Mommandad on their Wedding Day    –    The world’s oldest surviving McDonald’s

My Real Memoir

Even when my father wasn’t there, he was there. He was the gravity that kept us from flying off into oblivion. Which is to say, into the sort of poverty he and Mom had endured during the Great Depression. But he was out for more than mere security. Dad was ambitious to a fault. He was determined to attain all a man could attain in life, and take Mom and me with him. Mom went gleefully. I went with a blend of pride and fear. Why? Because he was determined (at the sagely age of 20-something) that I attain all I should attain as well. So his affection always seemed to have strings attached.

WWII Had Ended Before Dad Got There

Nevertheless, he was proud of his Marine Corps training. And so, when I turned five, he bestowed upon me the incomparable benefits of his boot camp experience. (“Oorah!”) He woke me up by singing reveille in my ear at 6 a.m. And if I didn’t respond immediately, he splashed water in my face, and shouted, “Up and at ‘em!” I failed. (Mom let me go back to sleep after he left for work.) He also showed me how to make my bed so drumhead-tight he could “bounce a quarter off it!” I failed. (Mom remade it later.)

Still, Dad made me laugh, too. A lot. And he taught me how to do things, sometimes perfectly, sometimes not. Like when he bought me a boomerang and insisted on first showing me how to throw it. I never saw it again. (Presumably, it made its way back to Australia). I was disappointed, but secretly glad he too could fail at something.

Our First Little Home…

…had a tiny “grove” of baby orange trees. It was doubtful they’d survive the winter, but Dad was committed! He fertilized them, staked them to make them grow straight, and threw lots of water at them (“Up and at ‘em!”).

So, I decided to reward him for his efforts by gathering up all the “ripe” oranges that had fallen to the ground (they were rotting, but what did I know?), and proudly presenting them to Dad. He seemed confused at first, but then smiled, and said, “Thank you, son.” And I knew I’d done well. Only years later did I realize everything I gave him—the oranges, the box I put them in, even the used card—already belonged to him.

I Wasn’t the Only One…

…to reward Dad for his efforts. The moment he’d gotten his driver’s license back, the Herald-Express offered him a newspaper dealership in a squeaky new suburb on the outer edge of Los Angeles County.

A month later, Mommandad took me to our favorite bistro, a little one-of-a-kind hamburger stand called “McDonald’s.” (The McDonald’s in Downey, California, was only the second one ever built). After numbing me with a chocolate shake, Dad announced, “Well, we’ve sold our home!” I blinked uncomprehendingly. “This is big, honey,” Mom added, “our lives are going to change!” And how right she was. Few things change kids as much as moving. And their parents too.

Dad’s eyes had a light in them I’d never seen before.