which had been started aboard a ship and finished in a barracks, indicated that he was okay. The sinking of the ship was announced on February 13, 1945. We first read about the sinking in the Saturday Evening Post. Daddy arrived home for a thirty-day survivor’s leave in early March 1945. He reported back to the navy on April 7, 1945, and was assigned to the Port Chicago Naval Magazine base in California. He remained at Port Chicago until his (very) honorable discharge. A very happy and relieved wife and six children greeted him at the Lawrenceburg Junction train station. He resumed his lifetime romance with Mother and returned to his job at the power plant. He ed the American Legion and later was elected to two on the Greendale Town Council. I that Daddy attended my final football game for LCHS and saw me in the senior class play. The day after high school graduation, Daddy walked with me to catch the Greyhound bus that took me to Navy Recruiting Center in Cincinnati to start a two-year enlistment.

Moving on in 1946

A long with several other recruits, I was transported to the Great Lakes Naval Training Center. After boot camp, I had a seven-day leave (during which Harvey II was born). I spent part of the leave with Donna in Muncie, where she was in nursing school, and then reported back to Great Lakes for electrician mate training. After four months of electrician school, I had a ten-day leave which allowed me to spend Christmas at home and New Year’s Eve with Donna in Muncie. Orders directed Bill Tortorella and me to report to the USS Zellers DD777 at Newport, Rhode Island. We reported to the Newport Naval Station and found that the Zellers had left for Norfolk, Virginia. The new orders directed us to meet the ship in Norfolk. By the time we got to Norfolk, the ship had left for Guantanamo. When the ship arrived back in Norfolk, we boarded a bus to the ship, but upon arriving at the pier, I found that the sea bag containing most of my possessions had disappeared. I wore clothing borrowed from Bill until I could obtain replacements, including Daddy’s pea coat, which he loaned to me for the “duration.” A fleet including the Zellers left Norfolk on February 1, 1947, for thirty days of maneuvers. During those maneuvers, I had the experience of riding a breeches buoy from the Zellers to the USS Aldeberon for a ten-day work party. The larger ship provided some relief from seasickness, which plagued me during the previous time on the pitching and rolling destroyer. The Zellers docked in San Juan, Puerto Rico, for a few days before returning to Norfolk. From there, the ship sailed to the Brooklyn Navy Yard for the installation of what was then secret guided missile detection equipment. From there we returned to Norfolk to begin preparations for a European patrol. Just before leaving for Europe, I received a traditional “Dear John” letter from Donna. She let me know that she was getting married. I’m not sure whether I was mostly angry, hurt, or relieved, but with a free spirit, I sailed for Europe. We arrived at Plymouth, England, on a holiday celebrating the queen’s birthday. I was somewhat startled by the lingering destruction throughout the city. Most of

the streets had been cleared, but rubble occupied many areas where homes had stood. Some of the locals were bowling on the green and otherwise enjoying the sunny weather. My friend George and I met and spent the afternoon with sisters Beryl and Winn Bolton. At one point, they asked if we had had tea. George replied that we usually drink coffee. Other were clarified while we were standing in queue for a movie. The audience rose and sang “God Save the Queen” before the newsreel. The movie was a drama called The Brothers. The Bolton family included the two girls’ parents, an older brother, and a younger brother who was a member of a youth organization equivalent to the Boy Scouts of America. Their home, which had been built in 1620, had a guest room we rented for a weekend. We learned that their previous home had been lost in the bombings. While in Plymouth, George and I spent much of our free time on outings with the sisters. From Plymouth, the USS Zellers moved to Portsmouth, Cowles on the Isle of Wight, and Southend-on-Sea. After ing the White Cliffs of Dover, the ship went up the Thames to Greenwich and later to Woolwich. Previously I had been given the job of movie operator for the ship. Duties of that job required me to go to the movie exchange at Grosvenor Square each day we were in port. (Whenever the ship prepared to go to sea, we could check out five movies.) The daily jeep rides through London were enjoyable, as were the evenings on Piccadilly Circus. From London, the ship proceeded through the Mediterranean Sea to Naples, Italy. From there we went to Taranto, Venice, and then to Trieste. I had ed the ship’s basketball team. Some of our games had been played on the hangar deck of the aircraft carrier Leyte, but in Trieste, we played in a regular gym where we defeated an army team. (In Taranto, we beat a professional team on an outdoor court.) From Trieste, we made our way through a stormy Adriatic and on to the island of Crete. The shipped remained anchored off the island until the orders came to proceed to Gibraltar. During our stay at Gibraltar, we took advantage of an opportunity for an excursion to Tangiers. I bought a camel-hide purse for Mother and a red fez that is still in my closet. We enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner complete with turkey, cranberries, and cigars while crossing the Atlantic Ocean from Gibraltar to Boston. The ship went into dry dock for a much-needed overhaul. Christmas 1947 was the first I had spent away from my family; however, George and I were invited to spend the holiday

at the home of a shipmate in Worcester, Massachusetts. On a later visit to Worcester, we had to walk three miles through a twenty-two-inch snowfall to get from a dinner with an Italian family to our room at the YMCA. After leaving the Boston Navy Yard, the Zellers returned to Norfolk to prepare for another European assignment. Because my two-year enlistment would have expired during that tour, I was transferred from the ship to the Norfolk base for discharge processing. I was assigned to temporary shore patrol duty. One night of that assignment was guard duty at the naval prison. Interaction with the prisoners was an enlightening though somewhat disturbing experience. On March 8, 1948, I took my first airplane flight from Norfolk to Washington, DC, where I boarded the train to Cincinnati. From Cincinnati, the old familiar Greyhound bus delivered me to Lawrenceburg. Warm spring weather and greetings from people along the street helped to make the homecoming a pleasant experience. To Mother’s surprise, I walked into the kitchen and asked if supper was ready. The nation was at peace, and the family was well on the way to picking up the pieces of our interrupted life. Bill was doing well at Indiana University. Sheila had received a scholarship for nurses training, which would begin soon. Shirley would graduate from high school in June and would the US Navy WAVES. Sharon and Susan were in school. Harvey II (later known as Buddy) was almost two years old. After few weeks of catching up with high school friends, I went to work at the Columbia Power Plant. Work did not put an end to a very active social life. I teamed up with Dick Kreinhop, who had just completed a two-year army hitch. Dick’s father allowed him to use his new Oldsmobile, which we drove to Indianapolis, where our Lawrenceburg Tigers were playing in the state tournament. Also, we made regular trips to dance halls and bars in Ohio. Social life began to slow down by the time Geraldine Farrar introduced me to Wilma Eaglin. Wilma had been married and divorced, but she seemed to have the kind of free spirit and maturity I felt I needed at the time. Together we went to parties, watched Cincinnati Reds games at Crosley Field, and danced to big bands at Moonlight Gardens. On June 2, 1948, we married and left for New Mexico.

