Patricia Amos Bothun
I have nothing but beautiful and happy memories of my dear father george. He had such a zest for life, he tried to make things a teaching moment when ever he could. We learned where babies come from when he woke us up in the middle of the nite to watch momma cat have kittens-he acted like the proud father! Every summer he loaded the car and took our family consisting of him, muriel, mike, connie, and myself all along the coast of california and oregon through the redwoods we camped out every year in the beautiful state parks open to the public. My father always had time for us.He made beautiful furniture that still have their place in our childhood home. He made floor lamps and table lamps out of the beautiful driftwood we would pickup on week-end outings. He was a perfectionist in everything he did.Every summer he grew a garden and four rows of the sweetest blackberries as big as a grown mans thumb that we would pick and can and store on the shelves he built in the garage. We would be watching tv at nite and he would disappear into the kitchen and return with blackberry short cake for all. George came from very humble beginnings but he worked day and night to better himself. For years he went to night school, I can picture him in the bedroom in his comfortable chair under the floor lamp doing. His studies. Above him on the mantle the many trophies he and my mother muriel won in the many dance contests they danced in. This man was the sbsolute apple of my eye. His last words to me while in hospice was"I love you". And since his passing he's been back to visit me in my dreams three times with the message not to worry, things will turn out as they should.