I lived in Seattle for about twelve and a half years, and until this endless stint in Woodbridge, that was the longest ever. That is where I grew up. This piece tells about how my first family arrived and the early times there.
We drove from Albuquerque in the silver Fury III, with Teufel sharing space in the back seat, stopping to see the spectacular views that the Grand Canyon and the Petrified Forest offer the lucky visitor in Arizona. Next we zipped into California and headed north, eventually hitting Bakersfield the town Dad was born in, and needing to stop near there to get the car's thermostat replaced. We stopped to see Redwood National Forest, and those magnificent trees still fascinate me and lift my spirit. Their massive size, and mere existence was somehow so impressive that to this day they stand out as beacons of how wonderful nature is. I do not recall much about Oregon, nor southern Washington, on that trip beyond the greenness of those areas. When we first arrived in Seattle, we stayed with the Schmidts, who were the last set of Mom's "parents". Recall that her biological Mom had died in an accident at their farm, her Dad had remarried, then he died in a USSR concentration camp after WW II, and she remarried. We were told to call Mrs. Schmidt Oma and Mr. Schmidt Vetter, as befitted their status. Sis and I practiced the "Vetter" which was a new word to us and he heard us and may have been offended since it sounds like the German word for "fat person" but nothing was said and so hopefully he did not take offense. They were nice, but I never sensed the amazing warmth and love that was a constant part of dealing with the Bayers, and I was not sad when Mom and Dad told Sis and I that we were moving to our new home north of the Seattle city limits.
As noted previously, Dad was never to work again after his stint as a construction worker in Albuquerque. The PTSD, as I now believe it to be, the lifelong effects of those years of abuse at the hands of the Japanese, was just to much for him. So we ended up renting a 900+ square foot home in a working class area a few miles out of Seattle using his retirement income. Three bedroom, one bathroom, two car carport, center home of three in a row behind the street. 17829 Wallingford Ave N, Seattle WA, 98133, was in the Shoreline School district and at the time the schools were probably pretty good compared to most in the US although maybe not great. Three years of junior high school, four of high school, then a mixed-up path through college that I will cover later and off to my Air Force career.
I had middle school at Einstein Junior High, where I remember few teachers. One of these was an art teacher who I recall only because of the plaster of paris sculptures we made in a one week or so segment of class, and the discussion we had when I suggested that modern so-called art was not really anywhere nearly as great as painting "real" pictures that did not allow one to simply splash paint around but rather captured a real image of a scene or person. She countered that the modern art was just as good and even as difficult to create, a viewpoint that made no sense even to my young mind and is eminently cringe-worthy to this day. The sculpture work started with us filling a milk carton with plaster and letting it dry, than making whatever we wanted out of it. With little teaching from her I was not going to follow Michelangelo as a great sculptor but I'm sure she did the best she could. In the academic classes I was not a fantastic student despite still being ahead in some subjects from my Wernau schooling, such as biology which Seattle schools did not touch until high school, but did better than most which actually meant something in those days, because grades really did have to be earned which is something that is not obvious today from much anecdotal evidence. Unfortunately I was a somewhat lazy student, although a good one, so unless a topic interested me, or was fairly easy, I might not have tried as hard as I should have. Mom and Dad kept on Sis and me to do well in school, and for that I thank them since without their pushing what little success I have would have certainly been less. This was just another example of how true wisdom is seldom found in the young. Other classes that I recall, although vaguely, included math, english, and some state history.
I had a few friends during this time, but I was not one of the popular kids, nor was I a jock. The friends included Gregg Parrott who later went into the Army before transitioning into the Air Force at which time I lost track of him. Marc Wilson, later a standout as quarterback at BYU who made a career in the NFL was another friend. I was an introvert, and add to that our lack of money the combination kept me from having much of a social life beyond school, except for the few kids who traded visits back and forth with me, and Boy Scouts and later Civil Air Patrol. At first I enjoyed Scouts, the meetings, having Dad around, but within a year or so I drifted away from them. In those years there were no popcorn or mulch sales, but we had one businessman who brought a huge number of cargo tie-down ropes to those who were interested and we could make a few cents each for tying them in a designated way. I did some, than was bored with it and despite Dad noting that this was an easy way to get money for fun activities I could just not get into it, and soon after I quit both the rope tying and Scouts.
