KEN

My first memories of my father are somewhat traumatic in that I remember being in front of a house somewhere in Sacramento. I was four years old and was hammering away at a brick. One of the shards flew into my eye and I remember my dad, the want-to-be doctor trying to fix my eye. Trauma was all anyone could call it and what a first memory. Enough of that... This is his story.

When dad graduated in 1968, he wanted to move his new family to the great white north of Alaska. To meet this goal he applied for work with the US Government in hopes of finding work there. Well... turns out the US Air Force decided they were interested and offered him a position in Sacramento. Here is where it gets strange... Dad grabbed the infamous Pop Crismon and they did a great 60's road trip to Sacramento where he reported for duty; visions of Easy Rider come to mind. Pop and Dad did not check into a motel, they checked into a camp site. So imagine, if you will, driving through the camp site and seeing Pop and Dad sitting at the picnic table - Pop in his normal work clothes outfit and Dad in his suit. Yep, the gentleman camper that's my dad. Once dad got settled, he found a place for his family and moved us to Sacramento.

Back in 1968-1969 dad, I think, made roughly $7,000 per year as a GS-7, so buying a place was not in the cards. Dad found a nice place to rent and we moved in. Mom, Dad, me and Pop; Pop was my baby sitter. Mom was working as well as Dad and Pop stayed with me or rather I stayed with him. That did not last long and soon Pop was gone and replaced by Grandma Bessie. This was a time also when our country was at war in Vietnam and winning the space race. I remember very well watching on TV when the first man walked on the moon and dad walking me outside and pointing at the moon telling me there were men walking on the moon at that very second. That memory is so ingrained I remember it as if were yesterday. I also very fondly remember Dad and me watching Batman and Star Trek.

During this time up to 1970, in the year of my sister, we moved from place to place, none had lasting memories. However, memories that do exist are all of family events. I do remember in August of 1970 I was asked to wish for a baby sister and what do you know, on October 2, 1970 I was to become a brother, Dad was yet again a dad, and Mom was now cursed to a life as a mother of two wonderfully rotten children. We moved at least one more time and eventually in the spring of 1972, Mom and Dad bought us a house.

So Dad moved us into a very nice ranch house in a brand new neighborhood in the burbs of Sacramento. I was just now getting my feet under me and what a place this was!!! A real room, a real kitchen, tons of kids my own age, and we lived on a road called Ravenstone Way. Get it, Ravenstone...BirdRock?

Dad was traveling a lot from 1970 to now, and I remember talking with him on the phone a lot and receiving letters. Dad also had some peculiar hobbies. He liked to go rock climbing, he liked hanging out with a biker buddy. No not a Harley dude, a BMW dude. He also liked to go sailing. All of these endeavors, except the motor cycling, I participated in. Here I was, 7 years old, and I had been rock climbing, sailing, lived in probably five different homes, had a sister, had the fortunate opportunity to spend tons of time with Pop and Bessie and many other numerous adventures. What a fast paced life; that was what life with Dave Crismon and Toni Crismon promised.

Mom and Dad packed up our belongings, hired a mover to load it, and we packed into the red 1968 Ford Pickup and embarked on a long adventure road trip to Alabama, via Texas. It was a kid's nightmare, yet dream; Are we there yet??? Equally as exciting was the chance to visit all of the Texas relatives as it was to start a new life in a strange land. Let me tell you... It was a VERY STRANGE LAND indeed.

Arriving in Montgomery we stayed in a kitchenette place on the outside of town. I have no memories of this place except that it was small compared to our pad in California. I was bummed, but dad was very excited to start his new life. It was during these years in Alabama that I bonded very deeply with dad. Dad worked a ton; I went everywhere with him hoping to spend as much time as I could with him. This would change soon but not because of dad. I was growing up, and in so doing, I was becoming very independent. Mom and dad were awesome during these times. They let me explore, stumble, learn and grow, all the while watching instead of doing. There were several critical endeavors during this time that dad embarked upon. One was his continuing education at Auburn University at Montgomery. Second was his continued passionate love of his work. Third was his passionate coaching of his son in all things in life. A typical week for mom and dad at that time included things like: work, baseball games, boy scouts (dad was one of the adult leaders) graduate school and just being a dad and husband. Remember...Fast paced Crismons.

It was during this time I learned many skills a young man should learn that I have used continually to this day. Most, if not all, of these lessons I learned from my mom and dad. One of the most important was duty to my family. In 1977 dad's brother, Bob, planned an intense reunion at the infamous Ft. Riley, Kansas. Everyone who was a Crismon it seemed was going to attend. It also happened that year that my little league baseball team had won the pennant and was going to the city championships. The championships coincided with the reunion. Dad left the decision up to me as to whether I would stay and play ball or go on the trip. It was a no-brainer decision; I must go on the trip. It was important to my dad, so, therefore, it was important to me. Besides, my real love was for the outdoors. After the Kansas reunion we were going to hike the Appalachian Trail.

Many things happened after that summer, but nothing too eventful. Susan was growing up and not nearly as much of a pain; I was growing up and becoming more of a pain and dad was yet again getting wanderlust...so, as it happened, dad applied and got an offer for a position in Denver, Colorado, a job in the brand new Department of Energy.

So, off we go again, this time moving from Alabama to Colorado; yep, you guessed it; via Texas. This time the road trip included the 1968 red Ford Pickup and a 60's vintage Pontiac station wagon that died by the way in the sprawling metropolis of Childress, Texas. Other than that event, the trip was another most excellent Crismon adventure.

Upon arriving in Colorado in early 1979, we quickly checked into a hotel just down the road from dad's new most dismal office. Susan and I were all each other had, and I'm sure mom can attest to the fact that she wished she had neither of us. We made life hell for both mom and dad during this transition.

We quickly moved from the motel to a condo in, of all suburbs of Denver, Englewood. I think dad moved us there because that is where he lived when he was in the Denver area years earlier. Strangely enough I ended up going to the same middle school he went to, and all be darned if I did not end up having the same math teacher as he did. Mr. Elo was his name, and he remembered dad; imagine that...A math teacher remembering dad.

We did not stay in the condo for very long. We moved into a rental house again in Englewood until mom and dad could find a house they were happy with. This was a chore; I remember going through endless show homes until they finally found one. The house was as far south at the Denver metro area had grown and was a wonderful place with wonderful neighbors. Things were looking up...of course, I was growing up more and becoming more independent and, to some extent, so was Susan. Our parents were becoming less a part of our day-to-day lives and more of a background influence, yet they were both always there when either of us needed them. Dad was again busy at work and Susan and I were simply growing up. It was during that part of my life where I started to separate myself from mom and dad. I still remember to this day having one of my best friend (Jay's) friend tell me he thought my dad was strange; he is. But regardless, he was my dad and I beat the hell out of Jay's friend over that comment. I never told dad about that because I knew he would not approve of such petty violence over something so trivial.

I graduated from Columbine High School in 1983, tried a few years living at home with mom and dad, and finally joined the Army in 1986. It was time for me to move on and start my life. Dad sensed it was also time for him to move on, and in 1987 he accepted a position in Albany, Georgia at the Marine Corps Logistics Base and thus moved the family from Colorado to Georgia. This is where my sister Susan (next page) will continue the delivery of David Crismon's biography.