Remembering Dad: Residents share memories of the men who raised them

The LW Weekly invited residents to share cherished memories of their fathers in celebration of Father’s Day. Below is a compilation of those submissions.

He was a bridge-builder.

When my father died, a friend of mine asked me a very thought-provoking question: “What is your fondest memory of your father?“ As I considered many significant life events, one stood above the others.

In 1969, a Hispanic family had just moved into our neighborhood. They were immediately shunned. By contrast, my dad walked down to their house and invited them to go water skiing with us. We spent the day together at a local lake having a wonderful time. When we returned from a day at the lake, it was in full view of the other neighbors.

My dad’s bold effort to build a bridge of kindness completely reversed their acceptance in the neighborhood.

—Rod Sims, Mutual 10

He loved dancing.

As a young boy, Allen Mac-Donald, my father, was sent to an orphan farm as his father abandoned the family. When he boarded a train with other kids heading for the farms in Wisconsin and Dakotas, he only had his wits and courage to get him by. A kind, hard-working family chose him.

I imagine that on the farm he learned hard work, responsibility and compassion because those are characteristics he held his whole life. As a young man he sought opportunity and wasn’t afraid where it took him. It led him to train hopping looking for adventure and jobs. Opportunity took him to dizzying heights when he worked as a steel worker. He worked hard and found time to play hard. He played catch endlessly with his three sons and hauled his daughter and friends to the mountains and beaches.

Mostly he loved to dance with my mother on a dance floor or on an ice rink. He joined the Navy and served in San Diego during World War II. We left Peoria, Illinois, and moved to sunny Long Beach to better provide for his four kids and wife. In 1955, he opened Mac’s Life Gate as a “small business owner.” Dad made it clear that more important than making money were ethics, respect for the customer and sacrifice for those in need.

Today the business thrives both economically and ethically. His next adventure was moving into Leisure World in 1979. It became his home for 26 years where he loved golf and dancing and, at age 92, got a citation from GRF Security for roller blading on St. Andrews Drive during the 40th anniversary parade.

I remember Dad with gratitude for his good example of loving God, his country and valuing family and friends.

—Margie MacDonald Thompson, Mutual 11 —————————————

He gave us wealth in character and faith.

Donald Chamberlain entered the world into a “family situation” that was confused and never gave him the nurturing that a child needed. It is a complicated story, understood only now, many years after his passing, thanks to ancestry tools.

My sister and I have been able to put together fragments of a puzzle and see just a bit of his life story. I did not understand this man during my growing up years. Now, with some level of knowledge, I love him deeply for choosing to rise above things that he had no control over, and become a soldier in World War II in the China Burma India theater. He came back to the United States with nothing, and created a marriage that lasted his lifetime, and gave his three children, I, the middle one, a safe home.

He didn’t have great material possessions, but his faith in Jesus Christ and his daily choices to provide for his family with all of his might, gave us all wealth unimaginable in character, and in our own life of faith. So, my story is a bit different maybe, but filled with love and gratitude to my dad, Don Chamberlain. I hope that I reflect a bit of your heart, Dad. Happy Father’s Day. —Lori Chamberlain, Mutual 12

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He loved baseball.

Saturday night was ladies night at Dodger Stadium in the l960s. Ladies got in for 50 cents. Several times during the season we would go to the game on a Saturday night. To save money, mom packed a picnic dinner. She cooked hot dogs at home; put them in a thermos to keep them hot and packed buns, mustard, onions and relish. We watched the game from the top level of the stadium eating the original version of the “Dodger dog.” These nights were magical.

I discovered boys at the age of 16. And they discovered me. I was a girl who loved baseball, understood the game and knew the players. Thanks, Dad.

My Dad died suddenly Christmas night, 1986. He was only 66. My heart was broken. That first season of baseball in 1987 without Dad was not the same. The magic was gone.

Then, one night in October 1988, I was home watching the World Series on TV. The Dodgers were playing the Oakland A’s. It was the bottom of the ninth and Oakland was ahead 4-3. The Dodgers were up with two outs and one man on base. As a last-ditch effort, Tommy Lasorda sent an ageing, limping Kirk Gibson to the plate. Gibby took the count to 3 and 2 and no one at the stadium or in living rooms across Los Angeles could breathe. And then it happened. The homerun. I jumped out of the chair, screaming and jumping for joy. I watched Gibby run those bases, limping, but with a smile that lit up the stadium. It was quite a while before the euphoria of the moment subsided at the stadium and in my living room. When it did, I thought about my dad and smiled. Gee, how he would have loved this moment.

—Susan Hopewell, Mutual 6

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He offered me leadership and perspective.

This Father’s Day, I am reflecting on my dad, Paul Edward “Ed” Hughes, a man who spent his life teaching, coaching, and leading by example.