When I was 13 or 14 I joined Civil Air Patrol, the civilian auxiliary to the Air Force. CAP became my center for social activities until I went active duty. From the start, I knew that this was a place I belonged. The light military discipline, the shared goals of developing good citizens, flying, and - in the Washington Wing though not in most other wings for Cadets - Search and Rescue gave me goals to share with others who would not try and mess with the shy kid. I believe that this experience may have helped my already somewhat formed desire to make the Air Force a career. And I had some real, although sadly long lost, friends in CAP. Senior Members Chesley Stevenson and Red (I forget his last name but he was a wonderful man who took training very seriously), Greg P, Anita Baker, Joleen Hurley, Mark, and a host of others who made CAP a life-highlight helped cure at least some of my shyness and gave me confidence. What was it like? I joined the Ed Hauter Composite Squadron. Or at least that is the one I thought I belonged to ... looking it up leads to a brief history that includes an airport during the time I was there which I do not recall but perhaps those details are not important. We met once a week, had inspection to check if the Cadets were "in regs" for personal appearance and uniforms, had classes on any number of topics and some activity. Once a month those who were interested went to train for a weekend to support search and rescue operations, taking classes in disciplines such as Land Search and Rescue (for those wanting to hike a lot, learning how to conduct a search for missing aircraft and people), Communications (how to use radio to support, we had Citizens Band radios as well as those on aircraft and we all had our government certification before we could go on the air during a SAR mission), and my favorite, Flight Line Operations (how to guide and service the light aircraft CAP uses for SAR, including fueling and guiding them while they were on the ground). The training weekends started when we boarded the old bus and drove for what seems to have been an hour or more to some old buildings deep in the forest. We had class in whatever specialty we were getting certified for during most of the day, and our dues paid for meals cooked by senior staff with plenty of Cadet help. We slept in old barracks at the training site, and had watch duty much like in those days in the military. Those were some of the best times in my young life. Eventually I participated in several searches, not only looking for survivors from crashed aircraft but also for lost people, and for several days looking for remains from serial killer Ted Bundy's victims in the forest.
Due to our shortage of money, I could not afford to learn how to fly, because even though CAP members would have donated their time to teach, the cost to fuel and maintain even a small aircraft would have been to much. But I learned a lot about the physics of flight, aviation history, and other topics that kept my desire to be around airplanes strong. Also, Greg P. earned his wings and took me flying a few times. Big joy! We flew over ships in Puget Sound and the nearby cities and forests. It also made the idea of being in the military an even better goal than before. I enjoyed my time in that fantastic organization through much of college, and valued it greatly. Thank you, CAP.
I never thought of my family as poor. Yes, others had more things, but we always had food, clothes, and a roof and love from the family. Mom and Dad were always there, helping as needed to get us through the rough parts of growing up, providing perspective as good and bad things happened. Pushing when we started to slack off. Sis and I wore clothing until we outgrew it, meaning that there were some patched jeans that Mom kept serviceable and some tennis shoes that were fairly well worn down before they were replaced, but nothing needed was missing in our lives. By now the weekend trips were mostly a thing of the past, something I now wish had not stopped but at the time perhaps I would not have even wanted. I did odd jobs, babysitting and - as I had in Albuquerque - housesitting for people on vacation. A few times Mom and Dad borrowed from my account to buy food, and at the time I was upset about that. I wonder if I would have preferred hunger? <sarcasm> But overall, as long as you have the basics (food, home, clothes, a way to control the environment, a path to improve) and the love and efforts of family you are fine. Dad and Mom let us know that right was right and wrong was wrong, that we needed to be responsible for our actions, and well behaved. It was right to work hard for what you wanted, it was wrong to force others to give of their labor for you to have what you wanted. So we took no welfare, which to this day is a scourge on the USA as it is implemented. They taught that in this country you can create opportunity through persistent effort, a truth which continues to this day, although it is made much more difficult by the huge national government that stifles individual effort in order to grow even larger, to take even more prominence. Perhaps some day I will do a piece on this, but enough for now. Bottom line: The USA is, in many ways, the best country in the world for opportunity of the individual to make something of his or her life. That was a given in my father's house, and I believe that to this day.
Dad met his best friend from his early Service, Mr. Bryce Lilly, and joined either or both the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion. Apparently it was a totally fortuitous meeting. Mr. Lilly was interviewed by a newspaper, and Dad read the article and decided to call him up thinking that he was his old friend. After that, the Lilly family came to visit many times and we visited them several times. I recall the whole family as being wonderful people and am glad to have met them and to still maintain Facebook contact with his "kids" Shauna and Keith.
To summarize, although poor, with the great parents I had I usually felt at the top of the world. High school did not change that, and that will start the next Family History
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