My Father, Fireman and World War II Veteran.
Robert Leon Webb, Jr. was the 1st born child and son of Robert Leon Webb, Sr. (1897-1962) and Ruth Warters Webb (1896-1991). He and his two younger brothers, Lee Hampton Webb, b.1928 (named after his paternal grandfather) and Thomas Warters Webb, b.1931 (named after his maternal grandfather, Thomas Lassiter Warters), were born and raised in Georgia, where their father worked as manager of a fertilizer plant in Cordele, Crisp County, Georgia. Ruth, their mother, had received a college education at Shorter College (now Shorter University) in Rome, Georgia, where she had been born and raised with her four sisters and brother. She had received a degree in Teaching Mathematics, which became instrumental in young Tommy's life as he was a sickly child and was not expected to live to adulthood. As it turned out, when he was ready to enter the 9th grade, he told his mother that he wanted to attend the public high school so he could be around other students his age. He not only graduated from high school, but he also went on to college, receiving his degree in Law. He became a practicing Attorney in Gainesville, Georgia, married and the father of two sons. Tommy lived until August 18, 1969, 38 years of age.
By the time Robert, affectionately known as "Buck"*, had graduated from high school in 1942 and was attending Clemson College, his father's Alma Mater, America had joined the other Atlas powers in World War II and his father was a senior officer at the Army Air Base in Columbia, South Carolina. He introduced his secretary, Patricia Jean Taylor, to his son and they began to date while she and her parents were living in Columbia, South Carolina. Robert enlisted in the Army Air Corps during this time and my mother said he was a quiet, shy boy, unlike other boys she'd dated in the past. Patsy's father was promoted to chief of the Western Region of the ICC [Interstate Commerce Commission] and transferred to San Francisco, CA. At this time, Buck and Patsy decided to marry and the ceremony took place in Oakland, California on Nov 9th, 1944. Following a brief honeymoon, he was transferred to the South Pacific and his new bride set up housekeeping at their new apartment on Manila Ave., Oakland, California. She worked for J. Edgar Kaiser at the company headquarters in Oakland, California as an executive secretary. They wrote each other, making plans for when the war ended and she kept him aware of the changes she made to their home, decorating it and awaiting his return. My future father was a radio operator on the bombers, one of a crew of six. I can only imagine how my future mother must have felt when the telegram came to inform her that her new husband was missing in action, having been shot down near Balikpapan Harbor, Borneo on June 29th, 1945. I never learned how long he and just one other crew member were in the ocean, as the other four men died from sharks, exposure or wounds. He was always reluctant to speak of it and my mother would only say that, after his discharge, when he came home to her, he would awaken with terrible nightmares. I can only imagine what he went thru or the relief he and his crew mate felt when an Australian ship happened upon them. They were picked up but had to remain on the ship until they had delivered the soldiers to an island where the fighting was fierce. Eventually, they were returned to an American base where they were both treated for exposure and wounds; my father received a Purple Heart and other medals, but didn't wear them, just put them all in a drawer after he was discharged from active duty and re-enlisted, continuing on with the National Guard in November, 1945. He came home to his wife a changed man, trying to fit into post war America. Prior to his Army service, he had done carpentry and plastering when not attending college, so went back to those trades again, although he took the civil service exam to become a fireman in San Jose, California, a career he had always dreamed of following. After three years, my mom became pregnant with my older sister and her father bought a house in Oakland, California, letting them move into it and live there for many years. My older sister, Wendy Louise, arrived on Jan 10th, 1950 and both sets of grandparents were so excited; my father's parents came out from Georgia to meet their grandchild and my mother stayed home, caring for Wendy and taking care of the house. She also planted the 1st of three Redwood trees in the backyard, one for each child. [They are huge now and still there as of 2018.] My maternal grandparents lived within a few miles of my parents and sister and my grandmother would come over frequently to help with housework, cooking meals and caring for Wendy. Just as Wendy's 1st birthday arrived, my mother found herself with child again, due in Sept 1951. I was the 2nd child, another daughter, born on Sep 29th, 1951. My mother had one last daughter, my younger sister, on Feb 19th, 1953, and named her Nancy Susan. My father had worked on their home quite a lot during this time, adding a room to the house and putting down a patio in the backyard. He was hired as a fireman for the City of San Jose in 1956, so we moved to San Jose, into a little house (on Murtha Drive) that had a patio with a partial cover. My mother had a grey kitty who loved to chase the raindrops when it rained and we would laugh and laugh. We also were old enough so we got to ride tricycles