Desert Grave. (Tomasito photo, 2009)
Pop's Differences
Some years ago my father, Andy (Andrew Staffon) Wold, died of a brain aneurysm in his own little paid-for house on Sky High Drive on a hillside overlooking the Ventura River Valley between Ojai and Ventura, California when I was away on one of my far-flung pilgrimages..
“Pop” was in his early eighties and had lived a simple life as a part-time drummer and an appliance salesman.
He and Mom, Lorene Clayton Wold, had raised us kids, Brother Joe, Brother Jack and myself—the middle son—into adulthood in Los Angeles, Albuquerque, New Mexico and Portland, Oregon.
That's about enough of that background stuff.
What I wanted to put on record is something one of Dad's friends at the Lutheran Church in Ventura said to be about Pop (Andy) when I came back
.
“You know,” he said, “Your Dad was very different in a way--I never heard him say a bad thing about another person."
Odd thing. I had never even noticed this.
An even odder thing was—I had never heard him say anything bad about an other person either—and I had lived with and around him all my life.
Well, once he had said that Reagan should have never been elected president because Ronald was the same age exactly as he was “and that was too old to be president.”
But that was the worst thing I could remember him saying about anybody!
He never swore either—and I never heard him argue with Mom—not even once in all those years!
Now, of course, Pop was human—but by golly he WAS different in those mild and old-fashioned ways.
Tomasito, 2009
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2 comments:
He was a drummer too?- never knew that... and my only recollection of him beyond the smell of a pipe- that always takes me back- was of a kinda dark house in a forest setting- with squirrels out back... and a garage filed with outdoorsy stuff... like a canoe hanging from the ceiling?...
just a general feel of the Pacific North west... perhaps an ingrained reason that I always fancy moving there...
When Hawaii finally is taken over by only the very wealthiest... and a fellow like myself can't afford to be here.
Hello, Paul;
Yes Andy was a drummer and a very fine one--with the smoothest "roll" I ever heard. He was a also a very funny man who could make people laugh--with a very straight "Norwegian" type of humor--and he was well-liked by a lot of people.
He appreciated good drumming--men like Gene Krupa, in his day, but he was not a "flashy" drummer himself.
Me told me once that he thought a drummer should be "felt" more than heard--which was more his way. And I understand more about this approach to music now than I have in the past.
So sorry about Hawaii--but it seems that this civilization controlled by the most greedy will always destroy everything beautiful--but of course, the wealthiest will always need servants...
Thanks for your comment. TW
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