His Legacy

It’s been just over a year since we lost him, and I think that now the time has come to say a few words about my late father.  I am not going to make this long and windy and I will purposely omit many details so that the reader is not inundated with too many pages to digest about someone they never knew.  Instead, I will just highlight some important points about him that were important to me and may not have been said before during his lifetime.  I also will read it out loud to him, so that he can hear it, up in heaven.

1. He saved my life when I was quite young, and apparently, he dove in to the eight-foot-deep area of a hotel pool, to find me at the bottom of the pool.  I still remember sitting there briefly, admiring the squiggly sun lines going across my quickly blurring field of vision.  He made sure I continued on in life, to accomplish what God wanted me to accomplish.
2. He and mother bought my sister and I a piano so that we could learn, and I did learn and did fairly well, but eventually decided to quit, because I wanted to learn the trumpet, which I felt at that young age, was a much more manly instrument.  After all, my father was a very good trumpet player and it seems, I wanted to be like him. Turns out, he and mom came to all my band concerts, but, in the end, I was never as accomplished as he was with the trumpet.  I say this because he never said a word to me about quitting the piano, and the investment they made —never made me feel bad, but it seems, wanted me to make my own decisions in life, and take the fall on my own and suffer all consequences or rewards on my own.  As I grew older, I realized it was my mistake that I regret years later.
3. He was never a man of many words. In fact, he didn’t usually give me much in the way of guidance or wisdom.  Perhaps that was because I was head-strong and didn’t want to listen, more than anything else.  Or as well, he was a man from the old school, who felt his son should learn from his own mistakes and decisions, and that learning was best endured from the school of hard knocks.  Later on, he did admit that in private to my girlfriend, and that was his policy: to let his son make the life he wanted, to work hard on his own, with minimal help and no silver platter handouts, so that when he grew older and had a family, he knew it was all his.
4. There was one piece of wisdom he imparted on me that I remember.  After my first year of medical school, my girlfriend dumped me, probably because her father, a surgeon, felt that I didn’t measure up to her and his family.  I came home dejected, but I do remember what he told me: there are many more fish in the sea, Carson, so go on with it, let it go, and go fishing when you are ready.  Or something like that.  It made me feel better.
5. He always provided for us as a family, working in the Steel Mills and never left us hungry or wanting.
6. He never said a word, nor did my mother, about my mistakes with dating the opposite sex, or in fact, marrying a woman I did not really know.  I think my dangerous and naïve stubbornness silently clashed with his stoic strength.
7. He never, ever swore or used a bad word, not matter what situation we were in.
8. He and mother took us to church every Sunday, and he combed my hair and put my hat on to look good.   He (parents) introduced me to God and his son Jesus and encouraged me to get baptized, and that was the greatest gift for me to receive.
9. He was a funny guy, and always the life of the party, and certainly was admired socially by neighbors and friends.
10. He was very popular on the fourth of July, demonstrating a large variety of powerful fireworks to entertain the many neighbor kids, who when the police came, asking who lit them, they would defend my father and always point far across the field in another direction.
11. While he and mom were proud of me for being accepted to the United States Air Force Academy, I eventually grew to understand that I wanted to go to medical school and it would have to be as a civilian.  Painfully, after much soul searching, I decided to resign from the USAFA.  During that transition, the commandant of Cadets, a brigadier General, and his staff didn’t want me to make the decision lightly, due to my success there, and were secretly sending letters back and forth to my parents, and I never knew about it.  Both parties were respectful. You see, my father and mother purposely were silent about it, supported my decision, if I was sure of it, and were completely hands off.  And that, was the best thing they could have done for me at that critical time —leaving the decision and all consequence fall on me, without any argument or force of opinion. I found out about these letters some 40 years later, and I am proud of my father’s decision to leave me alone and not let me hang my head.  (By the way, it’s a small world because this general, 40 years or more later, became my patient and said he was proud of what I accomplished.
12.  After his stroke which eventually took his life 11 years later, despite his disability and constant suffering, he showed amazing strength and determination.  He never complained about his condition ever, and always adapted the best he could.  That strength is something I hope will rub off on me. You were amazingly strong, dad.
13. With regard to number 9, his humor and social bearing, I relate this interesting story. Often times, when I was young, in social circles he would say, that he used to “Fly with General Claire Chennault” of the famous WWII Flying Tigers.  At that age, I had no idea what he was talking about, or who Chennault was. And I imagine, most of the adults didn’t either, unless they had served in the big war.  My dad did not serve in the war or the military, for various reasons, and of course, he didn’t serve with Chennault and the Flying Tigers.  Why he picked this recurring topic is unclear, but he always did it with a smile, and I understand that he said this to make people laugh or smile at his silliness.  I absolutely do not fault him for trying to make people laugh and smile with this tall tale.  Years later, I bought him a book on Chennault and I am not sure he ever read it.  I visited one holiday after mom died and took the book back with me to my home to read.

Then, in 2018 I met Colonel Ollie Cellini, a famous WWII fighter pilot, age 105, who was my patient.  His daughter asked me “Carson, who do you think he flew with in WWII”? For some reason, I blurted out the answer.   I replied, “General Claire Chennault, Flying Tigers China, Burma, India Group.”  I was correct, and his daughter said I was the only person to ever get it right.  The old man connected with me and wrote stories in my dad’s book on Chennault that I cherish.

You see, it seems my dad did have a connection to Chennault and the old man it seems, the good lord put us together, through one of his pilots, in a history-filled private conversation.

So now some of my readers will know that at least part of my inspiration on my blogs for Ollie the Old Man came from my conversations with the original Colonel Ollie Cellini.

And finally, after his disabling stroke, my father never complained when my children chose to leave him alone and their grandmother as well, when she was sick and didn’t visit or call. He and mom took care of my kids in Arizona and at the lakeshore on their vacations and loved spending time with them when they were young.  But he never said a negative word about the heavy loss he must have felt for the lost grandchildren he loved but never saw again.

Time to end this:  I miss you Ray, and I know you are at peace without suffering there in heaven, near the hands of God and his son Jesus.

©  2025  SRCarson