and a pedal wagon which was just right for Nancy to sit in while Wendy steered and would lead us around. My father continued to work second jobs doing carpentry and plastering in addition to being a fireman, to pay the bills. He even worked on the amusement park, Frontier Village, that I used to take my son to in the early 1970's. [It no longer exists, sad to say, as it was a great place for little kids and fun for parents, too.] My dad told me once that there were always more bills and he got really frustrated about it. None the less, when a new ranch style house became available, they bought it and we all moved in at 14549 Charmaren Avenue. My dad laid out a sidewalk that went around the entire backyard and my mom planted flowers, something she would always do, no matter where we lived. She loved gardening and we always had lovely gardens both in the front and backyards. My sister, Nancy, had to have eye surgery that was experimental back in the early 1950's, but without it she was legally blind. We all got sick with measles and chicken pox during our childhoods; there were no vaccines back then. I loved school, was eager to learn to read and write but couldn't see very well. My mom didn't drive, so we went by bus to Kaiser and I ended up with glasses, which opened a whole new world to me. I must have read every bus bench and billboard to my mother on the way home. My father's parents came out from Georgia and we went to Santa Cruz so they could see the Pacific Ocean. My grandmother went with us to have the water wash over our toes and feet, but my grandfather would have none of it, helping build sandcastles instead. Sadly, that was the only time I remember seeing my granddaddy Webb as he died in 1962. My aunt and uncle came out from New York to see us and spoiled us rotten. We were the kids they could never have. I did a lot of exploring on my own while growing up because many parents in the 1950's would let their kids "go out to play", calling them in for lunch and dinner. We always had to come home when the street lights came on. I explored an abandoned silver mine until my mom found out and told me not to go back. The fruit orchards were being cut down to make way for more houses, so I'd go play in the houses being built, making friends with the contractor who had a lovely Weimaraner dog. My mom got upset about that, too. Things weren't going well at home and when the fights started I'd go outside, if I could. Once I learned how to ride a bike, I'd go riding on my bicycle until it got late and I had to come home. Both of my parents were fighting a lot and they decided to divorce in 1958. My mother moved us back into the home we'd grown up in at Oakland and we could only see our father for Sunday "visitation". Our dad took us by train to Los Angeles so we could go to Disneyland, every kid's dream back in the early 1960's. We watched the sunset as we passed the edge of the Mojave Desert, so beautiful. We stayed at his Aunt Jane Warter's spacious apartment that overlooked Los Angeles and I was so impressed with all of the lights that night. I was also impressed with her study that had books in built-in bookcases on all the walls. She was a nice lady who was very kind to three little girls who could hardly sleep because we'd be going to Disneyland the next day. The trip ended all too soon. It was never the same after the divorce; my father remarried to a woman with a son and daughter, remaining in San Jose because of his job, and we'd all go on visitation together. When it didn't work out, my dad said he would never marry again, and he kept to his decision for about 20 years, until he retired from the fire department. He had been careful with his money, learning from his father-in-law (my maternal grandfather) about investing and saving money. He had two houses, renting out one and living in the other. When I got divorced, he took my son and I in to live with him for four months before moving us into an apartment I paid for myself. When he needed to retire due to arthritis in his back and knees, he married a woman he'd known for quite a long time who was also retiring. He sold his houses and had a lovely home built in Aptos (south of Santa Cruz, CA) and commuted until he could retire. The house was lovely, with a deck that went around the 2nd floor which overlooked the ocean. When he retired, he and Iris lived in the house and would take walks on the beach almost every day. All went well until Oct 1989 when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit, just after 5 p.m. on a Monday night. My dad was watering the yard out front and the quake knocked him to the ground. Iris had been napping in a lazy boy chair next to a bookcase and books fell down and covered her. My dad had fastened the bookcases, grandfather clocks and appliances so they would not fall in case of a quake, so only the books fell, not the heavy bookcase. My father couldn't get up until the shaking stopped, then ran inside to check on Iris. She was in the chair, trying to get books off of herself. When they watched the News, they were amazed at the extent of the damage. My dad checked the house for damage and leaks. Within a few days they found out they lived about 7 miles from the epicenter of the quake and Iris said she could never feel comfortable there again. Reluctantly, my dad put the house up for sale and they moved to El Dorado Hills, in the Sierra Nevada foothills, @ 1 hr. West of Lake Tahoe. Their