Brad\'s Bobeche Blog

November 11, 2006. Veterans Day

My dad, Clarence “Clark” Gunner Johnson, passed away last night at 5:05 PM in San Clemente California. Dad would have been 90 on January 10^th. The last few months had been hard on Dad as he suffered from alzheimer’s. He had a little TIA about five months ago and went into a nursing home and then an assisted care facility. On Thursday he had what we thought was another TIA, unfortunately it turned out to be a full stroke and on Friday morning my Mom was told he didn’t have much time left.

The photo was taken last March 15^th when June and the kids came to California for Chelsea and Scott’s wedding shower. I chose this photo to post because it says so much about my Dad. I wish he was giving his big smile because he had the most charming smile; he was a very charming man. The paper he’s holding could be a poem he’s written. He was a poet and the inventor of the picto-poem. He would publish his poems on top a photo that helped invoke the mood of the poem. He wrote many poems about his family and his love for my mom. He also loved to take on historical events and capture them in the way only a poet can. His epic poem was about the U-532, the German sub that the Americans captured in WW2 and he helped restore.

He was very proud of his country and most proud of being able to help secure our freedom in WW2. Take a good look at the bookshelf in the photo and you’ll see that there is a book about General Custer. All of American history fascinated him. I think he read just about every book about the General; he was very pro Custer and had no use for the movies that vilified him.

Take a closer look at the photo and you’ll see a cup with a few pencils in it. Those pencils were there for his crossword puzzles and just in case inspiration hit and he came up with the next line of the poem he was working on. We often talk about his trips to visit us in Texas and Kansas and how he needed to have a pencil next to every possible chair he would sit in. Those of you who know June know that that type of clutter is very hard on her, however, in the battle of pencils my Dad won and June got used to his pencils scattered around the house, and we are both sad we won’t have him to scatter those pencils again.

Dad loved his coffee. Next to his pencil would be a cup of coffee. I’m sure there is a half drunk cup on the little table to his right – just out of view of the photo. When Dad would visit he needed his coffee paraphernalia just so. The jar of instant coffee, the spoon and the creamer needed to sit on the counter, never in the cupboard, so he could get it quickly. This too drove June nuts, but just like the pencils, Dad won that battle and we got used to the cluttered coffee accessories out when Dad visited. We’re going to miss that stuff out of place.

I can’t find it in the picture, but always close at hand was the TV remote control. As Dad’s hearing started to fade the volume got louder. Dad was always great at changing the channel as soon as everyone else got interested in whatever was being watched. After a while we all got used to not taking interest in what was on, because it would soon change. Of course he wouldn’t change the channel if it were a cowboy movie or if he was lucky enough to stumble upon an old Eddie Nelson and Jeannette MacDonald movie.

In the Navy he learned the skill of welding and turned that into a lifelong career in the Welding supply business. In 1950, he became a welding supply salesman and in 1954 he opened his own business, California Welding Supply. A couple of years latter for legal reasons he changed the name of the business to Far West Welding Supply. I was honored to work there as young boy and my dad let me start “waiting on” customers when I was 13. I learned a lot of my skills as a salesman from my dad and those early experiences.

In the middle of the top shelf you can see a blue and red book titled Koufax. I gave that book to him for Christmas a couple of years ago. As a very young boy I developed a love of baseball. Dad helped me develop that love. As soon as he’d get home from work I would start “bugging” him to go out and play catch with me. He always would, usually after dinner. It wasn’t until I became a father that I realized how sore an old man’s arm can get – but it’s a good sore. Dad bought season tickets to the Dodgers, he said it was to pass out to customers. I’m sure that those tickets helped his business, but he also knew that his “number one son” liked to go to the games. One game we went to together was Koufax’s perfect game. The book on his self tells the story of that game and of Koufax’s career and life. I’m not sure if Dad ever read it but I know he liked having it there.

The picture was taken in my folk’s house in San Clemente California. They moved there about 20 years ago after a lifetime in Downey, California. Dad is setting in his recliner; to me the expression on his face is one of anticipation. He always cherished the future and celebrated the past. When I think of the different recliners that have been stationed in Dad’s corner I remember the one that he sat in and coached Chelsea with her diction. Chelsea was about 3 or 4 and had a lot of trouble with her pronunciation. Dad would say a word and Chelsea would try to repeat the sounds correctly, when she was successful Dad would reward her with an M&M. Dad loved all his grandchildren, Rick, John and Travis were very special; but Chelsea melted his heart. Kind of like the M&Ms, “Melt in your heart, not in your hands.”

