Monday, June 19, 2023


 By Tim Rohr

Well, I was sort of thinking of making it through Fathers Day without getting mushy about my own dad, but...I wasn't successful. 

There is too much to say about my own dad. So I won't say it. Cuz I know most men (especially men) feel the same about their own. 

Nevertheless, I'm gonna share a little post I did on FB about my dad. 

Thanks for entertaining me. 

Sincerely, Tim

From my FB post:

Just a small note on this pic. It's actually a still-frame from a "movie." The baby is me. It's 1956. The handsome man is of course my dad, Martin Henry Rohr.

As I am presently in California and assisting my 89 year old mother, a few days ago I took her to visit the grave of my brother and her parents, both buried in the same East LA cemetery and only yards apart. (It's also where she will be buried - next to my brother.)

After visiting the cemetery, as is our usual practice whenever we do this, we drove by the home where my mother grew up  - on Princeton Street, East LA. In fact, not only is her childhood home hardly a mile or so from the cemetery, said home is visible from the cemetery when standing exactly on the spot in which my mother's parents are buried.

As we drove to her childhood home which is located on a dead end, I quickly "stared" at this very spot where the above picture was taken - with this picture in mind.

Princeton Street dead ends at what can only be described as a steep slope covered with tar - which is how erosion was restrained back then - and at the end of that dead end was a white - steel traffic guard, rail, or whatever you call it.

In this pic, my dad is standing next to that white-steel rail at the end of Princeton Street and below which is the "tar hill." You can sort of see the "falling off" in the pic.

That steel rail and the tar hill is still there. And as I turned into what was my grandmother's driveway in 1956, I stared at this spot where this pic was taken - and made a silent memory.

It's weird. I grew up at this East LA Princeton Street house until I was about 5 years old. But I remember it more than any other home I ever lived in.

Maybe some of you old people know what I mean. 🙂

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