new home was quite lovely, but my father always missed the beach and taking walks on the beach every day. In the mean time, Iris was diagnosed with Alzheimer's which progressed all too quickly. It proved to be too much of a strain for him to try to care for her day and night (she would stay up half the night, which was typical of the disease). He suffered from a heart attack and Nancy and I went down to try to help out. His doctor advised him that caring for Iris alone was too much of a strain, and when he came home and again tried to care for her alone, he had a second heart attack. It was such a sad situation, but, at his request (and doctor's orders), we found the best facility in the entire county and, with help from her brother, moved her into a wonderful care center. Afterwards, Dad would go to see her at least weekly, but usually more often, to sit with her and try to remind her of all of the trips they'd taken together before she lost her memory, but, in the end, she wasn't able to remember anything. She passed away May 21st, 2001 and was buried at Los Gatos Memorial Park, where they had graves that were side by side. My father would marry one last time, one year later, to Janice, who cared for him until the end of his life. She made certain that he took all of his medications and went with him to his doctor appointments. They'd go for walks together and always went to church on Sundays, until he fell and broke his hip, making him wheelchair bound. He also developed Parkinson's disease and other medical issues, and Janice cared for him full time. It was hard on her and took it's toll, but she was with him every day and night. On July 9th, he became quite ill and she called the paramedics with whom he'd become friends at the nearby fire station. They put him in an ambulance, heading for the hospital, but he died en route and could not be revived. Her daughter, Gayle, called us with the news. It doesn't seem real, somehow, that the man we talked to just about every weekend, who has always been my father and has been there for me so many times for so many years, is gone. I'm sure that all of his Loved Ones who had passed on before were waiting for him as he left his broken body and was given a new, eternal body for his soul, in Heaven, forever. I woke up this past weekend, at first thinking what would be a good time to call Dad, only to remember that he's no longer with us, that he's gone on to Heaven, to Paradise where time has no meaning and he's learned all the answers to all of the questions he ever had while alive. He is with our Lord and the Angels, something we talked about, knowing and sharing a belief that this is all temporary and he now has no aches or pains and is free of that wheelchair and his broken body forever. I miss him, my mother and grandparents, who are all in Heaven, every day.
In addition to leaving his three daughters to mourn his loss, he also leaves three grandchildren, Anthony Blair, Paul Renken and Madeline [Renken] Brady. He also is the great grandfather of Willow Moon Brady, who will be 2 yrs. of age in October 2015, and Lillian Cora Renken, who is due to be born in Sept 2015. He also leaves behind his younger brother, Lee Hampton Webb, and a nephew, Lee H. Webb IV. His wife, Janice, also has a daughter, Gayle, both of whom miss him. In lieu of flowers, he requested donations be made to the Firefighters Burn Institute in his memory, something I did gladly. May he Rest in Peace, walking on the beach with Iris.
I miss you so much, Daddy, and the only thing that comforts me, right now, is knowing that I will see you again. The tears and the migraines are my missing being with you right now, but I know we will be together again some day. Until then, Dad, know you were loved by all who knew you and will be missed until we can be with you again. Rest Peacefully in Paradise, Dad, and watch for me.
*When my father was young he had a toy rocking horse he used to "buck" on, hence the nickname "Buck".
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Thank you to everyone who visits my father's memorial. I am so grateful to you for your kindness. And Thank you to Rose Smith who continues to place flowers at my father's grave. She is a very special friend.
Robert Leon Webb, Jr. was the 1st born child and son of Robert Leon Webb, Sr. (1897-1962) and Ruth Warters Webb (1896-1991). He and his two younger brothers, Lee Hampton Webb, b.1928 (named after his paternal grandfather) and Thomas Warters Webb, b.1931 (named after his maternal grandfather, Thomas Lassiter Warters), were born and raised in Georgia, where their father worked as manager of a fertilizer plant in Cordele, Crisp County, Georgia. Ruth, their mother, had received a college education at Shorter College (now Shorter University) in Rome, Georgia, where she had been born and raised with her four sisters and brother. She had received a degree in Teaching Mathematics, which became instrumental in young Tommy's life as he was a sickly child and was not expected to live to adulthood. As it turned out, when he was ready to enter the 9th grade, he told his mother that he wanted to attend the public high school so he could be around other students his age. He not only graduated from high school, but he also went on to college, receiving his degree in Law. He became a practicing Attorney in Gainesville, Georgia, married and the father of two sons. Tommy lived until August 18, 1969, 38 years of age.
