Two Very Special Men

My beloved father was killed in a freak helicopter accident when I was 10 and a half. The "halfs" were so important at that age. Only 2 weeks before, he had flown his helicopter to my school where I was attending summer school. He landed on the play ground, came in and told the principal he was taking me for the day. My classmates were so jealous. All of the teachers called recess so the kids could see the helicopter. Off we went for the adventure of a lifetime! There I sat next to my daddy with headphones on so we could talk and he could point out all of the things below.

Our first stop was Wold Chamberlain Field. That's what they called the Minneapolis-St. Paul International airport back then. He marched me up the stairs to the air traffic control tower to introduce me to all of his cronies. You see he was a bit of a celebrity among pilots. He was a certified WW2 war hero and ace pilot earning a DFC: Distinguished Flying Cross among many other accolades. (I didn't find out just HOW well known he was until many years later) After leaving the control tower we proceeded to Buffalo, MN, my dads home town and the home of my paternal grandparents. As we got closer he informed me we were going to make a stop first to see a childhood friend. What I didn't know at the time was that "Bill" was playing golf that afternoon. Not to be deterred, daddy just landed on the Buffalo Municipal Golf Course....I believe it was the eighteenth fairway. Well of course anyone who could see, saw a helicopter landing in a place they don't normally land and came running. After chatting with his friend for a time, the course officials asked him to leave and never pull a stunt like that again. (everyone cut him slack because of who he was: an irish rogue with a wicked sense of humor and a gift of gab) Off we went again, this time for the short hop to grandma and grandpa's. I figured we'd land at the Buffalo airport but nooooooooooo. We landed in grandma and grandpa's BACKYARD!!!! By this time the newpapers had gotten wind of his antics and sent a reporter and photographer out to cover the story. I still have the pictures taken of him with my grandparents next to the helicopter in their backyard! At the end of an eventful day, we flew back to the Anoka airport for the drive home. Our arrival was met by a very angry mom as she had not been notified of daddy's plan for me for the day. She had to hear about it from my principal, Mr. Johnson. That was so typical of daddy!

I will never forget him or that incredible day. He was a national hero but more important, he was MY hero. John A. Kelly 1920-1964

After my fathers untimely death, my mom became reacquainted with her high school sweetheart. He was divorced and the father of three kids. All were living in California so dating became a courtship of letters and visits to Minnesota by "Bob". After about a year, mom moved us to California so she could pursue her relationship with "Bob". My younger sisters took to him immediately. I on the other hand was resentful and angry that she could "replace" my dad so quickly and easily. I was NOT going to be swayed by this handsome charmer so readily. Life in California was good. We acclimated to this wonderful new setting by the beach very quickly. Not too long after our arrival, mom and "Bob" eloped to Yuma and got married. My sisters were delighted. I was not happy! My 12 and a half year old consciousness could not wrap my arms around this situation. Unlike my sisters, I refused to call him "daddy". After all, I remembered my dad and this man was not him.

I participated in girl scouts and was an accomplished member of the swim team. This required chauffering back and forth to the school and the pool multiple times a day and evening. On one of these occasions, "Bob" said he'd drive me to the school. He asked me if I'd like to drive. DRIVE????? Are you kidding me? Of course I wanted to drive!!!!! So he pulled over his VW wagon and I got behind the wheel. He said this was to be our secret. The car was a "stick" shift so this would be no easy lesson. As a professional driver (he drove flatbed's for a living) it was important to him that I learn the correct way to balance clutch and accelerator to idle the car rather than use the brake pedal. This in itself, especially on a hill, required some finesse. There was a lot of lurching and stalling before I got the hang of the "H": the shape of the gears on the transmission. I was so tickled to be driving at 13 I couldn't stand myself. This remained our "secret" for several years. This was just one of many selfless things this man did in his love for my mother and of us girls over the years.

I think I was almost 14 when I decided he had earned the title of "daddy" to me. The first time I called him that, he paused for just a beat with a look of shock and delight before continuing with what he was doing. Years later after he had become my confidante, the mediator in my fights with mom, my advocate for a decent future with benefits, he told me how much that day meant to him. He told me that after my sisters had stopped calling him 'daddy" and now referred to him as "dad", the fact that I, now a woman of a certain age, still

called him "daddy" meant more to him than he could convey. He told me he knew that when I finally used that term he had earned it.

We lost "daddy" very suddenly in August of 1994. My life would never be quite the same again. I lost the man I had grown up with. The man who showed me what it is to be a man and to be a father. I miss his raucous, shake the rafters laugh. You see, he was an abused child. Horribly abused. While he had a temper he never once struck us or mom or threw raging tantrums. He broke the cycle of abuse and became the father he never had. He became MY father as much as if he were my blood. Thank you daddy. Robert W. Gutkaes 1930-1994