My dad knew my mom was pregnant before he shipped out to the South Pacific with the 42nd Bombardment Group during World War II. Mom stayed in Los Angeles until after I was born seven months later. Then she moved to Aberdeen where her parents lived. Dad made it home safely and I do not remember life without him.

Growing up poor, we did not take vacation trips. But when I was 9 or 10 years old, we drove to Rock Springs, Wyo., where my dad was born and grew up. I had only met his oldest sister, who lived in Seattle and was 18 years older than Dad, the baby of the family. So I was excited about meeting more of my dad's family.

My mother was an only child. She loved to drive, so she was always the driver. My dad was content to be a passenger. Grandma sent some chocolate cookies she'd baked for us to eat along the way.

One day we drove well into the night. By the time we looked for a motel, there were no vacancies. The last motel owner my dad tried referred us to a homeowner who took in travelers. There was one room left and we took it, even though it cost $15, which was highway robbery back then.