By the time Robert, affectionately known as "Buck"*, had graduated from high school in 1942 and was attending Clemson College, his father's Alma Mater, America had joined the other Atlas powers in World War II and his father was a senior officer at the Army Air Base in Columbia, South Carolina. He introduced his secretary, Patricia Jean Taylor, to his son and they began to date while she and her parents were living in Columbia, South Carolina. Robert enlisted in the Army Air Corps during this time and my mother said he was a quiet, shy boy, unlike other boys she'd dated in the past. Patsy's father was promoted to chief of the Western Region of the ICC [Interstate Commerce Commission] and transferred to San Francisco, CA. At this time, Buck and Patsy decided to marry and the ceremony took place in Oakland, California on Nov 9th, 1944. Following a brief honeymoon, he was transferred to the South Pacific and his new bride set up housekeeping at their new apartment on Manila Ave., Oakland, California. She worked for J. Edgar Kaiser at the company headquarters in Oakland, California as an executive secretary. They wrote each other, making plans for when the war ended and she kept him aware of the changes she made to their home, decorating it and awaiting his return. My future father was a radio operator on the bombers, one of a crew of six. I can only imagine how my future mother must have felt when the telegram came to inform her that her new husband was missing in action, having been shot down near Balikpapan Harbor, Borneo on June 29th, 1945. I never learned how long he and just one other crew member were in the ocean, as the other four men died from sharks, exposure or wounds. He was always reluctant to speak of it and my mother would only say that, after his discharge, when he came home to her, he would awaken with terrible nightmares. I can only imagine what he went thru or the relief he and his crew mate felt when an Australian ship happened upon them. They were picked up but had to remain on the ship until they had delivered the soldiers to an island where the fighting was fierce. Eventually, they were returned to an American base where they were both treated for exposure and wounds; my father received a Purple Heart and other medals, but didn't wear them, just put them all in a drawer after he was discharged from active duty and re-enlisted, continuing on with the National Guard in November, 1945. He came home to his wife a changed man, trying to fit into post war America. Prior to his Army service, he had done carpentry and plastering when not attending college, so went back to those trades again, although he took the civil service exam to become a fireman in San Jose, California, a career he had always dreamed of following. After three years, my mom became pregnant with my older sister and her father bought a house in Oakland, California, letting them move into it and live there for many years. My older sister, Wendy Louise, arrived on Jan 10th, 1950 and both sets of grandparents were so excited; my father's parents came out from Georgia to meet their grandchild and my mother stayed home, caring for Wendy and taking care of the house. She also planted the 1st of three Redwood trees in the backyard, one for each child. [They are huge now and still there as of 2018.] My maternal grandparents lived within a few miles of my parents and sister and my grandmother would come over frequently to help with housework, cooking meals and caring for Wendy. Just as Wendy's 1st birthday arrived, my mother found herself with child again, due in Sept 1951. I was the 2nd child, another daughter, born on Sep 29th, 1951. My mother had one last daughter, my younger sister, on Feb 19th, 1953, and named her Nancy Susan. My father had worked on their home quite a lot during this time, adding a room to the house and putting down a patio in the backyard. He was hired as a fireman for the City of San Jose in 1956, so we moved to San Jose, into a little house (on Murtha Drive) that had a patio with a partial cover. My mother had a grey kitty who loved to chase the raindrops when it rained and we would laugh and laugh. We also were old enough so we got to ride tricycles and a pedal wagon which was just right for Nancy to sit in while Wendy steered and would lead us around. My father continued to work second jobs doing carpentry and plastering in addition to being a fireman, to pay the bills. He even worked on the amusement park, Frontier Village, that I used to take my son to in the early 1970's. [It no longer exists, sad to say, as it was a great place for little kids and fun for parents, too.] My dad told me once that there were always more bills and he got really frustrated about it. None the less, when a new ranch style house became available, they bought it and we all moved in at 14549 Charmaren Avenue. My dad laid out a sidewalk that went around the entire backyard and my mom planted flowers, something she would always do, no matter where we lived. She loved gardening and we always had lovely gardens both in the front and backyards. My sister, Nancy, had to have eye surgery that was experimental back in the early 1950's, but without it she was legally blind. We all got sick with measles and chicken pox during our childhoods; there were no vaccines back then. I loved school, was eager to learn to read and write but couldn't see very well. My mom didn't drive, so we went by bus to Kaiser and I ended up with glasses, which opened a whole new world to me. I must have read every bus bench and billboard to my mother on the way home. My father's parents came out from Georgia and we went to Santa Cruz so they could see the Pacific Ocean. My grandmother went with us to have the water wash over our toes and feet, but my grandfather would have none of it, helping build sandcastles instead. Sadly, that was the only time I remember seeing my granddaddy Webb as he died in 1962. My aunt and uncle came out from New York to see us and spoiled us rotten. We were the kids they could never have. I did a lot of exploring on my own while growing up because many parents in the 1950's would let their kids "go out to play", calling them in for lunch and dinner. We always had to come home when the street lights