December 15, 1947


My parents were Bill and Mary May. They grew up during the Depression. Both lost their father when they were young. Neither went to High School. They were poor kids from large families with a single mother.

My Grandmother was from Ireland and to provide for his children, she made and sold whiskey during prohibition. She was charged and sentenced with violation of the Volstead Act / 18th Amendment. My mom grew up in foster care while her mother did Federal Time.

My dad and his older brothers drove a truck from Southern Illinois to Chicago once a week to bring illegal alcohol back to sell in East St Louis. Dad was 15 and rode Shotgun on the truck. We still have the shotgun. [Meredith] Dad said when WW II came he was 20 and had no education or skill. The Army wanted men who could kill and it was the only thing he was good at. He went to land on the beach at Okinawa.

After the Second World War my parents met and realized they had everything in common. They were survivors. They ran off to New Mexico to get married and I was born in 1947.

I was the son. The most wonderful thing my parents had ever done. I made them a family. The one thing they never had as kids and wanted to create. They worshiped me and were in awe of everything I did. I still have scrap books of dumb drawings I made as a boy. They saved everything and gave me a wonderful life.

I tell the story: "The bad news is my parents died. But the good news is my parents died." Growing up poor they saved 25 cents out of every dollar they earned. When they died in the 90s, they left my sister and me a small fortune. Even in death, they continued to give me the better future they never had.

I've done my best to make them happy and proud. Today I am 75 years old. I am living the dream life they planned for me. I am their legacy. Thanks again Mom & Dad.


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