Part Two

New Mexico

W hile serving in the navy, I developed an interest in attending the University of New Mexico to study engineering and play football. Because of family opposition to our relationship, Wilma and I decided to get married and go to Albuquerque in time for the summer semester. On June 2, 1948, Dick Kreinhop and Jerry Farrar drove us to Covington, Kentucky, where we were married by a Presbyterian minister. After visiting each of our respective parents to say goodbye, we drove to Indianapolis for our first night together. We then drove to Mason City, Iowa, to visit my navy buddy George Ermer. Leaving Iowa, we drove south to St. Louis, where we connected with Route 66 and headed west. While crossing the country, we had to make several stops to allow an overheating engine to cool. Fortunately, the last twenty miles into Albuquerque were downhill. We rented a cozy room with kitchen privileges next to the campus in a pleasant neighborhood. I was taking two classes at the university, but there was plenty of time to sit by the swimming pool and to take walks in the evening. Along with our hostess, Margaret, we listened to the Democratic convention on her radio and heard Harry Truman speak from the back of a train ing through town. At the University of New Mexico, I enrolled in two classes and played in pickup basketball games, which sometimes included varsity players. In a meeting with the football coach, he discouraged me from studying engineering while playing football. The New Mexico adventure came to an end when Wilma became very pregnant and very homesick. A new engine block had to be installed in the car before we started our return to Indiana. Once on the road, we drove straight through the 1400-mile trip with only stops for gas and food. Thankfully the rebuilt engine performed well. We settled in Wilma’s parents’ house in Aurora while I explored colleges in the area. Although Hanover did not have an engineering program, it became an

obvious choice. The school was close by and some of my high school friends were already there. I decided to major in physical education and natural sciences with the thought of teaching and coaching. The football coach encouraged me to go out for the team. While we were in Aurora, Wilma’s mother became domineering. She seemed to punish her for trying to live her own life. Relocating to Hanover provided some relief, but there were frequent visits during which the pressure continued. We moved into a small apartment and later leased a four-bedroom house, where we rented rooms to other students. Peggy Lee was born at Christ Hospital in Cincinnati on March 4, 1949. Wilma stayed with her mother for several weeks before and after Peggy’s birth. The two years at Hanover were a wonderful learning experience. I studied hard, played football, and was elected to the scholastic honor society. I am proud to have been part of the football team’s two successful seasons. But before the end of my sophomore year, Wilma was pregnant again. (Don’t ask.) We moved back to Aurora, where with the guidance and help from William “Bee” Eaglin, Wilma’s father, we built a small house near her parents’ home. Bee had a kind, generous, and hardworking nature, but he was unable to offset the continuing harassment his wife exerted on Wilma. Wilma’s mental health deteriorated to the stage that she required a regimen of counseling, drugs, and eventual hospitalization. Bobby (Robert Eric) was born on August 12, 1950. Peggy had arrived on March 4, 1948, and the two of them formed a ing bond which endures today. Meanwhile, I worked at the Schenley distillery for several months and then went to work as a station operator at the new Tanners Creek Power Plant, which had been built by Indiana and Michigan Electric Company near Lawrenceburg. The new job allowed me to take advantage of my navy electrician training, which I later supplemented with a correspondence course in electrical engineering. Subsequent advancements brought about some additional security and stability, and in 1956 we moved from Aurora to a new home in Greendale. Wilma’s health improved. In June 1958, we moved to Fort Wayne, where I became chief load dispatcher for I&M. While our modest house on Eastwood Drive was under construction,

we rented a lake cottage and enjoyed a relaxed summer of swimming and fishing.

Fort Wayne

T he new community seemed to be a good fit for our family. Life revolved around school, church friends, and little league sports. Kirk was born on March 31, 1959. From 1962 to 1964, most of our spare time was devoted to building a new, larger house in a neighborhood near Snider High School. Peggy and Bobby were among the first classes in the new school, and there they formed friendships which endured through the years. After moving into the new house in 1964, I enrolled in classes at the Fort Wayne campus of Indiana University. My job at I&M required being on call and working extended hours during storms and other emergencies, but on June 6, 1968, I graduated with a BS degree in management and istration. Although Wilma was never in favor of my educational efforts, she gave me a set of golf clubs as a graduation present. On Father’s Day 1968, I took Bobby and Kirk to Lakeside Golf Course, and the first time using the new clubs, I had a hole in one. Never again would golf be so much fun. Since arriving in Fort Wayne, I had been promoted from dispatcher to chief dispatcher and then to operations engineering supervisor. The next promotion meant a transfer to I&M’s parent company, American Electric Power Company in Canton, Ohio.

Canton, Ohio

I n 1968, Peggy was in her freshman year at Indiana University in Bloomington, and Bobby was in his senior year at Snider High School. I was offered a job to head up a new department with AEP-I&M’s parent company in Canton. We were not anxious to leave Fort Wayne, but the career advancement was too attractive to turn down. As part of my new assignment, I put together a staff of technical people to address the reliability of the AEP electric power system. Incidents such as the Northeast Blackout of 1965 brought about a growing realization of the power system’s vulnerability. The system had grown in complexity faster than the control systems and the skills of people responsible for the day-to-day operations. Working with Purdue University, we developed and implemented a training program for more than one hundred system operators. The Canton Operation Center was in a newly constructed, secure facility. A new computerized control system was designed and installed to optimize the economic operation of about twenty dispersed power plants. My job was to develop programs to ensure the reliability of the operation. These programs required monitoring AEP’s transmission lines and more than twenty interconnections with neighboring electric utilities. During this four-year assignment, I met on a regular basis with AEP engineering personnel in New York City to review studies of projected system improvements and potential operating problems. Also, I traveled extensively to coordinate operations with neighboring utilities and to participate in regional organizations involved in assuring the overall reliability of the national power grid. As the result of the exposure to the many aspects of the power system, I developed an interest in the field of energy policy. In response to an ad in Electrical World, I applied for, and obtained, the position of programs engineer on the New England Energy policy staff in Boston.

Boston

I had some misgivings about leaving AEP after a rewarding, though sometimes difficult, twenty-one-year period, but I felt my professional career was ready to move in a new direction. Also, my family was in a transitional state. Bobby, who had remained in Fort Wayne when we left for Canton, was married and his wife, Debby, had given birth to their son Eric (my first grandchild). Peggy would soon graduate from Indiana University and move to Florida. Kirk, in his middle school years, was beginning the development of a creative personality. Wilma was having difficulty dealing with the (mostly) empty nest syndrome. After a few days in a motel, we moved into a duplex apartment in Winchester, Massachusetts. The commute via B&M Railroad took only twenty-two minutes plus a one-mile walk to the NEEPS office at Number 6 Beacon Street. The NEEPS staff was headed by Paul Shore, who had recently retired from the Federal Power Commission. The newly formed organization had grown out of a study which pointed out the need for an independent agency to provide liaison between the electric power industry and the six New England governments. The staff met monthly with the chairmen of the six state public utility commissions and quarterly with an advisory committee consisting of two retired utility presidents, a retired federal power commissioner, and others. As part of my responsibility, I attended regular monthly meetings of operation executives from the numerous New England utility entities. I conducted and published studies of future New England electric power usage and the impact of electric heating on power supply requirements. I testified about future power requirements at a New Hampshire Public Service commission hearing regarding a proposed nuclear power plant. I attended a course on nuclear power and other advanced technologies at Georgia Tech. In all, the year on the NEEPS staff was an exciting and enlightening experience, but the 1972 presidential election had an impact on the future of our work. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Massachusetts was the only state not carried by Nixon, but soon after the election, we were informed that funding for the staff would be severely reduced. In reflecting on the current situation, I