came on. I explored an abandoned silver mine until my mom found out and told me not to go back. The fruit orchards were being cut down to make way for more houses, so I'd go play in the houses being built, making friends with the contractor who had a lovely Weimaraner dog. My mom got upset about that, too. Things weren't going well at home and when the fights started I'd go outside, if I could. Once I learned how to ride a bike, I'd go riding on my bicycle until it got late and I had to come home. Both of my parents were fighting a lot and they decided to divorce in 1958. My mother moved us back into the home we'd grown up in at Oakland and we could only see our father for Sunday "visitation". Our dad took us by train to Los Angeles so we could go to Disneyland, every kid's dream back in the early 1960's. We watched the sunset as we passed the edge of the Mojave Desert, so beautiful. We stayed at his Aunt Jane Warter's spacious apartment that overlooked Los Angeles and I was so impressed with all of the lights that night. I was also impressed with her study that had books in built-in bookcases on all the walls. She was a nice lady who was very kind to three little girls who could hardly sleep because we'd be going to Disneyland the next day. The trip ended all too soon. It was never the same after the divorce; my father remarried to a woman with a son and daughter, remaining in San Jose because of his job, and we'd all go on visitation together. When it didn't work out, my dad said he would never marry again, and he kept to his decision for about 20 years, until he retired from the fire department. He had been careful with his money, learning from his father-in-law (my maternal grandfather) about investing and saving money. He had two houses, renting out one and living in the other. When I got divorced, he took my son and I in to live with him for four months before moving us into an apartment I paid for myself. When he needed to retire due to arthritis in his back and knees, he married a woman he'd known for quite a long time who was also retiring. He sold his houses and had a lovely home built in Aptos (south of Santa Cruz, CA) and commuted until he could retire. The house was lovely, with a deck that went around the 2nd floor which overlooked the ocean. When he retired, he and Iris lived in the house and would take walks on the beach almost every day. All went well until Oct 1989 when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit, just after 5 p.m. on a Monday night. My dad was watering the yard out front and the quake knocked him to the ground. Iris had been napping in a lazy boy chair next to a bookcase and books fell down and covered her. My dad had fastened the bookcases, grandfather clocks and appliances so they would not fall in case of a quake, so only the books fell, not the heavy bookcase. My father couldn't get up until the shaking stopped, then ran inside to check on Iris. She was in the chair, trying to get books off of herself. When they watched the News, they were amazed at the extent of the damage. My dad checked the house for damage and leaks. Within a few days they found out they lived about 7 miles from the epicenter of the quake and Iris said she could never feel comfortable there again. Reluctantly, my dad put the house up for sale and they moved to El Dorado Hills, in the Sierra Nevada foothills, @ 1 hr. West of Lake Tahoe. Their new home was quite lovely, but my father always missed the beach and taking walks on the beach every day. In the mean time, Iris was diagnosed with Alzheimer's which progressed all too quickly. It proved to be too much of a strain for him to try to care for her day and night (she would stay up half the night, which was typical of the disease). He suffered from a heart attack and Nancy and I went down to try to help out. His doctor advised him that caring for Iris alone was too much of a strain, and when he came home and again tried to care for her alone, he had a second heart attack. It was such a sad situation, but, at his request (and doctor's orders), we found the best facility in the entire county and, with help from her brother, moved her into a wonderful care center. Afterwards, Dad would go to see her at least weekly, but usually more often, to sit with her and try to remind her of all of the trips they'd taken together before she lost her memory, but, in the end, she wasn't able to remember anything. She passed away May 21st, 2001 and was buried at Los Gatos Memorial Park, where they had graves that were side by side. My father would marry one last time, one year later, to Janice, who cared for him until the end of his life. She made certain that he took all of his medications and went with him to his doctor appointments. They'd go for walks together and always went to church on Sundays, until he fell and broke his hip, making him wheelchair bound. He also developed Parkinson's disease and other medical issues, and Janice cared for him full time. It was hard on her and took it's toll, but she was with him every day and night. On July 9th, he became quite ill and she called the paramedics with whom he'd become friends at the nearby fire station. They put him in an ambulance, heading for the hospital, but he died en route and could not be revived. Her daughter, Gayle, called us with the news. It doesn't seem real, somehow, that the man we talked to just about every weekend, who has always been my father and has been there for me so many times for so many years, is gone. I'm sure that all of his Loved Ones who had passed on before were waiting for him as he left his broken body and was given a new, eternal body for his soul, in Heaven, forever. I woke up this past weekend, at first thinking what would be a good time to call Dad, only to remember that he's no longer with us, that he's gone on to Heaven, to Paradise where time has no meaning and he's learned all the answers to all of the questions he ever had while alive. He is with our Lord and the Angels, something we talked about, knowing and sharing a belief that this is all temporary and he now has no aches or pains and is free of that wheelchair and his broken body forever. I miss him, my mother and grandparents, who are all in Heaven, every day.
