Monday, April 13, 2009
Daddy drove us from San Angelo to California in a Model T Ford in l923 when I was five years old. There were no freeways, only graded dirt roads, and no motels. We slept in bedrolls. When we got to California we rented a house which had fruit trees growing in the front yard. We went to the beach and splashed in the Pacific. It was like living in Paradise. Then Daddy began having headaches. California did not have good doctors in the early days and the ones he went to merely gave him pain killers. Some of these shots were a little narotic. I remember one night when Daddy was hallucinating and refused to go to bed because he said it was crawling with ants. Mother was proud but she finally gave in and called Grandpa Sam Moore in Dallas. Grandpa Sam not only was rich, and owned downtown property in Dallas, but he also was on the board of Methodist Hospital. "Hell, Mega, bring him home to Texas. We have the best doctors in the United States here in Dallas," he said. We boarded the train and took Daddy to San Angelo where Grandpa Sam met us and carried him off to Dallas. The surgeons at Dallas removed a tumor from Daddy's brain. It was benign. Within two weeks, Daddy was well again.