realized that I missed the day-to-day power system operations and would be glad to get away from the political atmosphere. Luckily, I learned that the city of Lakeland, Florida, needed someone to manage their new system operating facility. This presented an opportunity to get back to hands-on power system operation as well as an escape from the cruel New England climate. The Boston experience presented many challenges for Wilma and Kirk. Wilma could not cope with Boston-area traffic so her daily s were limited to a few immediate neighbors. A neighbor who was a resident in anesthesiology at Massachusetts General Hospital was an avid photographer. With his help, Kirk became a photography enthusiast, which became an important part of his future. Kirk also developed some skills in chess and started an underground newspaper. The new job provided a limited relocation allowance, so we sold our piano and some other large items to help reduce the moving costs. I loaded the car with various household items, including an aquarium, and drove to Lakeland. I purchased a modest house with a fenced yard in a quiet neighborhood. After the school year ended, Wilma, Kirk, and our dog Cesar traveled by air to me.

Lakeland

T he Lakeland Municipal Electric System consisted of an oil-fired power plant and transmission lines serving local consumers and a connection with Tampa Electric Company. A second power plant was under construction, and a new connection with Florida Power Company was being developed. The utility management had recognized the complexities of the growing system. A new control center was under construction, and a computerized control system had been designed. My jobs were to staff the control center, oversee the installation of the control system, and supervise its ongoing operation. Fortunately, a six-month delay in delivery of the control system allowed ample time to select and train the people for its operation. Development of the needed training material presented a welcome opportunity to get back to the basics of power system operation. The people assigned to the group of system operators were anxious to learn, and many of them would later progress to positions of higher responsibility. Kirk’s enthusiasm for photography grew into more than a hobby. He was the photographer for the high school newspaper. In addition, his pictures were featured in local editions of the Orlando Sentinel Star. He was not yet old enough to drive, so I had to accompany him on many assignments and thereby developed my own interest in the field. We teamed up for field trips and spent many hours working in the dark room. With the successful startup and continuing operation of the control center, life in Lakeland became rather relaxed. Then in 1975, an ad in Electric World aroused considerable excitement at the prospect of living in Bloomington, Indiana. Wilma wanted to get away from the Florida heat and bugs. Kirk, along with his growing photography activity, had completed three years of high school and was not in favor of the move. In addition to the higher pay, the new job represented advancement in my career objectives.

Bloomington

H oosier Energy management was ill prepared for its coming transition from a small, politically oriented organization to becoming a major power-producing utility. Before I arrived, decisions had been made to build a new power plant in Merom, Indiana, to replace power being purchased from other utilities and to provide a large increase in generating capacity. The Ratts Generating Station had been placed in operation a few years earlier amid years of political controversy. The utility operated at an economic loss due to inefficient use of the plant and purchased power contracts. I instituted new strategies and procedures to overcome these deficiencies while addressing the challenges associated with expansion of the generation and transmission facilities. Financing of the project came through a loan guarantee istered by the US Department of Agriculture. Obtaining that guarantee required approval of financial, environmental, legal, and financial studies. Those requirements involved my attendance at meetings and conferences in Indianapolis, Washington and Boston. Major opposition to the project came through an environmental suit filed in federal court by a group of Merom area landowners. The suit was settled after a multimillion-dollar offer was made to the landowners. Staffing the new plant expanded my involvement in personnel affairs. I had to deal with the International Brotherhood of Electric Workers (IBEW), which represented power plant and transmission employees. These dealings involved negotiation of a new contract as well as resolving disputes and grievances. The demands of my job put additional stress on my troubled marriage. Relations between Wilma and Kirk had deteriorated to the point that Kirk had to leave home. Wilma’s mother had ed away, and her father, Bee, developed some serious health issues, which made it necessary for him to stay with us. We had plenty of room, and as he recovered, Bee was happy to perform small chores around the house. Wilma vehemently objected to Bee continuing to stay with us, and shamefully we placed him in a nursing home. Our marriage was hitting rock bottom. I suggested that we separate and see if we could work things out. She

immediately called Peg and Bob and told them we were getting a divorce. To see if I could get used to living alone, I spent a week on Sanibel Island in Florida. Upon returning, I moved into an apartment and filed for divorce. Growing resentment of my demanding management style had built up among some of the older Hoosier Energy staff . Their wives were happy to side with Wilma and recommend a divorce attorney. Only later did I realize the extent of their influence. As part of the divorce settlement, our Bloomington house was sold, and Wilma moved to Fort Wayne, where she would become dependent on Bob, who endured considerable frustration in helping her. Our divorce became final in September 1978. As manager of operations, I had responsibility for negotiating contracts for coal supply for the Merom plant. Also, I participated in the selection of an engineering and construction firm, and along with that firm, I developed the conceptual plant design and the election of major plant components, such as boilers, turbine generators, and environmental control facilities. Those activities required a lot of travel, and when in the office, I worked long hours to keep up with ongoing operations. Along with the discussions and negotiations, I was invited to be a guest at various events, such as the Indy 500 and the Kentucky Derby. At a dinner the evening before the Derby, I sat across from a very charming lady named Nancy, who lived in Indianapolis. We had a nice conversation that evening and met for dinner a week or so later. But the situation at Hoosier Energy had become untenable. In September 1979, under considerable pressure, I resigned from Hoosier Energy. It was time for this fifty-one-year-old person to put personal and professional turmoil behind and get on with life.

Tampa

A fter exploring and eliminating opportunities in Michigan, Colorado, and Saudi Arabia, I learned that Seminole Electric Cooperative was expanding its organization and building a new power plant in Florida. I became director of engineering and moved to Tampa. Seminole, which had started as an agent to purchase power for eleven distribution cooperatives, was developing into a major generation and transmission utility. I welcomed the opportunity to become part of this ambitious and exciting program. By strange coincidence, on the trip to Florida, I was seated next to Nancy. She, her mother, and her two sons were on their way to a Caribbean sailing vacation. We caught up on events of our respective lives and agreed to get together later. Even with my very busy schedule, we worked in time to attend the 1980 Indianapolis 500 race and Governor’s Ball. Later we spent a week at her family compound on Lake Wawasee. Nancy’s husband had been secretary of state prior to his death in a plane crash. Her family was wealthy, as was her circle of friends. I was out of my league. Also, I had a strong need for a successful career at Seminole. In the end, as Nancy dropped me off at the airport, I kissed her and wished her a wonderful life. As Seminole director of engineering, I oversaw the design and construction of transmission lines, environmental affairs, and planning for future requirements. One aspect of such planning was exploring the potential for utilizing Florida’s abundant peat resources as fuel for power generation. This method was already in use in Europe. I went on a ten-day trip to Finland to learn more about the technology. The trip produced some interesting results, but the idea was dropped. In 1982, the Director of Operations resigned, and I was asked to take on that additional role until a new Director of Engineering could be appointed. For the rest of my career, I would be director of operations.