In addition to leaving his three daughters to mourn his loss, he also leaves three grandchildren, Anthony Blair, Paul Renken and Madeline [Renken] Brady. He also is the great grandfather of Willow Moon Brady, who will be 2 yrs. of age in October 2015, and Lillian Cora Renken, who is due to be born in Sept 2015. He also leaves behind his younger brother, Lee Hampton Webb, and a nephew, Lee H. Webb IV. His wife, Janice, also has a daughter, Gayle, both of whom miss him. In lieu of flowers, he requested donations be made to the Firefighters Burn Institute in his memory, something I did gladly. May he Rest in Peace, walking on the beach with Iris.
I miss you so much, Daddy, and the only thing that comforts me, right now, is knowing that I will see you again. The tears and the migraines are my missing being with you right now, but I know we will be together again some day. Until then, Dad, know you were loved by all who knew you and will be missed until we can be with you again. Rest Peacefully in Paradise, Dad, and watch for me.
*When my father was young he had a toy rocking horse he used to "buck" on, hence the nickname "Buck".
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Thank you to everyone who visits my father's memorial. I am so grateful to you for your kindness. And Thank you to Rose Smith who continues to place flowers at my father's grave. She is a very special friend.
My Father, Fireman and World War II Veteran.
Robert Leon Webb, Jr. was the 1st born child and son of Robert Leon Webb, Sr. (1897-1962) and Ruth Warters Webb (1896-1991). He and his two younger brothers, Lee Hampton Webb, b.1928 (named after his paternal grandfather) and Thomas Warters Webb, b.1931 (named after his maternal grandfather, Thomas Lassiter Warters), were born and raised in Georgia, where their father worked as manager of a fertilizer plant in Cordele, Crisp County, Georgia. Ruth, their mother, had received a college education at Shorter College (now Shorter University) in Rome, Georgia, where she had been born and raised with her four sisters and brother. She had received a degree in Teaching Mathematics, which became instrumental in young Tommy's life as he was a sickly child and was not expected to live to adulthood. As it turned out, when he was ready to enter the 9th grade, he told his mother that he wanted to attend the public high school so he could be around other students his age. He not only graduated from high school, but he also went on to college, receiving his degree in Law. He became a practicing Attorney in Gainesville, Georgia, married and the father of two sons. Tommy lived until August 18, 1969, 38 years of age.
By the time Robert, affectionately known as "Buck"*, had graduated from high school in 1942 and was attending Clemson College, his father's Alma Mater, America had joined the other Atlas powers in World War II and his father was a senior officer at the Army Air Base in Columbia, South Carolina. He introduced his secretary, Patricia Jean Taylor, to his son and they began to date while she and her parents were living in Columbia, South Carolina. Robert enlisted in the Army Air Corps during this time and my mother said he was a quiet, shy boy, unlike other boys she'd dated in the past. Patsy's father was promoted to chief of the Western Region of the ICC [Interstate Commerce Commission] and transferred to San Francisco, CA. At this time, Buck and Patsy decided to marry and the ceremony took place in Oakland, California on Nov 9th, 1944. Following a brief honeymoon, he was transferred to the South Pacific and his new bride set up housekeeping at their new apartment on Manila Ave., Oakland, California. She worked for J. Edgar Kaiser at the company headquarters in Oakland, California as an executive secretary. They wrote each other, making plans for when the war ended and she kept him aware of the changes she made to their home, decorating it and awaiting his return. My future father was a radio operator on the bombers, one of a crew of six. I can only imagine how my future mother must have felt when the telegram came to inform her that her new husband was missing in action, having been shot down near Balikpapan Harbor, Borneo on June 29th, 1945. I never learned how long he and just one other crew member were in the ocean, as the other four men died from sharks, exposure or wounds. He was always reluctant to speak of it and my mother would only say that, after his discharge, when he came home to her, he would awaken with terrible nightmares. I can only imagine what he went thru or the relief he and his crew mate felt when an Australian ship happened upon them. They were picked up but had to remain on the ship until they had delivered the soldiers to an island where the fighting was fierce. Eventually, they were returned to an American base where they were both treated for exposure and wounds; my father received a Purple Heart and other medals, but didn't wear them, just put them all in a drawer after he was discharged from active duty and re-enlisted, continuing on with the National Guard in November, 1945. He came home to his wife a changed man, trying to fit into post war America. Prior to his Army service, he had done carpentry and plastering when not attending college, so went back to those trades again, although he took the civil service exam to become a fireman in San Jose, California, a career he had always dreamed of