As I said earlier, this photo was taken this year. Dad sure doesn’t look 89 years old does he? When he was 18 he started working out with weights and worked out every other day until he was in his early 80’s; and then he started a light work out every day. When I was somewhere in my late 20’s and Dad was a couple of years older than I’m now, I remember dropping in on him at the True Avenue house and he was doing his daily workout and tossing some hand weights over his head alternating between left and right in rapid succession. He placed the dumbbells down and was barley winded after a set of about 10. I picked up the weights and attempted to imitate the routine he had just completed. I struggled to even get my left arm fully extended over my head. Those workouts were good for him and helped him have a good quality of life.

If you look closely at the bookshelf you’ll see there are a couple of books by his first cousin Glenn T. Seaborg. You can’t blame Dad for being proud of having Glenn for a cousin; not many families have a Nobel Prize winning Atomic Physicists as a member. One of my fondest childhood memories is the trip we took on the train in 1962 to visit the Seaborgs in Washington when Glenn was chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission. Dad was so pleased to show us around the Capital and further our education on American history.

There is the beginning of a smile on Dad’s face in this photo. He always loved a joke, and he never minded that many of mine had him as the recipient. On Sunday when I see him for the last time at the viewing I have a “Reagan for President” button I plan to pin on his lapel. Dad placed Reagan up there with Washington and Lincoln as one of our all-time great presidents. Many of you know that this was one of the things we agreed to disagree about. I’ve thought that for my final joke I’d pin a “Carter – Mondale” button on his lapel instead, even though I know Dad would laugh, I think he’d be happier with the Reagan button.

When I look at the photo I also see a sparkle of delight in his eyes. There were so many things that delighted him. High on the list was a trip to Knott’s Berry Farm. He loved his fried chicken. We started going to Knott’s when I was very young. Dad’s order was always the same, of course when we started going there was no menu and no choice other than dark or light meat. We would get our extra rolls and pickles and sometimes a scoop of ice cream on our boysenberry pie. Those Sunday afternoon lunches at Knott’s will always be special to me.

Of course the centerpiece of the photo is my Dad himself. The only thing he was more proud of than his country was his family. When I think of all the things that each of his children inherited from dad, one overriding thing comes to my mind for each of us. Marguerite somehow inherited his fear of flying. Dad always said, “Birds don’t sell welding supplies and I don’t fly.” I guess it was a deal they had with each other. Carol inherited his entrepreneurial spirit. Dad started 3 different businesses and was always thinking of other opportunities. Glennn got Dad’s “Silver Tongue” and love of football. Probably the saddest day of my Dad’s life that didn’t involve a real tragedy was the day the Ram’s moved to St Louis. And me; just look at the picture; I’m sure you can see what I got.

It might not fit my theology, but today I want to picture heaven like you see it the movies with all the white clouds and the big pearly gates. I see Dad walking up to the gates with his best suit on and the Reagan button on is lapel and Saint Peter opening the gates for my dad and telling him to enjoy. Dad would stand there for a minute the way he does when he is thinking about his next step. He’d be thinking “Maybe I’d better go look up Cliff, he’s been here for a couple of weeks, I’m sure he knows all the best golf courses by now and he can’t get a hole in one, even in heaven unless I’m playing with him.” He’d look around a little more and think, “Maybe I should go see Big Beans (Uncle Al) and challenge him to a taco eating contest. But I need to go see Vic; there is a lot of football we need to discuss. And Fudge, Fudge is probably waiting to go to a lodge meeting with me; I wonder where Jack and Fred are, I need to see them too. And I got a lot of Navy buddies here; I’m sure some of them would have made it.” He’d think a little more about his life and decide, “First thing I want to do is see Glenna.”

Just as he’d decide that out of a nearby cloud little Glenna would run to Dad and jump into his arms and say, “Daddy, I missed you.”

Big Buffalo I miss you too, but I’m glad you can once again hold my baby sister in your arms.