Operations

S eminole management had no experience with the scheduling and control of generation facilities or interchange transactions. There was an assumption that these functions would be handled by Florida Power Corporation. After conducting an economic analysis, I presented a plan to install a system control center in the new headquarters building that was under construction. The plan was accepted, and a consulting firm was contracted to perform the design of a modern, computer-controlled system. The lead engineer from the consulting firm happened to be Bob Guberman, who had become a good friend when we worked together on the Hoosier Energy project. Together we designed the control system and traveled extensively to inspect facilities and to meet with potential vendors. During the travels, we partnered in several tennis matches. In staffing of the control center, I recruited several experienced system operators who had worked with me at Lakeland and Bloomington. Also, I was given the responsibility for the istration of coal supply contracts and arrangements for the delivery of coal to Palatka. This responsibility involved dealing with mining companies, railroads, and a river barge hauling arrangement. The previous Director of Operations had started the process of recruiting and training the staff for the Palatka plant. As plant equipment was installed, the plant manager and other operations personnel, along with the project management team, participated in the checkout and testing the various components. Driving between Tampa and Palatka became a regular event.

Shirley

W hile I was still Director of Engineering, my chief engineer, Rich Sherril, invited me to a party celebrating his son’s First Communion. As Rich grilled hamburgers, family and neighbors gathered in the backyard to drink beer and visit. I greeted a few people I knew, grabbed a beer, and eased into one of the chairs that had been set up in a friendly circle. While surveying the circle of faces, I noticed an animated redhead seated across from me. Her foxy, overbite smile caught my immediate attention. We were never introduced formally (nothing in that atmosphere was formal), but as the day went on, we gravitated toward each other. Later we saw each other from time to time, and to my surprise, she seemed very intelligent and had a great sense of humor. Shirley was very busy with the establishment of a new distribution center for the Kirsch company, and I was heavily involved in the startup of the Palatka Power Station and the new system control center. For some time, both of us traveled extensively and saw little of each other. Returning from one trip, I called her and asked if she would be interested in going to dinner. We had dinner at Chuck’s Steakhouse and saw the movie On the Road Again. This was the beginning of a long relationship. For New Year’s, we made a trip to North Carolina to visit her family and to enjoy the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains. On Valentine’s Day in 1981, we were married at a Presbyterian church in Tampa with Bob Guberman as my best man. Shirley’s sons, JR and Chris, went with us for a week on Sanibel Island. When we returned from Sanibel, Shirley went back to dealing with her new distribution facility and a corporate shakeup leading to the sale of Kirsch to Cooper Industries. I went back to dealing with implementation of the new system control center, coal deliveries, and startup of the Palatka Power Station. The system control center implementation went smoothly, thanks to the efforts of experienced staff and guidance form Bob Guberman. After the resolution of some operational disputes, the complicated fuel delivery arrangement functioned to start building the coal stockpile. Close coordination among the project management team, plant operators, and various contractors produced favorable

progress toward initial plant operation. The progress suffered a serious setback when a record-breaking freeze struck Florida in December 1982. Many components that had not been designed for such conditions had to be redesigned and replaced before the plant could begin operation. By the end of 1983, the entire plant was in operation. In 1984, Shirley resigned from Kirsch and became a full-time ing student at the University of South Florida. To celebrate this event, we took a trip to Las Vegas and explored the canyons of Utah and Arizona. When she graduated with a master’s degree and ed the A exam, we embarked on a two-week whirlwind tour of Australia. After that trip, she accepted a position with the “big six” ing firm KPMG. Her new career, like her schooling and related activities, was all-consuming. There was little time or interest for family life. I transported each of the boys to their school functions and helped with coaching little league football and baseball. Shirley’s son JR played high school football. His grades were better than average, and he responded well to my parenting. After high school, he ed the marines, where he fought in Desert Storm. On the other hand, Chris was a continuing problem. Shirley put him in a private school after he had gotten in trouble at his public middle school, but after some shoplifting incidents, she sent him to Atlanta to live with his father and stepmother, Sharon. Chris developed a good relationship with Sharon and did well in the new environment. He graduated from high school and ed the US Navy nuclear submarine program. Shirley left KPMG to take a position with Tampa Electric Company, where she progressed to higher management. Meanwhile, the Seminole generating station had graduated from many startup challenges to normal operation. The coal transportation facilities maintained scheduled deliveries to the plant stockpile. The system control center functioned as expected. I kept busy, but the initial stress was relieved by well-qualified managers, supervisors, and employees.

Family Matters

A fter graduation from Indiana University, Peg, armed with her degree in textile merchandizing, went to work as a buyer for a large department store in Miami. Eventually, she tired of the rigors of international travel and set up her own distribution business. She and her husband, Harry Davant, moved from Miami to the quieter and more accessible location of Sarasota. Throughout her adult life, Peg has filled the ing role of big sister to Bob and helpful aunt to his children. Following law school, Bob became the father two lovely daughters, Jen and Ally, in addition to his son, Erik, who was preparing for college. Bob and his wife, Debby, had serious disagreements and the family was in crisis. A year of agony prevailed before Bob and Debby’s divorce became final. The situation took a substantial emotional and financial toll on Bob. The children maintained their loyalty to both parents and survived the turmoil surprisingly well. Bob’s practice mostly involved family law, which along with his personal problems became rather depressing. He was still struggling with his situation when Kandi, an investigator in the Allen County Prosecuting Attorney’s Office, came into his life. She helped and encouraged him to get back on track. Eventually, he became an assistant prosecuting attorney and was later appointed as a superior court judge. Bob and Kandi were married, and on May 26, 1990, they became the parents of Robert H. G. Ross. “Bobby” became the center of their lives. While in his early teens, Kirk became a featured photographer for the Polk County edition of the Orlando Sentinel Star. During our time in Bloomington, his musical interests blossomed and led to the formation of the rock band LUD. He became independent, mostly ing himself as a cook at the Uptown Café. He and his first wife, Emily, traveled to Mexico, New Orleans, and ultimately to Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Meanwhile, Shirley and I realized that she no longer needed me, and we both knew the marriage was not working. In 1992, she hired an aggressive lawyer and filed for divorce. To be honest, I was ready to get away from the marriage and

establish more freedom of choice. To expedite the ordeal, I agreed to give Shirley our current house and furnishings, the fourteen acres in North Carolina, and significant amounts of money from my retirement savings. I experienced a sense of relief while approaching retirement from Seminole in 1993. Neither of us had any desire to move on to a new relationship. Somewhat relaxed in our new status, we started spending time together. Eventually I gave up my apartment and moved back in with Shirley. We drew up what amounted to a partnership agreement where we agreed to share household expenses while keeping control of our individual lives. Under the new agreement we bought a very nice home in the north Tampa community of Hunter’s Green and started building a house on the North Carolina property.