following. After three years, my mom became pregnant with my older sister and her father bought a house in Oakland, California, letting them move into it and live there for many years. My older sister, Wendy Louise, arrived on Jan 10th, 1950 and both sets of grandparents were so excited; my father's parents came out from Georgia to meet their grandchild and my mother stayed home, caring for Wendy and taking care of the house. She also planted the 1st of three Redwood trees in the backyard, one for each child. [They are huge now and still there as of 2018.] My maternal grandparents lived within a few miles of my parents and sister and my grandmother would come over frequently to help with housework, cooking meals and caring for Wendy. Just as Wendy's 1st birthday arrived, my mother found herself with child again, due in Sept 1951. I was the 2nd child, another daughter, born on Sep 29th, 1951. My mother had one last daughter, my younger sister, on Feb 19th, 1953, and named her Nancy Susan. My father had worked on their home quite a lot during this time, adding a room to the house and putting down a patio in the backyard. He was hired as a fireman for the City of San Jose in 1956, so we moved to San Jose, into a little house (on Murtha Drive) that had a patio with a partial cover. My mother had a grey kitty who loved to chase the raindrops when it rained and we would laugh and laugh. We also were old enough so we got to ride tricycles and a pedal wagon which was just right for Nancy to sit in while Wendy steered and would lead us around. My father continued to work second jobs doing carpentry and plastering in addition to being a fireman, to pay the bills. He even worked on the amusement park, Frontier Village, that I used to take my son to in the early 1970's. [It no longer exists, sad to say, as it was a great place for little kids and fun for parents, too.] My dad told me once that there were always more bills and he got really frustrated about it. None the less, when a new ranch style house became available, they bought it and we all moved in at 14549 Charmaren Avenue. My dad laid out a sidewalk that went around the entire backyard and my mom planted flowers, something she would always do, no matter where we lived. She loved gardening and we always had lovely gardens both in the front and backyards. My sister, Nancy, had to have eye surgery that was experimental back in the early 1950's, but without it she was legally blind. We all got sick with measles and chicken pox during our childhoods; there were no vaccines back then. I loved school, was eager to learn to read and write but couldn't see very well. My mom didn't drive, so we went by bus to Kaiser and I ended up with glasses, which opened a whole new world to me. I must have read every bus bench and billboard to my mother on the way home. My father's parents came out from Georgia and we went to Santa Cruz so they could see the Pacific Ocean. My grandmother went with us to have the water wash over our toes and feet, but my grandfather would have none of it, helping build sandcastles instead. Sadly, that was the only time I remember seeing my granddaddy Webb as he died in 1962. My aunt and uncle came out from New York to see us and spoiled us rotten. We were the kids they could never have. I did a lot of exploring on my own while growing up because many parents in the 1950's would let their kids "go out to play", calling them in for lunch and dinner. We always had to come home when the street lights came on. I explored an abandoned silver mine until my mom found out and told me not to go back. The fruit orchards were being cut down to make way for more houses, so I'd go play in the houses being built, making friends with the contractor who had a lovely Weimaraner dog. My mom got upset about that, too. Things weren't going well at home and when the fights started I'd go outside, if I could. Once I learned how to ride a bike, I'd go riding on my bicycle until it got late and I had to come home. Both of my parents were fighting a lot and they decided to divorce in 1958. My mother moved us back into the home we'd grown up in at Oakland and we could only see our father for Sunday "visitation". Our dad took us by train to Los Angeles so we could go to Disneyland, every kid's dream back in the early 1960's. We watched the sunset as we passed the edge of the Mojave Desert, so beautiful. We stayed at his Aunt Jane Warter's spacious apartment that overlooked Los Angeles and I was so impressed with all of the lights that night. I was also impressed with her study that had books in built-in bookcases on all the walls. She was a nice lady who was very kind to three little girls who could hardly sleep because we'd be going to Disneyland the next day. The trip ended all too soon. It was never the same after the divorce; my father remarried to a woman with a son and daughter, remaining in San Jose because of his job, and we'd all go on visitation together. When it didn't work out, my dad said he would never marry again, and he kept to his decision for about 20 years, until he retired from the fire department. He had been careful with his money, learning from his father-in-law (my maternal grandfather) about investing and saving money. He had two houses, renting out one and living in the other. When I got divorced, he took my son and I in to live with him for four months before moving us into an apartment