He was one of the Devil Dogs. He had fought in the Pacific campaign; he was the “spear head” for the allied forces against the Japanese in World War II. He was one of the most honored Marines in Texas; there is a Monument with his name on it on Heights Blvd. Houston, Texas. I didn’t know any of that until after he passed away in 1999. When the Marine Corps, gave him a hero’s burial.

I know his heart was broken in pieces when his only son at the time, died in the dreaded Polio epidemic in Houston in 1947; Named after him, a junior, who they just called “Skipper”, only 2 years and a few months old. Dad gave to the Shriner’s Children’s hospital for the rest of his life, a little every year. I don’t think he or Mom ever really “got over it”.

He was an elevator man! In the 50’s and 60’s Houston was booming and we were the middle class America. He built his own home, with his own hands. It lasted 55 years. He wrote a poem of sorts, I found on a paper napkin Mom had kept in a cigar box with some other of her treasures. I had it printed on his funeral program…

My Home by J. A. M.

I believe in my Home
It isn’t a rich Home.
It wouldn’t satisfy some folks, but in it are jewels that couldn’t be purchased in the Markets of the World.
When I enter it’s secret chambers, and shut out the world with it’s cares;
I am lord,

It’s Motto is Service;
It’s Reward is Love;

There is no other spot in all the World which fills it’s place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is strange to find such touching sentiment from a battle hardened Marine, one cut to the core with pain and loss.

I am so glad to have had a Dad who found room for me, his daughter, in his broken heart. I hope my many kisses for him as a little girl, a young woman, the mother of his granddaughter, and the woman who held his hand when his final breath was taken, helped in the healing of such a brave heart.