Retirement

T he Hunter’s Green country club community seemed to present an ideal retirement setting. I played tennis two to three times per week and occasionally endured a round of golf. The people in the tennis group became good friends, and the neighbors were pleasant. Best of all, a white West Highland terrier came into my life. Duffey would be my constant friend and companion well beyond the Hunter’s Green years. Shirley remained heavily involved in pursuing her professional career and was not very involved in the community. When not on business trips, she commuted to downtown Tampa. She was involved in three auto accidents over a period of about two years and became increasingly upset with the commuting. My tennis playing ended when a fall on the court tore the rotator cuff in my right shoulder. While recovering from shoulder surgery, I underwent an emergency gall bladder removal. Accepting the change in circumstances, I told Shirley that I would agree to move to downtown Tampa once the North Carolina house was completed. For the next two, years I was engaged in the project to design and build the ideal mountain home. During the initial stages of construction, Shirley’s sister, Loretta, who lived close by and her husband, Barton, welcomed Duffey and me to stay with them. We enjoyed many fine suppers and pleasant evening conversations. We made frequent trips back and forth to Tampa, but as building progressed, Duffey and I spent most of our time at the new house.

Duffey and the FBI

D uffey hardly noticed when a small airplane circled overhead, but he suddenly took off running through the woods toward the gravel road that formed the eastern border of the property. By the time I caught up with him, he was greeting a group of uniformed men carrying automatic weapons who were exiting gray SUVs parked along the road. As I approached, one of the FBI agents asked me questions about structures in the area where someone might hide. I asked if they had checked on the Martins, who lived nearby. He spread out a map on the hood of an SUV and asked me to point out the Martin house. As I looked at the map, I noticed a square marked “Truck” next to the Martin house. The subject of the search turned out to be the suspect of bombings in Birmingham and Atlanta. The following day, I was moving some rocks when Duffey took off in a dash toward the north end of the property. As I came through the woods, someone yelled, “Is that you, Bob? We’ve got Duffey.” The agents had left their vehicles on the gravel road and were on a TVA power line access road, which formed the north border of the property. I told them that a mile farther up the access road, it reached a high point with a commanding view of the area. Duffey and another dog, who had ed the search, accompanied a team of agents up the road. The agent in charge and I stayed behind. When the team returned and as the group approached the gravel road, we noticed a reporter coming from a Fox News van. The reporter asked me about the dogs. I simply told her they were a West Highland terrier and an Alaskan husky. That night, a television news broadcast reported that special dogs had been brought in to aid in the search.

Back in Tampa

W e sold the Hunter’s Green house and moved to downtown Tampa. After living several months in an apartment, we moved into a townhouse in the Bayshore neighborhood. Shirley became active in a women’s rescue center. I volunteered at the Hillsborough Literacy Council, where I helped set up a computerized English as a Second Language program and various istrative routines. For this work, I was recognized with a service award from the Hillsboro County Commission. A whirlwind trip to London and through the Chunnel to Paris fulfilled long-held desires for both Shirley and me. The museums and historical sites of London and the art and food of Paris lived up to our expectations; however, after the trip, it became obvious that our relationship was going nowhere. In April 1999, Duffey and I went to the Murphy, North Carolina, house to think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I made trips to Indiana to visit friends and family and explored prospective places to live. On my seventy-first birthday, July 15, I visited Kirk and Sally in Chapel Hill. The return trip resulted in a defining event. Suddenly a white car sliding sideways on the rain-slicked road appeared in my headlights. There was a crash and a sound like woom. Then nothing until I awoke with an excruciating pain in my chest. I let out a scream, but then I looked down at Duffey’s two dark eyes looking at me with pain and confusion of his own. Airbags and seat belts saved our lives, so I was not relieved of the task of defining the rest of my life. There are many caring people in the world, and several of them were on US Highway 15/129 that night. I still the lady standing in the rain next to the car and talking to me as we waited for help. Another lady came by with a cell phone and called Shirley’s mother, who lived nearby. The lady took Duffey to her home and kept him until he was picked up by Shirley’s brother later that night. Shirley’s sister, Jean, arrived at the scene and followed the paramedics to the

Murphy Medical Center. She took charge of my wallet and helped deal with the state troopers and medical staff. She was not able to board the helicopter that carried me and the injured sheriff’s deputy but drove to the hospital in Chattanooga, where she stayed with me through the emergency treatment and tests. Looking back, I have always felt the flowers I sent her were an inadequate expression of my appreciation. The trauma center staff found that my injuries consisted of a broken sternum, bruised ribs, and damaged lungs in the lower right side. (A small wrist fracture was discovered later.) Pain from the sternum subsided over the next week, and finally I could breathe and go to the bathroom on my own. The rest of the ten days in the hospital were focused on treating the damaged lung. Kirk arrived at some point the next morning, which allowed Jean to go home. Bob also arrived and took turns with Kirk to stay with me. Shirley sent flowers and came to visit, along with other of her family . I was touched. When I was released from the hospital, Barton was there to transport me to his home, where I was reunited with Duffey. For several days, I was propped up in a recliner while Loretta and Barton pampered me until Peg arrived from Sarasota. We went to the Murphy house, where my sister Susan and her husband, Ken, helped pack some of my personal belongings into Peg’s rental car. Cushioned with pillows and buckled into the enger seat, I left the Murphy house for the last time and headed for the next phase of my life in Sarasota.

Part Three

Sarasota

P eg and Harry provided a comfortable recliner in which I spent several days and nights recovering from the North Carolina ordeal. With Peg’s help, I shopped for a replacement car, which turned out to be 1999 Honda Accord. (The wrecked car was a 1996 version of the same model.) For many reasons, Sarasota was the choice to be my new hometown. I moved into an apartment in a complex known as Tuscany and lived there for the next four years. While living at the Tuscany, I spent a lot of time with Peg and Harry, enrolled in painting classes at the Ringling School of Art, took income tax training, and participated in the Volunteer Income Tax Assistance program. Also, I met a charming, intelligent lady named Paula. We became good friends. Paula had lived in Venice, Florida, for several years, but along with her friend Barbara, she was considering a move to Connecticut. In December 1999, the two ladies went to Connecticut to test themselves in the cold New England climate. I went on a delightful Caribbean cruise and later enjoyed the millennium New Year celebration with people I had met on the cruise.

Millennium

F rom September 1999 to September 2003, the Tuscany apartment provided a pleasant home for Duffey and me. We took walks around the complex, and I made good use of the pool and the exercise facilities. I took some classes at the Ringling School of Art and in ensuing years produced several paintings which hang on my walls or were given to friends and family. I ed a writers group and began writing my life story. Also I began working in the Volunteer Income Tax Assistance program. I felt I had become part of the Sarasota scene, but it was time to find a permanent home. A villa in the Oakhurst Condominium community turned out to be just what I was looking for. The unit was in my price range and had been well maintained. Assisted by Peg and her husband, Harry, I painted the walls and had most of the carpeting replaced. After completion of some other fix up work, I took up residence in my Oakhurst home. I had much to learn about condominium living, but I took an active interest in the association matters. In 2004, Bud Cohn became president of the Oakhurst Condominium Association when the previous president resigned. He asked me to fill a vacancy on the board of trustees and take over the treasurer position. Tom Dwight became vice president and managed the tree-trimming and replacement program; Bill Cerato was working hard to maintain the buildings, grounds, and roads. The four of us formed a close-knit team, which in twelve years managed the upgrade and replacement of all roofs, repaved the roads, twice painted all buildings with a new color scheme, relined the swimming pool, and installed a geothermal pool heating system. Thoughtful budgeting and financial control assured that funds were available as needed for capital replacements and ongoing maintenance.

