I am here today to stand up and speak up for my father, Hartley Stephenson Watts, to affirm that he provided and cared for his family and son very well.
He remains a part of me and I a part of him and he lives on at his best in me, his son David, my daughter Katherine, and my grandchildren George, Sarah, and David. And we are thankful for him.
My father and I were born in the same beach resort town of Blackpool, England. We were baptized in the same Trinity Methodist Church in Blackpool, and by the same minister, Reverend Simm. Early on, my father raised me in the knowledge of Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.
My father loved music, was a paid choir boy in his youth and later a music director at Christ Church, an Episcopal mission church that we attended in Los Angeles, California. My appreciation of music remains. My daughter is a professional music teacher.
I was born in 1942 amidst WWII and Germany's attempt to invade and conquer our British Isles. At that time my father was in the British Royal Navy, on duty in the North Atlantic, on a mine sweeper ship, escorting convoys of cargo ships from America to supply and sustain Great Britain, our home. Communication was crude compared to today but word got to his ship about my birth and he and his shipmates drank a toast of their rum ration to celebrate my birth. I could not have been honored any more.
My father and I are from a time and social structure where fathers and sons remain somewhat distant. I felt we were the closest when I was a young man off to war as he had, but this time in Vietnam. We did not talk about it, but he and I now both knew that constant subconscious nagging feeling that all combat soldier have that they might be killed at any moment. In spite of that one struggles on with his duty. My father suffered this for years in WWII and I only for months in Vietnam. I salute and thank my father for his service to the world, his country, his family, and to me.
My father was an outstanding cook and chef. He fed the stars at the Brown Derby Restaurant in Hollywood, the passengers on the airplanes of United Airlines, and the football players at the University of Southern California.
I loved to eat his food. I remember the many steaks he cooked for me insisting that I eat them as soon as they were done and not left waiting and continuing to cook on the plate. I remember the corn beef and cabbage that he would fix every St. Patrick's day. I remember us sitting around the table as a family and eating. He was particular about how food was prepared and presented. I have learned to enjoy many different kinds of foods thanks to my father the chef.
My father was a hard worker whether on the job preparing food or around the house fixing things up. He has instilled a work ethic in me that has sustained and stabilized me and gained me respect. I still enjoy working hard.
I would not wish for a different father. I am thankful for his presence in my life. I will try to be a 'good lad' as he would say. Father, I love you.
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