My father William

This is a blog about my father, William Foster Gillian and the legends he created during his life. We, the children have such great memories of an amazing life, because of him and my mother, Virginia Rose Gruszka Gillian. I want to tell of the stories and folktales of my family, for we have no next generation. I hope I can do justice to my father, for he was an amazing story teller. Thank you for your precious time spent reading this blog!

Location: United States

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Where to now?!

I have been trying to figure out how to proceed from the first entry. Do I just tell scattered stories, as the pop up from my memory, or do I go for chronological order. This has delayed my second post for a while now, but I have reached a compromise. Compromises are always good, I feel. I will go in order, until all the major players are introduced (i.e. the children, mother, and some of the relatives), and then I will jump around a little bit.

My sister Carrie, who is 10 years older than me (I am 43 years old this month), emailed me about a mistake in the first entry. My Aunt Myrna was really my father's younger sibling. This error was not due to forgetfulness, but due to tall tales told by my father. He was a GREAT story teller, always the life of the party. I will always let you know when a story is a tale versus a real event. I promise you, when you read some of the real events, you will think them tall tales, but I promise they are non-fiction. Because of our father, we have led amazing lives as children. No, we were not rich nor famous, but we saw and did things few children get a chance to do with their parents.

Well, back to Aunt Myrna Jean Gillian Carpenter. When I was young and cute, I was the apple of my father's eye (avoid typing "favorite" to avoid sibling conflict!?!). Grandmother Gillian (Noran Edith Snieder Gillian) always played favorites with her two children. She lived with Aunt Myrna, who was married to Bennie F. Carpenter M.D., and resided in Crown Point IN. Whenever she visited us in Hammond, she would always pick on father. Since I was the "apple", I was picked upon as well. She would tease me about my father and I would defend him. My Grandmother Edith (what she liked to be called), was not malicious, but just loved to stir the pot up! Myrna this and Myrna that she would say, as she knitted away drinking spiked tea. After she left, I asked my father why grandmother treated him so. Our mother did not act that way to her children, for she loved them all equally. I just could not wrap my little mind around the concept of mothers not being nice to their children. My father said it always was that way growing up, since Myrna was the first born, she was the favorite. She had a pet dog, while he was only allowed to have a pet ant. He told me how my aunt killed his ant one day in the alley. I know many of you are thinking of the old joke based on the Pink Panther, but this pre-dated that joke by a number of years. She had a bike and he had to walk. She had shoes, and he had none. She ate at the table and he ate with the dog. She had toys, and he had a log. At christmas, she got gifts, and he got the wrapping paper from them. So, over the years, I just never had any reason to question these tales, nor the age of my Aunt. When she passed away from liver cancer, I found out her real age, in relationship to my father. When I asked him about it, he just grinned. He had forgotten about the tales, and it brought back some fond memories for him of his mother and sister.

Where to now? Well the next entry will start with my father as a young man, set-up on a blind date...


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