2006: A Busy Year

M y granddaughter, Ally, was now a A with KPMG and was nearing the end of a two-year assignment in Sidney, Australia. In August 2006, I ed her in Sidney, and from there, we traveled to Darwin and later to Fremantle and Perth. While in Darwin, we toured the huge wildlife preserves with jumping crocodiles and magnetic termites, celebrated her birthday, and enjoyed great seafood and beautiful sunsets. We took a river cruise from Fremantle to Perth and had dinner with one of Ally’s many Australian friends. Ally had to return to Sidney and left me on my own for a three-day visit to Adelaide. I had developed an enthusiasm for Australian Rules football, so it was interesting when the national champion Freemantle team players were on my flight from Perth to Adelaide. I ed a tour of the Barossa wine country (home of Yellow Tail, etc.). One day as I set out on a walk to explore the city, I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings on a north-south road. I knew I was south of the city so I decided that as long as I kept the sun behind me, I would be going north. Three miles later, I realized my mistake and caught a trolley back to the center of town. Back in Sidney, Ally had resumed her daily routine of leaving her small flat in Manly and taking the ferry across the harbor to her job in downtown Sidney. After returning from Adelaide, I looked around Manly, where I found an internet café, and caught up on the news from home. On several days, I took the ferry to Sidney and walked around the city. One all-day trip to the Blue Mountains provided a chance for some creative photography. One evening I met Ally for dinner at an Italian restaurant in Darling Harbor, where we were ed by her friend David. The same David is now her husband and the father of her three delightful children. A few days after returning to Sarasota, I flew to Cincinnati and drove to my high school sixty-year class reunion at the Dearborn County Country Club. (More than sixty years earlier at that location, I played in a small band for country club dances.) Upon entering the club, my first thought was that these people are getting old. At the reception desk, I was welcomed by Lucy Theis-Mcleaster and

Pat Morris-Busse (my leading lady from the senior class play). Later I asked Pat if she ever thought about the play, and she said she especially ed the kiss. Pat and I were among a small, very friendly group of people who met at the club for breakfast the next morning. With no specific plans in mind, I had planned to stay over another day before returning to Sarasota. I called Pat and asked if she would like to go to dinner. She hesitated before saying, “I guess that would be okay.” I picked her up at home, and after some discussion, we agreed to go to the Grand Victoria Casino in Rising Sun. Over dinner, we had a surprisingly intimate exchange about the intervening sixty years. I touched on the history of my two marriages and the relationships which followed. As we continued our discussions, we tried our luck at the casino’s slot machines. (Pat won $13, and I broke even.) We were quiet on the drive from Rising Sun to Aurora and up Sunny Side to the house Pat and John had built more than fifty years earlier. She said, “Thanks for a nice evening,” and retreated to the house. I can’t say I had any romantic expectations, but at least I’d hoped for an invitation to a nightcap or a cup of coffee. On my trip to Sarasota, I tried to analyze what I had done to bring the evening to such an abrupt conclusion. Several days later, we began an exchange of email messages that became increasingly intimate. I addressed her as my leading lady. The exchange led to my inviting Pat to visit me in Sarasota. After a few days of procrastination, she agreed. I met her at the Tampa airport, and as we drove to Sarasota, our relationship began a move to a new level. We discussed our high school days and why we didn’t get together then. During my first three years of high school, I worked nights and had no money for dating. In my senior year, I was heavily involved with a very jealous Donna, who precluded any possibility of my getting together with my leading lady. We each spent Christmas 2006 with our respective families in Indiana and returned together for three months of blissful living in Sarasota. The blissful living came to an end when Pat was summoned to Indiana for the funeral of a relative. Thus began the tumultuous year of 2007. Managing Oakhurst Condominium Association’s finances was complicated and required a lot of my hands-on attention during preparation for major expenditures and an evolving investment picture. By timing the maturity of

certificates of deposit with projects, such as painting and roof replacement, we completed the projects while maintaining a healthy financial position. I received helpful from other trustees and the hip was content as maintenance fees remained modest. While traveling to Indiana, I handled my responsibilities with many phone calls and internet transactions. In June 2007, Pat sold the Aurora house, which she and her husband, John, had built together and shared until his death from melanoma in 2002. To be close to her daughters, Anita and Jonna, she moved to Indianapolis, where she bought a condominium in an attractive lakeside community. Along with the daughters and their husbands, I helped her settle into her new home before returning to Sarasota. In my absence, Peg continued to take good care of Duffey, but it was obvious that he was suffering. A veterinary specialist in Fort Meyers diagnosed an incurable autoimmune disease. Prednisone gave some relief to his skin irritation, but he continued to weaken. Duffey’s death in September 2007 left a hole in my life that will never quite go away.

Duffey 1994–2007

I heard voices so I hopped out of the cardboard box I shared with my mother and sister and checked out the two people who were looking at me. The guy they called Bob was smiling. The red-haired lady called Shirley, who seemed to be along for the ride, was friendly as well. I returned my most pleasant look, and soon we were in their car for the trip to my new home. Bob asked permission to call me Duffey. That sounded fine to me, so I gave him a friendly bark. During the ride, I wondered what living in the home would be like and if there were other pets. The answer to the last concern came in the form a big black cat named Luther, who met us at the door. He was twice my size and made it clear that I was entering his space. Bob let Luther know that I was here to stay, and he would have to deal with it. His hungry stare and his constantly flipping tail told me I’d need to watch my back. During the first night in the new home, I missed my old family. Bob put a stuffed animal in my cage and gave me a treat as the cage door was closed for the night. In later years, the cage door was left open to my comfortable refuge, but I always got the bedtime treat. You could say that I arrived at Hunter’s Green already “house broken” and always tried to please Bob (and when necessary Shirley) so I didn’t resist when they took me to obedience school. The school was a big joke. I spent a lot of time sitting between two females (bitches). One of them was a Dalmatian, and the other was a pit bull. I once grabbed a treat away from the pit bull (not a good idea). I caught on to the “Heal, sit, and stay” stuff but decided to not just stay when Bob walked away. So anyway, I guess I flunked, but Bob let me know it was okay. By the time we moved from Hunter’s Green to downtown Tampa, I had grown to match Luther’s size. He did not handle the move very well, but then neither did Bob. He and I moved into an apartment for a while, but eventually we moved back in with Shirley.

