Marjorie Steakley
When my father was 5, his father died suddenly from a stroke. Being the First World Depression, he certainly had worked himself to death to support his family. My father's older siblings were grown, but he had a younger brother Melvin, to whom he was very close and who grew up to be a religion columnist for the Houston Chronicle and most likely a little known civil rights martyr. The pivotal event in my father's life was his service in the Marine Corps during the Antifascist War (WWII). He trained extensively during the conflict, and was part of the postwar occupation of Japan, during which he found countless bodies of the victims, including of the A bomb, so that they could get a decent burial. That was arguably the hardest thing he had to do in his life. Although some people had pilfered during the occupation as my father had indicated, he certainly aided in Japan's transition from fascism towards democracy. Sadly, due to his exposure to radiation at Hiroshima, my father suffered and survived 4 cancers over the rest of the 20th century: thyroid cancer in the '50s, lung cancer in the '60s, and nonhodgkin lymphoma in the '80s and '90s. The first three were surgically removed, and the last one was indolent and he was able to lick it under his own power. He had radiation on the third one, which was a disaster because it caused his hip to dissolve, necessitating a hip replacement in 2005. Enduring these surgeries and others (e.g. eye following an automobile accident in the '90s) was the hardest thing of his postwar life. Being of stocky frame, which I inherited, my father had played football during the '40s, and whenever the Cowboys played, that certainly brought back memories of his days on the gridiron. He also was an avid Rangers fan, although I don't think he ever played baseball. Many a time did he take us to the old Arlington Stadium and to the Rangers' Ballpark in Arlington. My brother still follows the Rangers avidly. I drifted from the Rangers during the Memphis years, but occasionally I go to UTD to see its baseball & softball teams. As an alum, I get in for free and can sit right behind home plate. Had there been women's football in the '70s and had family circumstances been different [clearing throat], I would've been quite a menacing defensive tackle myself with many quarterback sacks under my figurative belt (I actually detest belts because of atrocious fashions in the mid to late '70s). Art music was another great love of his life, especially early music, stemming from his time in an early music chorale before I was born. He had a Dallas Symphony and Dallas Opera subscription for many years. Before moving to Memphis in '99 to take a job, I also attended those concerts myself. I also inherited his disdain for country music! Upon my return from Memphis to be close to him in his final years, I encouraged him to listen to excellent syndicated programming on WRR, and once he was in the nursing home, I got him a portable radio so that he could continue to do so. He also had memberships at the DMA and the Kimbell, the latter of which I inherited when he was too frail to go to Ft. Worth anymore. He was one of the few persons who fully understood the depth of my emotional investment in the arts of Europe and why the inexorably escalating treasonous atrocities of the capitalist evil empire, including the reverse colonization, are reducing me to tears daily. Don't talk to me about jingoism and americana; my emotional investment is elsewhere, far to the northeast across the ocean in the land warmed by the Thermohalide. Later on in his working life, he was able to utilize his love of literature as a bookseller. In addition to the usual duties, he regularly brought authors to the SMU campus to speak before students & the rest of the community. It was from the SMU bookstore he retired in 1995. I'm running out of space here, but my father ran for mayor of Dallas 3X during the 20th century. I'm now out of space.