First looking at my Dad, George Rogers.
My father was born in 1914 in Galveston, Texas. He died on January 5, 1985, in Houston, Texas. In his lifetime he lived in Fort Worth, San Antonio, Dallas, and other towns in Texas. He spent a lot of his life in St, Louis, MO, and for a while in Boston and Framingham, MA, then returned to Houston with retirement.
He married my mother in an honorably committed relationship in which they called each other "Honey" on the good days. At the other times they didn't talk at all. They seemed to have had romance according to his photo album of their courtship days. But I had never experienced this, and I never even saw that album while they were both living.
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| They got their marriage license on Friday the 13, which they had not realized until someone else mentioned it. |
He had met my mother in San Antonio, after he lived as a boy in Fort Worth for a while. His father (of the same name) was a bookkeeper, and my father became one as well, then an accountant, about which I really don't know much difference.
He worked for an aircraft factory in Dallas, during WW II, and I was born at the beginning of the war.
Then after my sister was born, right at the end of the war, we moved to Houston. We lived there less than 4 years, traveling to visit relatives in Wisconsin on a summer trip which included the Smoky Mountain Park, as well as Principia, the Christian Science school in St. Louis, MO.
George Elmore Rogers, Jr. as a child. Undated.
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| May 26, 1917, 2 years 6 mos. George E. Rogers, Jr. |
He had three brothers who grew to manhood. Chauncey and Alexander were older than he was, and James was quite a bit younger.
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| I think their mother got them out of order, so my guess is that Chauncey is on the left, then George, youngest was James, and the oldest was Alexander. |
My mom and dad decided to move to St. Louis. I never heard their reasoning (after interviews at The Principia school boosted their intentions) but without any job prospects, our furniture was packed up, and we arrived in July or August. We stayed in a small upstairs apartment for a few days, then a farm house in St. Charles, Mo, then finally an apartment not far from the school. My mother started doing secretarial work at Principia. My father looked for a job, and it took a long time I think. He worked for a while for a big department store, and after a few years got a job with Principia also. Both my parents continued working there the entire time my sister and I attended the school, 16 years I think. They were dedicated to the values of Christian Science.
I left the college in my junior year, and left Christian Science. My sister, 4 years behind me in school, also left the school and the religion at that point in her education. We didn't see much of each other, so I think her choice was her own. Once we were out of school, my parents left St. Louis and moved to Boston, to work for the Christian Science Mother Church administration. They were also living closer to me and my new family in Hartfort, CT. My sister lived with them and went to BU for a while.
My parents were always a unit in my life, but I felt much closer to my father than my mother. I think this was partly due to my mother always seeming to have a preference for my sister. She was younger, and of course needed more care initially. But the "baby-ing" from my mother never really stopped. Perhaps this was due to her having seizures, or maybe she had other emotional needs I didn't know about.
My dad did everything that a father and husband and bread-winner was supposed to do. He was "always a gentleman." But considering he'd been raised in the religion, I don't remember him going to church on Sun, and never to the Wednesday night testimonial service.
And he had a flirtatious side to him. I saw it with other women once I was a teen. I never saw him behave inappropriately however. He always treated women with respect, but this was where I saw the same sense of humor that his father had had.
I remember going through my adolescence with the turmoils of hormones and how I reacted to boys and tried to find out who I was...without any support from either of my parents. In the 50's that was just how it was done.
After my divorce, my father would somehow slip me a $20 bill or more whenever I visited my parents. He would always say, don't tell your mother. She handled all the finances, so I knew this was coming from his "allowance" and he'd put it aside somehow.
I miss my father, and wish he could have loved my sons and shared in their growth to manhood. None of his great-grandchildren ever got to see him.
A repost from my father's birthday, which I wrote about in 2013.