From downtown Tampa, we started making trips to North Carolina to watch over construction of a new house on a tree-covered hillside. Shirley’s sister, “Loretta,” and her husband, “Barton,” who lived near the new house, were very good to Bob and me. In the evenings, we went to their house, where Loretta fixed us dinner. After dinner, we visited with our hosts for a while before retiring to the comfortable bedroom they provided for us. One day soon after Bob and I moved into the new house, Bob was arranging rocks and I was standing guard when an airplane came low overhead. There were sounds coming from the gravel road next to our property, so I ran to investigate. The visitors had arrived in trucks, were in uniform, and carried guns, but they were friendly to me. Eventually Bob reached the scene and saw that I had things under control. The guy in charge talked with Bob and decided to send a team to check out the area around the dirt road which ran across the top of the property. I decided to go along with the team while Bob stayed with the guy in charge. Meanwhile, an old female Alaskan husky from up the road ed the search team. As we returned to where the agents’ trucks were parked, some people with notebooks and microphones came up and started asking questions. That evening while watching TV, Bob laughed when it was announced that special dogs had been brought in to help with the manhunt. We made trips back and forth to Tampa for a while, but finally we left Shirley and Luther behind and went to North Carolina on our own. That stage came to an end while we were returning from Bob’s seventy-first birthday celebration with Kirk and Sally in Chapel Hill. Rain was falling when we stopped at the Ranger Station to get gas and pick up some supplies. On long trips, I usually lay on the ledge above the back seat, but I could tell we were almost home, so I moved up to the “shotgun” seat (a fortunate move). About a mile from Ranger Station, we looked up to see a white car out of control and coming right at us. The crash threw me against the enger-side airbag. I made it back to the seat and looked at Bob. At first, he was quiet, but within a few seconds, he let out a painful cry. But he looked down at my confused expression and told me we would be all right. How did he know? Bob’s knees were pushed into the dashboard, and his chest was pressed onto the steering wheel. He could move an arm well enough to hand my leash to a lady who would take care of me until a family person came to get me. I spent the next

ten days with Loretta and Barton while Bob was in the hospital. Before I had left the accident scene, I saw the paramedics extracting Bob from the car. I heard them say that they were going to fly him to Chattanooga Hospital. After ten days in the hospital, Bob was brought by Barton to his house for our reunion. Neither of us felt like playing around, but it felt good to be together. My friend (and Bob’s daughter) Peg arrived from Sarasota. We said goodbye to Loretta and Barton as Peg took us to the house on the hill to collect some of our stuff. Then we left North Carolina behind and started on the long drive to Sarasota and the home of Peg and Harry. Bob spent most of the next several days recovering from his injuries in a recliner. I enjoyed spending time playing with Peg when she had the time. Harry was great about making sure I was fed and taking me for walks. Harry let me know that his chair was off-limits, but I liked lying in it when he was gone. I usually managed to hop down as soon as he came in the door, but once I failed to hear him come in. Busted. Eventually we were ready to find our own place in Sarasota. We drove around many Sarasota neighborhoods in our new car, which to me was just like the old one. We found an apartment in a place called the Tuscany. Bob and I enjoyed the four years we were based at Tuscany. Peg was always close by, and I stayed with her often when Bob was gone on his trips. Also we traveled together on some long road trips. One of these took us to Minnesota to visit Bob’s sister Sharon and her big, chocolate Lab aptly named Thunder. We had some disagreements over sharing food, but Sharon worked out a separate feeding routine. It was fun chasing rabbits and roaming around the wooded grounds between a river and a lake. As usual, we took my cage along, so I always had at least that much of my own space. On another trip, we went to Fort Wayne, the home of another Bob and two frisky beagles. One of them tried to stick his head into my cage, and I nipped him on the nose. Having established the boundaries, we got along fine. From Fort Wayne, we traveled to Connecticut to visit Paula and help her move in to her new home. It was a quiet, peaceful place with a lot of woods to roam. After a few months, we started on the next leg of our journey to visit Kirk and

Sally in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Kirk, Sally, and their dogs always made me feel welcome. I roamed the big, fenced yard and chased squirrels up the many large trees. Kirk cooked a lot of tasty food on a big, outdoor grill. During meals, I anxiously waited for the generous helpings of leftovers. In the evenings, I relaxed on the deck while Kirk and Bob conspired to solve the world’s problems (whatever that meant) and Kirk played his guitar. In 2003, with the help of Peg and Harry, we moved from the Tuscany apartment to our condominium home in Oakhurst. I enjoyed space and the quiet atmosphere of the community. On our walks, I had to be on a leash, but we made some outings to a big dog park, where I could run loose with the big dogs. In 2006, I wasn’t feeling well when Bob left on a monthlong trip to Australia. Peg took me to see a very nice vet named Laurie. Dr. Laurie gave me some pills, which made me feel better but didn’t relieve my itching skin. After Bob returned, we tried going to the dog park again. I didn’t feel like running with the big dogs and couldn’t stand to be around the pesky, small dogs. Dr. Laurie tried other medicines, but nothing seemed to get rid of the itching. She suggested we see a specialist in Fort Meyers. I didn’t understand what the specialist told Bob, but after the visit, we started taking a new pill and stopped taking those prescribed by Dr. Laurie. The new pill seemed to relieve the itching, but my energy never returned. I could no longer hop up on Bob’s bed, so he got some steps to help me up. I felt embarrassed when I had accidents rather than going outside. Once again, we were seeing Dr. Laurie, who seemed very concerned. We went home for a couple of days, but here we are again with Dr. Laurie. She took me to another room, where she had me bathed, and shaved some hair from my left hind leg. I was scared until she took me back to the room with Bob. He stroked my head and told me it was going to be okay. Now I think I’ll go to sleep.

Duffey with the three Bob Ross’s

Indianapolis

I arrived in Indianapolis for the white Christmas of 2007. Seven inches of snow fell soon after I arrived, and plans to spend part of the holiday in Fort Wayne had to be abandoned. On New Year’s Eve, Pat and I were transported to the airport and flew to Sarasota for a warm and sunny winter in Sarasota. In the spring of 2008, we returned to Pat’s lakeside home in Sylvan Ridge Lakes. There were many advantages for Indianapolis to become my summer home. My granddaughter, Jen, had moved to Indianapolis following her graduation from Indiana University with a degree in sports management. She met and married Brian Bachman and has since had two lovely daughters, Maggie and Paige. Her work in sports management has evolved into a successful career in event planning. Although her work keeps her very busy, we find time to meet for dinners and an occasional cookout. Fort Wayne is about ninety miles, or perhaps ninety minutes, away. Bob has retired after fourteen years as an Allen County judge. He and Kandi frequently travel down I-69 to visit Jen and/or me. Bob’s son, Erik, graduated from IPFW and continues to live in Fort Wayne. His son, Jordan, is a sophomore at Indiana University in Bloomington, and his daughter, Emily, is a high school senior. Erik is divorced from Ellen, who is the mother of Jordan and Emily. The summer of 2008 became the start of a practice of living May through September in Indianapolis and the rest of the year in Sarasota. Soon after our return to Indianapolis in 2008, Pat was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. Successful surgery and radiation treatments took care of the cancer. During the recovery period, Pat’s sister, Rosie, and daughters, Jonna and Anita, were there whenever needed. As the healing progressed, we returned to the practice of competitively working crosswords, cryptoquips, and word jumble puzzles and enjoying the beauty of Sylvan Lake. From Indianapolis, I carried on my duties as treasurer of the Oakhurst Condominium Association by email and phone conferences. In 2016, after a new

aggressive group took charge of the board, I decided to move on. At the request of the new board, I agreed to stay on until the end of my term in 2017. In the interim, I helped to prepare my replacement for the budget and financial planning.

