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John Roscoe Jurgensen, October 1942-January 2002
Wanted to write a list of things I loved about my dad, who also died in January, 21 years ago. I don't really want to go back and look up what day of January it was. I know it wasn't the same day as mom and it wasn't right after the new year but it's all a blur. It was so sad. (Lung cancer. He was a smoker. And he drank daily but was never a mean drunk or really ever very drunk, I never saw him intoxicated.)
I was 26 when he died, and 3 when he divorced my mom, so my memories of him are somewhat sparse, he just wasn't around a whole lot in my life.
But when he was, it was always pleasant.
Most of my memories are a bit childish, as most of the time I spent with him happened as a very small child.
Dad was so, so sweet with me. He had endless patience. I remember that he could be stern when he felt the need, but I don't remember him ever being angry with me, definitely not for any length of time at all. I always felt loved and safe, with him.
As a little little girl, he would bounce me on his knee, endlessly, and I loooooved it. We would play a game in which I would pull a pen from his shirt pocket and he would say, mock-threateningly, "gimme that pennnnn" and I would laugh and laugh and try to play keep-away.
I'm sure he made sure he had pens in his pocket when he held me just so that we could play this game.
He was easy to hug and snuggle and always felt good to embrace.
He was so funny. Always finding a way to laugh. Always cracking jokes. Always smiles.
There were things that irritated him, and he would make those into jokes somehow, too.
He was a very sensitive person, and I think he used humor to deflect and diffuse difficulty.
He was always, always reading and learning. He loved books, all books, he loved to read, he read the dictionary for fun, he read encyclopedias, he was kind of a walking encyclopedia, he tried so hard to encourage me to read and learn, too.
(Mom used to say that they fell in love because they were both bookworms.)
Dad always made things more fun. He showed up for holidays like Easter and Forth of July, and it was always so much more fun having him around.
Dad was a talented photographer and loved taking pictures of everything - portraits, landscapes, planes/trains/automobiles, anything he found interesting.
He always made me feel loved and beautiful and cherished and important.
Dad had awesome taste in music, too. I don't remember him playing any instruments, but he loved all kinds of music, in particular really high quality jazz, but also rock and classical and folk.
Some of my favorite memories of dad.....
Riding in his white Karmann Ghia on the coast on when he took me from mom's for a day or two on weekends, after the divorce. He would give me sugary cereals that mom never allowed, I still associate Lucky Charms and Trix with him. He would take me to Dairy Queen and my favorite was always the chocolate dip cone. He would show of driving with no hands, and it took me a bit to catch on that he was using his knee to steer :)
His warm deep voice
His sparkly blue eyes
His always-changing facial hair (he looked good no matter how scruffy his beard got, or clean shaven, or anything in between)
He always brought all of the best fireworks for setting off in the street on the 4th of July
Riding on the back of his motorcycle down I84 at age 14 in a white floral sundress
He took me to see Phantom of the Opera at the Schnitz (Alene Schnitzer concert hall) when I was 16, my first time to any sort of fancy formal performance, I bought my first and only black velvet dress for this occasion and held onto it for sooooo many years (I might still have it tucked away somewhere).
His love of listening to live jazz at the Sun Valley lodge bar while sipping coffee nudges by the giant fireplace.
The way he always had a book and pens. He was always thoughtful, always contemplating some new idea.
He rarely complained. And when he did, it was legitimate and not very long, and often he would find ways to make it funny.
I never for one second in all my life doubted his love for me.
(Pretty sure I'm about 16 in this photo, so, 1991?)
(I miss him so much.)
Wanted to write a list of things I loved about my dad, who also died in January, 21 years ago. I don't really want to go back and look up what day of January it was. I know it wasn't the same day as mom and it wasn't right after the new year but it's all a blur. It was so sad. (Lung cancer. He was a smoker. And he drank daily but was never a mean drunk or really ever very drunk, I never saw him intoxicated.)
I was 26 when he died, and 3 when he divorced my mom, so my memories of him are somewhat sparse, he just wasn't around a whole lot in my life.
But when he was, it was always pleasant.
Most of my memories are a bit childish, as most of the time I spent with him happened as a very small child.
Dad was so, so sweet with me. He had endless patience. I remember that he could be stern when he felt the need, but I don't remember him ever being angry with me, definitely not for any length of time at all. I always felt loved and safe, with him.
As a little little girl, he would bounce me on his knee, endlessly, and I loooooved it. We would play a game in which I would pull a pen from his shirt pocket and he would say, mock-threateningly, "gimme that pennnnn" and I would laugh and laugh and try to play keep-away.
I'm sure he made sure he had pens in his pocket when he held me just so that we could play this game.
He was easy to hug and snuggle and always felt good to embrace.
He was so funny. Always finding a way to laugh. Always cracking jokes. Always smiles.
There were things that irritated him, and he would make those into jokes somehow, too.
He was a very sensitive person, and I think he used humor to deflect and diffuse difficulty.
He was always, always reading and learning. He loved books, all books, he loved to read, he read the dictionary for fun, he read encyclopedias, he was kind of a walking encyclopedia, he tried so hard to encourage me to read and learn, too.
(Mom used to say that they fell in love because they were both bookworms.)
Dad always made things more fun. He showed up for holidays like Easter and Forth of July, and it was always so much more fun having him around.
Dad was a talented photographer and loved taking pictures of everything - portraits, landscapes, planes/trains/automobiles, anything he found interesting.
He always made me feel loved and beautiful and cherished and important.
Dad had awesome taste in music, too. I don't remember him playing any instruments, but he loved all kinds of music, in particular really high quality jazz, but also rock and classical and folk.
Some of my favorite memories of dad.....
Riding in his white Karmann Ghia on the coast on when he took me from mom's for a day or two on weekends, after the divorce. He would give me sugary cereals that mom never allowed, I still associate Lucky Charms and Trix with him. He would take me to Dairy Queen and my favorite was always the chocolate dip cone. He would show of driving with no hands, and it took me a bit to catch on that he was using his knee to steer :)
His warm deep voice
His sparkly blue eyes
His always-changing facial hair (he looked good no matter how scruffy his beard got, or clean shaven, or anything in between)
He always brought all of the best fireworks for setting off in the street on the 4th of July
Riding on the back of his motorcycle down I84 at age 14 in a white floral sundress
He took me to see Phantom of the Opera at the Schnitz (Alene Schnitzer concert hall) when I was 16, my first time to any sort of fancy formal performance, I bought my first and only black velvet dress for this occasion and held onto it for sooooo many years (I might still have it tucked away somewhere).
His love of listening to live jazz at the Sun Valley lodge bar while sipping coffee nudges by the giant fireplace.
The way he always had a book and pens. He was always thoughtful, always contemplating some new idea.
He rarely complained. And when he did, it was legitimate and not very long, and often he would find ways to make it funny.
I never for one second in all my life doubted his love for me.
(Pretty sure I'm about 16 in this photo, so, 1991?)
(I miss him so much.)
