My dad was a simple man with a deep capacity to love. He was intelligent, naturally athletic and artistic, and devoutly Catholic. His smile exuded his essence: warm, genuine, sensitive, kind, gentle, affectionate, caring, supportive, and loving, with a refreshing sense of humor and nave optimism about life. Dad was the only child born to Selma (Reichenberg) and Allan Norton Corwin. Dad's mother, a professional pianist and singer (soprano in the New York Metropolitan Opera), died of cancer at age 44 on his 11th birthday. His father (auto mechanic, chauffer, sales/service, WWI Signal Corps Veteran) lived another 50 years and died at age 96 on Long Island. Dad journeyed from humble beginnings in New York City to, ultimately, Long Beach, California, where he and my mom created a fun, comfortable, loving life for us all. As the story goes, he might have gone to Fordham on scholarship after graduating from high school, but chose instead to travel to California at age 19. He settled in Santa Monica where he loved the beach, bowling, babes, and bachelor life. He worked various jobs while taking evening classes at Santa Monica City College. One (of many) funny stories he recently retold was about a job he had where he was asked to sweep the work yard one beautiful day. The day was so gorgeous and inviting that he thought to himself, "The heck with this!" threw down his broom, and took off for the beach. The next day, when his supervisor asked him why he left so abruptly, my dad answered truthfully and was fired instantly! Some time later, he started climbing telephone poles and worked his way into drafting, designing, and engineering telephone circuits with General Telephone (previously Associated Telephone, currently Verizon). In later years, his work became more varied. His favorite position was as an analyst, forecasting needs and costs, etc. After 39 years with the phone company, he was offered an early retirement and took it! This left him with 30 more wonderful years in retirement to bowl, golf, rollerblade, and travel a bit. One thing Dad regretted was not continuing with the piano as a youngster as his mom had wished, or pursuing music more seriously. He also wished he had more of an education, like his lifetime hero and cousin Bill (McGrath) whom he adored. Another thing about my dad many may not know is that he was naturally artistic. He sketched portraits from a young age and created other works of art over the years. Like his dad, my dad had beautiful cursive handwriting that he (and we all) cherished. The Parkinson's tremor took it away from him and he hated that! In his later years, I encouraged him to adapt his art to fit his current abilities (e.g., shaky, abstract, irreproducible art!), but he could not. Everything was detail and precision for Dad, including his love for language and facility with numbers, something Steve and I acquired as well. Growing up, it frustrated me and my brother to always be told to "Look it up in the dictionary!" when we asked the meaning of a word. Some decades later, however, I began to understand and share his passion for words and language, recently obtaining a master's degree in Literacy. Hopefully, all my academic endeavors as a lifelong student have made up for what he considered his shortcomings! Dad met Mom at a dance. Mom tried to steer my dad toward a friend, but his desires were apparently only for my mom, and so he persisted and eventually won her heart. My mom says his buddies would ask her what she had that all the other girls did not, essentially ending his beloved bachelor days. They married at St. Monica's in Santa Monica on August 4, 1956 and continued living in Santa Monica for a few years where my brother, Steven Allan, was born on March 4, 1958. After moving to Long Beach, I was born November 19, 1960. My parents moved from their first home in Long Beach to their current residence in 1962, and my mom insists she will never leave because she loves her home, the neighborhood, and all her caring neighbors! Steve and I have shared wonderful years with our parents, as children and now as adults. Since my dad was a big bowler, much of our childhood involved time spent in bowling alleys (yes, consuming second-hand smoke!), keeping score, and playing pool and pinball machines. We traveled to such "exotic" places as Modesto, Oxnard, Bakersfield, Fresno, and Sacramento for tournaments. But all we really cared about was swimming in the pool! My dad engendered a love of the water in me and my brother. Our aunt, uncle, and cousins had a "summer home" on the beach in Newport. Wow! How fortunate was that?! First, we rode the waves on inflatable rafts, then moved on to belly boards and skim boards, and eventually tried stand-up surfing. I settled on body surfing (my dad's favorite!) and my brother on knee boarding. One of our favorite places to this day is the beach and in the water, whether we're body surfing, body boarding, or throwing the football around so we have to fall into the waves to catch it. Fostered by Dad, a love and talent for sports made me and my brother naturally athletic too, something for which we are especially grateful. Later in life, when neurofibromas and Parkinson's ended my dad's bowling days, he took up golf. My brother joined him and I dabbled. One of our favorite places to golf was at Kukuiolono on Kaua'i. Although my parents were not wealthy--creating a modest life out of meager beginnings as children--we were fortunate to visit the islands several times. We all especially