Born in 1926, he served in the Army Air Corps during World War II, became an All-American

FATHER'S DAY, page 6

Infant Lori Chamberlain, Mutual 12 resident, and her father Donald at the pool. lacrosse player at Loyola, and earned his master’s from the University of Pennsylvania. For 34 years, he was a pillar of the Tower Hill School in Delaware, serving as history department chair, dean and a renowned head basketball coach. He was an award-winning educational author and also founded the nationally recognized Junior Humanities Program for gifted inner-city students. Later in life, he dedicated his time to public service, serving three terms on the city council in Sunset Beach, North Carolina.

Beyond the classroom and the basketball court, Dad was my ultimate guide to navigating life. He taught me a few simple, non-negotiable rules that I still carry with me every day: 1. Filter the Noise: He taught me how to distinguish between what is truly important and what is simply a distraction.

2. Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: In a world full of daily pressures, he constantly reminded me not to worry so much. He possessed the rare gift of perspective.

3. Universal Respect: He fiercely believed in treating absolutely everyone with dignity and respect, regardless of who they were or where they came from. Near the end of his life, I asked him again what really mattered; interestingly, it was connections and community.

He loved a tough crossword puzzle, a good steak, and hitting the links with his golfing buddies. He was a devoted husband to my mom, Jody, for 54 years, and a father who left an indelible mark on his children and grandchildren.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Your whistle has blown, but your playbook lives on.

—Mark Hughes, Mutual 2

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When he became a citizen, he celebrated with hot dogs and apple pie.

My beloved Dad, Allen Teng Fong, was a wonderful man. Born and raised on mainland China, at the age of 22, he bought the U.S. immigration papers of a deceased man. He came to San Francisco, the city that the Chinese then called “Gold Mountain,” after the Gold Rush. In the 1940s, there was an official period of amnesty; Dad confessed, was granted permanent residency, and changed his name back to his real name.

At first, being uneducated, Dad worked on a farm, while learning English. He then operated a lottery in Chinatown San Francisco. Upon qualifying, he took the test and proudly became an American citizen. He and Mom celebrated by buying a small flag and going out to have hot dogs and apple pie. The remainder of his work life, he had partial or full ownership of independent grocery stores and worked there.

They had us four kids. They traveled all over the country to graduations of their grandkids from Ivy League colleges. One of their grandsons (my son) became an American ambassador. They were very proud of their descendants, and we were even prouder of them.

While I was growing up, Dad taught me the philosophy of setting our sights on high goals and to “go for it.” I, my siblings, kids, and grandkids have followed this wise advice.

—Allena Kaplan, Mutual 2

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He had highs and lows.

Life with father had its ups and downs. It can be a challenge, especially for boys. Life with my father was a roller coaster ride. Yet, as I think about him—each Father’s Day and every day—I am grateful for the scary, wonderful, exhilarating ride I had with my dad. His erratic behavior, characterized by wide mood swings, was a mystery to my older brother David and me. For months at a time, he would exhibit great energy and excitement about life. Then, for a similar period, he would be depressed and barely able to function. Years later, Dad was diagnosed as bipolar. In the 1970s, lithium eventually saved him from the wide mood swings that had complicated his life and ours.

I remember a Christmas morning when Dad was so low, Mother had to send us boys into the bedroom to encourage him to join the family to open presents. When he was feeling high, nothing seemed impossible. A workman wanted what Dad considered an outrageous price to cut a doorway through a thick adobe wall in our house. Dad took a chisel and hammer and did the work himself. It took all day, but he got the job done. He spent the next three days in bed recovering!

Both of my parents were doctors. They cared a lot about their patients. They would adjust their fees to little or nothing for someone who was poor. In a half-century of joint medical practice, they never used a collection service. A patient was billed for three months and no longer. Once, a woman asked my father to deliver her first child. Dad checked his records and said, “I’ll be glad to help as soon as you pay for your own delivery.” Embarrassed, the woman asked how much he received for a delivery when she was born. Dad said proudly, “Twenty-five dollars.” She promptly wrote a check for $100 to pay for her own delivery, plus “a little interest.”

Although they would have preferred for us to have been ordained in their American Baptist tradition, our parents were proud of my brother and me when we became Episcopal priests. Once, when I was about to speak at a civil rights rally, a worried team member came to report a man in the front row hiding a bulky tape recorder under his overcoat. The suspiciouslooking man was my father.

The church was filled for Dad’s funeral at the end of a long life. In spite of his demons, he was quite a guy. I hope my three sons will remember me that way.

—Fred Fenton, Mutual 12

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To our Dad and Papa: David LaCascia of Mutual 4

From sitting with us at the kitchen table trying to teach us math (2+2=5, right?), to not knowing or playing dumb when we snuck out and “borrowed” your car, to your scary infatuation with Star Trek reruns and NASCAR, to practice naps and tickle monsters, to showing us Poltergeist when we were wayyyy too young (nope, no trauma to unpack there), to demonstrating the “correct” way to fold laundry (it’s not the only way!), to finally wearing short socks, to yelling at our feet to WAKE UP when they fell asleep, to frickin’ chicken dinners, to moving all over the place, to being an awesome grandpa, to showing up to all the games and meets no matter how awful they were probably going to be, to your traffic and weather reports from wherever you are, were, or are going, to always having a spare tissue in your pocket, to not being too upset when three-fourths of your grandkids got taller than you, to mimosas on Christmas morning, to pizza and froyo on Friday nights, to holding our hands through the great, the good, and the pretty damn awful—no one Dads better than you!