Through The Window Through the window we watched the wizened willow wave with the wind. From inside the window we watched the monarchs enjoy the giant zinnias blooming proudly at the level of our eyes. Without warning one night the weakened willow gave way to the wind and rain to crash onto the house, barely missing the window.

Without the wizened willow the wide waters of Sylvan Lake came into view. Through the window we watch Marvin and Mollie Mallard parade a convoy of fuzzy ducklings until they mature and fly off with the gathering flock. Families of Canada geese stop by on their annual migration. A great blue heron wades in the shallow water to prey on a school of fish. The weeping cherry tree which is a fraction of the weeping willow defines one end of Nita’s bed of peonies, mums and daisies. The other end is anchored by Joe Pye weed who returns each year to engulf the rustic bird feeder.

The zinnias are gone but through the window we see two flowering pots hanging back to back from shepherd hooks. A song sparrow selects a site for a nest among the blooming begonias. Tireless trips bring twigs and leaves to build her birthing boudoir. In time, her mate arrives to share in the watching and waiting. A feeding frenzy erupts as two sparrows fly back and forth with food for five open beaks. At last fuzzy little heads emerge from the depths of the nest. Mother sparrow watches as legs appear and tiny wings begin to flap. One by one wings are tried in flights into the lemon balm and bushes below. Mother sparrow still sits on the hooks. Who knows what a sparrow is thinking. I only know what I see through the window

September 2017

W ith help from Anita, Pat and I took up regular exercise programs at the YMCA throughout the summer. As the time approached for my return to Sarasota, I was in relatively good shape except for recurring sleep problems. Rather than lie sleeplessly awake, I would read in a recliner on the porch and usually fall asleep there. One night at about 3:00 a.m., as I awoke and started to return to the bedroom, I lost my balance and fell against some jagged stones on the fireplace hearth. Later that morning, Jonna took me to an urgent care facility, where several nasty gashes on my arm were treated and bandaged. Pat helped me to continue treatment and bandage my arm until I left the following week when Jen took me to the airport for my trip to Denver. Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that I had decided to visit Ally in Denver for a week en route to Sarasota. (At the time I arrived in Denver, Hurricane Irma arrived in Sarasota. Talk about luck.) I hadn’t seen Ally and her family since their move from London in April. Ally had her hands full with three-month-old Archer and his sisters, Lucy and Maisy. Dave, who has finally adjusted to driving on the right side of the road, is very helpful in caring for the children and sharing the household duties. After the children were in bed, we enjoyed some pleasant evenings. I was overjoyed at arriving home on Sunday, September 17. Hurricane Irma had caused a lot of damage to Oakhurst trees. A large limb fell on my lanai, leaving a torn screen and dented framework. Board , volunteers, and contractors responded very quickly and restored the community to a normal condition. Plans for Pat and her family to spend Christmas in Florida had to change when Nita was found to have breast cancer. (Early diagnosis and successful treatments have resulted in her return to good health.) Pat finally arrived in Sarasota on March 13. On May 1, we traveled to Indianapolis for a summer that included my ninetieth birthday.

Me with the other Bob, Peg, and Kirk

Birthday Dinner at Ruth’s Chris Restaurant

A crowd of familiar faces cheered as Pat and I entered the private dining room. After a lot of hugs and greetings, we were seated around a large banquet table loaded with elegant appetizers. Fortified with a glass of wine, I decided to acknowledge the guests around the table. To my left was Pat, who I introduced as my leading lady. (Most of the guests knew the history of that title.) Next to Pat were my son Bob and his wife, Kandi, who traveled from Fort Wayne for the occasion. Next to Bob sat my niece, Vickie, who together with my brother, Bill, had made the trip from Milwaukee. Continuing around the table, I acknowledged my granddaughter, Jen, who with help from her husband, Brian, had taken the lead in making arrangements with the restaurant. Pat’s daughter, Jonna, and her husband, Erik, came next. (Daughter Anita was unable to attend). Moving around the table, I remarked to Granddaughter Ally’s husband, David Harris that he and I had been together on three different continents. Sitting next to David were my grandson, Erik, and his friend, Wendy. Ally sat between Erik and my son, Kirk, who along with his wife, Sally, had made the trip from Chapel Hill. Completing the circle, sitting next to me was my remarkable daughter, Peg who was the prime mover in making the three-day event come together. (Her husband-Harry had to remain back in Sarasota). Peg, along with sons, Bob and Kirk, sponsored this wonderful dinner. Lively and friendly interactions carried on during a delicious dinner and continued through desserts that included a fancy cake wishing me a “Happy 90th Birthday.” “Happy” could only begin to describe my feelings.

The Big Cookout

T he beautiful landscaping which Jen and Brian had recently installed greeted us as we came up the driveway and continued around the house to where their decks and patios had been set up for a great barbecue party. As usual, Brian manned the grill and offered drinks while Jen prepared and served the food. Several people were added to those who had attended the dinner party the previous evening. Pat’s daughter, Anita, with her husband, Rob, Pat’s sister, Rosie, and her niece, Martha, were now with us. Also ing the party was Erik’s son, Jordan, who is the oldest of my seven great-grandchildren and the youngest Archer at one and a half years old. Bobby’s longtime friend, David Kilpatrick, represented him. Maggie, Lucy, Maisy, and Paige, who are four of my five great-granddaughters, were lovely and vivacious. The quartet sang a delightful, well-rehearsed “Happy Birthday” to me followed by a group hug, which I’ll never forget. This day was the epitome of a wonderful extended family celebration. The professional touches provided by Jen and Brian and the contributions of Ally, Dave, and Erik, and coaching from Peg, created an unforgettable event. Some of the people in attendance met for the first time, and several renewed acquaintances of many years ago. Guests had traveled from Denver, Milwaukee, North Carolina, and Fort Wayne. I was pleased by pleasant interaction among the guests. For example, my brother, Bill, had a nice conversation with Pat’s sister, Rosie, with whom he had been a lifeguard at the Greendale swimming pool seventy years earlier. Missing the party was Bobby, who was finishing his MBA program in Spain, and Erik’s daughter, Emily, who two days later gave birth to Ruth, who is my first great-great-granddaughter. Kirk and Sally drove us back to Pat’s house, where we relaxed and prepared for the cake and ice cream event the next day.

Cake and Ice Cream at Pat’s House

A round Pat’s house, colorful hanging plants and beautifully designed flowerbeds could only begin to show the tireless efforts put in by Anita and Rob in preparation for this day. Inside the house, vases with fresh flowers were arranged in each of the rooms to add to the party atmosphere. Hostesses Pat, Jonna, and Nita were ready with champagne and an array of hors d’oeuvres before the quests arrived at around 3:00 or 4:00 p.m. Some of the guests inspected the flower plantings and watched the ducks on Sylvan Lake before gathering inside. As people found their way into the family room, I started the task of opening numerous birthday cards. Some were funny, all were touching, and each gave the opportunity for conversation. A special gimmick was a very clever crossword puzzle of family facts (and fiction) made up by Rob and Nita. I only had to blow out one candle on the cake. (Lighting the full count may have set off the smoke alarm.) Eating cake and ice cream and enjoying renditions of “Happy Birthday” capped off this unforgettable weekend.