love Po'ipu Beach where we bodysurfed at Brennecke's and Shipwreck's, and snorkeled as well. My mom has never loved the water like we do. In fact, she says now, "When my time comes, be careful not to spread my ashes over water because I can't swim!" One time, however, as much as she hates to put her head in the water, she put on a mask, snorkel, and fins, dove in the water at Po'ipu, got up, and said, "Okay! I did it. Now, don't ask me to do it again!" She said the same kind of thing the first (and last) time she water-skied. She was up in an instant, circled around like a pro, finished, and was never interested in doing it again. The other thing we did as a family that we loved was go to Palm Springs for a week or two every summer while Dad was on vacation from work. We stayed at the Sands Motel, complete with dual slides and high dive. We never wanted to get out of the water! We ate tuna sandwiches in the air conditioned Room 222, played in the playground, shopped around town, and walked to the corner store for ice cream after dinner. Then, when it was dark and windy, we swam again! Later on, we enjoyed several June visits at a timeshare (Azure Sky) in Palm Springs. Again, more sun, water, golf, and relaxation. (That's The Corwin Way!) Steve's daughter, Kami, and his wife, Nilda, got to have fun there, too, along with me and my partner, Teresa, until it got to be too much for my parents in 2005. They figured, since Teresa and I moved to Hawai'i (Big Island) the year before, everyone could do vacations there instead! That was the idea, anyway. My brother's family visited twice and my parents three times, most recently for New Year's 2011. Dad loved life to the end. Although he had been to death's door more than once (most recently in 2011 when he was in hospice and actually did journey somewhere between this life and the next), I'm sure he thought he would bounce back again. And so did we. We all had plenty of opportunity to prepare ourselves for his death due to recent illnesses and setbacks, and thought of him as a miracle man. Father Pat at St. Cornelius referred to him as Lazarus! So, when the doctors assured me this time was different, that the data indicated his physical body was much worse than even a year ago, I kind of smiled and thought, "Sure, but you don't know my dad!" After all, Dad seemed "fine" the first two days of his four-day hospitalization, but then the last two days it was clear he was deteriorating quickly. So when life expectancy went from six to 12 months, to two days to two weeks, and finally to a day or two with a 1 in 5 chance of surviving the night, it became clear his demise was near. Fortunately, we all had special moments with Dad recently: Kami taking Papa for a walk in the neighborhood while he talked incessantly; Dad joining Steve for 9 holes of golf at El Dorado and driving the cart; a poker game at the Corwin Casino; Mom, Teresa, and I seeing one of his favorite musicals with him, South Pacific, at The Carpenter Center; all of us eating at his favorite Chinese restaurant (Fu Wing Low in Fountain Valley) one last time; and I with the honor of celebrating his 90th birthday with him. We ate at his favorite burger joint in West L.A. (Apple Pan, essentially unchanged from its beginnings in 1947), rode the ferris wheel in Santa Monica (something he apparently had been wanting to do for awhile), and visited my mom's relatives in Westchester. That day, I could feel the significance of making it to 90. Few make it to 100, but 90 might be a possibility. And I think that was something my dad was reaching for. Although I don't believe he thought he was ever going to die! And neither did we! Well, when it comes down to it, there apparently is a time, a season, for death in order to pass on to our new life, and it finally came for my dad. Although he had his ups and downs in recent years, he was still walking around and able to attend to his affairs of daily living, however slowly. Most wonderfully, he still had an amazingly sharp mind. At the same time, though, he lived with a lot of pain and discomfort, and I came to marvel at his strength and resilience, as well as his desire to endure whatever he had to in order to stay amongst the living. As hard as it was for me, I felt it a privilege to devote much of the last six years of my life to supporting my parents and helping care for my dad. As it seemed he would go on forever, it got harder for me to balance my love and commitment for my parents with my desire to share life with my partner and build a new career for myself in midlife, because who knows how much time the rest of us have? I would tell my parents, "Hey, I'm living my 80's and 90's now and I'm not doing it again! So we might as well enjoy it together!" Now, it was clearly all worth it. And life is sweeter because of it! Funny how one's life is even bigger in death. I searched through the gospels for the perfect scripture to fit the miraculous experience I had of witnessing my dad's last breath and the instantaneous departure of spirit from body, and this is what I found: "Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit." (John 12:24) Wow! Now, I truly understand! Thanks, Dad, for blessing our lives from the Beyond and for your immense gratitude! I feel it! Even though in some ways you still seem ever-present, you are also never coming back home. As time goes on, I feel the pain of missing you even more. Hugs and Kisses forever, Daddy! - Your little girl, daughter, and Peanut, Candee Kathleen