Happy Father’s Day to the best Dad and Papa anyone could ask for. We know you love us more than duct tape. We love you, —Jamie, Jeff, Eric and Ally Shea; and Kelly, Kyle, Sami and Cooper Murphy —————————————

The first thing you’d notice was his smile and funny wit.

My father, Charles Wade of Mutual 7, is a great role model. He is the strongest, kindest, happiest person I know. I have never seen him lose his temper, curse or drink alcohol in my life. He believes in God, has great faith and a positive attitude. The first thing you see when you meet my Dad is a big smile and funny wit. His weekly ritual is singing at church and at nursing home facility to put a smile on those less fortunate.

I am one of three children. He has always treated us even. As a child growing up, I remember my Dad coming home from work. We would all have dinner and discuss the day’s activity. Then he would spend time with us in the backyard pool.

On vacation we always stayed at a hotel that had a pool and he would swim with us until our fingers were pruned. I am so blessed my father is still alive and lives here in Leisure World. All his neighbors are known by first names and come with smiles. My Dad is a caregiver who takes care of my Mom, his wife. He cooks, helps her with all her activities of daily life. He is always so kind, thoughtful and keeps her smiling while holding her hands and says, “I love you.”

If everyone had a Dad like my father, this world would be a different and better place. My father is the major influence of who I am today.

—Pam Baker, Mutual 11

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He was my inspiration.

My Dad, Melvin Cordova, is my hero, my inspiration, and human extraordinaire. Dad was drafted while in high school. With his cousin’s assistance they postponed his report date to allow him to complete graduation requirements but not enough time to actually attend his graduation. Instead, he was off to Parris Island for basic training followed by medical training. He was stationed in San Diego. He spent his career advocating for students and their education. His teaching career started in Pecos, New Mexico, after completing his degree at the University of New Mexico. He progressed to principal of Northern New Mexico College in El Rito, New Mexico. This was followed by positions of principal and then superintendent of Cuba schools where he implemented educational theories before they were mainstream. At one point he was president of the National Association of Secondary School Principals.

Not one to take the easy road, he and his wife, Consuelo (Mirabal), had nine children and with careful planning managed to get all nine through a minimum of four years of college. At the time of his death, they were four months short of their 70th anniversary. It is not possible to relate the caliber of person Dad was. His life was a shining example for all who came in contact with him.

—Joan Cordova, Mutual 10

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He worked around the clock but still managed to sing and read the Bible to us.

My father, Wilmer Hartman, was born in Corsica, South Dakota, in 1910, the third child of 10. My family moved to Whittier, California, in 1920. Dad graduated Whittier High School in 1928 and moved to a small farm in Victorville in 1929. He had a personal relationship with Jesus and was born again and saved at age 21. He married Effie Saul from Covina in 1934. I was born fourth of six—all home deliveries. Dad farmed for grandpa Hartman at Stoddard Jess Ranch and bought 95 acres in Apple Valley, where we grew and worked—mowing, raking, baling alfalfa, milking cows, etc. Dad taught us to love God, family, work, food, friends, fellowship, travel, earning and more. Mom always cooked and fed extra people—like missionaries or airmen from George Air Force Base who visited the Full Gospel Church were Grandpa pastored. Dad worked around the clock every summer with little sleep but always prayed and sang with us and read the Bible to us. He was the song leader and Mom played the piano at church. He had lots of family still living in South Dakota—Gruenewald’s and Hartman’s—and stayed in touch with them by phone, letters or traveling by car throughout his life. We thank God for a thankful and loving father who lived on earth for 77 years. —Marge McDonald, Mutual 15

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He was my rock. I miss him.

My dad, Mario Octavio Medrano, was born in Cuba and was the second youngest of seven boys. He was the strongest and most handsome of his brothers, in my opinion.

At age 19, he came to the United States and settled in New York where he shortly after met my mother, also Cuban born. They were married six months later. My sister and I were born in New York and moved to Miami when I was 3. My dad worked many different jobs while we were growing up. His passion, however, was cooking, and he was a chef for a brief time. He hoped to one day open up a Cuban restaurant, which never happened.

My dad was physically strong until he started having health issues with his heart and kidneys. He was very intelligent and had hopes and dreams that were cut short because of his illness.

He was a fighter, a hard worker who would do anything and everything for his family! He was a very loving husband and father. He was my rock.

Dad, I miss your love, your warmth, your smile and humor. Mostly I miss being able to tell you anything without anger or judgement. Till we meet again, your Princess Diana.

—Diana Costa, Mutual 11

Consuelo "Mirabal" and Melvin Cordova, parents of Mutual 15's Marge Cordova, on a trip to India

Allen Teng Fong, father ofMutual 2's Allena Kaplan