I paid for myself. When he needed to retire due to arthritis in his back and knees, he married a woman he'd known for quite a long time who was also retiring. He sold his houses and had a lovely home built in Aptos (south of Santa Cruz, CA) and commuted until he could retire. The house was lovely, with a deck that went around the 2nd floor which overlooked the ocean. When he retired, he and Iris lived in the house and would take walks on the beach almost every day. All went well until Oct 1989 when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit, just after 5 p.m. on a Monday night. My dad was watering the yard out front and the quake knocked him to the ground. Iris had been napping in a lazy boy chair next to a bookcase and books fell down and covered her. My dad had fastened the bookcases, grandfather clocks and appliances so they would not fall in case of a quake, so only the books fell, not the heavy bookcase. My father couldn't get up until the shaking stopped, then ran inside to check on Iris. She was in the chair, trying to get books off of herself. When they watched the News, they were amazed at the extent of the damage. My dad checked the house for damage and leaks. Within a few days they found out they lived about 7 miles from the epicenter of the quake and Iris said she could never feel comfortable there again. Reluctantly, my dad put the house up for sale and they moved to El Dorado Hills, in the Sierra Nevada foothills, @ 1 hr. West of Lake Tahoe. Their new home was quite lovely, but my father always missed the beach and taking walks on the beach every day. In the mean time, Iris was diagnosed with Alzheimer's which progressed all too quickly. It proved to be too much of a strain for him to try to care for her day and night (she would stay up half the night, which was typical of the disease). He suffered from a heart attack and Nancy and I went down to try to help out. His doctor advised him that caring for Iris alone was too much of a strain, and when he came home and again tried to care for her alone, he had a second heart attack. It was such a sad situation, but, at his request (and doctor's orders), we found the best facility in the entire county and, with help from her brother, moved her into a wonderful care center. Afterwards, Dad would go to see her at least weekly, but usually more often, to sit with her and try to remind her of all of the trips they'd taken together before she lost her memory, but, in the end, she wasn't able to remember anything. She passed away May 21st, 2001 and was buried at Los Gatos Memorial Park, where they had graves that were side by side. My father would marry one last time, one year later, to Janice, who cared for him until the end of his life. She made certain that he took all of his medications and went with him to his doctor appointments. They'd go for walks together and always went to church on Sundays, until he fell and broke his hip, making him wheelchair bound. He also developed Parkinson's disease and other medical issues, and Janice cared for him full time. It was hard on her and took it's toll, but she was with him every day and night. On July 9th, he became quite ill and she called the paramedics with whom he'd become friends at the nearby fire station. They put him in an ambulance, heading for the hospital, but he died en route and could not be revived. Her daughter, Gayle, called us with the news. It doesn't seem real, somehow, that the man we talked to just about every weekend, who has always been my father and has been there for me so many times for so many years, is gone. I'm sure that all of his Loved Ones who had passed on before were waiting for him as he left his broken body and was given a new, eternal body for his soul, in Heaven, forever. I woke up this past weekend, at first thinking what would be a good time to call Dad, only to remember that he's no longer with us, that he's gone on to Heaven, to Paradise where time has no meaning and he's learned all the answers to all of the questions he ever had while alive. He is with our Lord and the Angels, something we talked about, knowing and sharing a belief that this is all temporary and he now has no aches or pains and is free of that wheelchair and his broken body forever. I miss him, my mother and grandparents, who are all in Heaven, every day.
In addition to leaving his three daughters to mourn his loss, he also leaves three grandchildren, Anthony Blair, Paul Renken and Madeline [Renken] Brady. He also is the great grandfather of Willow Moon Brady, who will be 2 yrs. of age in October 2015, and Lillian Cora Renken, who is due to be born in Sept 2015. He also leaves behind his younger brother, Lee Hampton Webb, and a nephew, Lee H. Webb IV. His wife, Janice, also has a daughter, Gayle, both of whom miss him. In lieu of flowers, he requested donations be made to the Firefighters Burn Institute in his memory, something I did gladly. May he Rest in Peace, walking on the beach with Iris.
I miss you so much, Daddy, and the only thing that comforts me, right now, is knowing that I will see you again. The tears and the migraines are my missing being with you right now, but I know we will be together again some day. Until then, Dad, know you were loved by all who knew you and will be missed until we can be with you again. Rest Peacefully in Paradise, Dad, and watch for me.
*When my father was young he had a toy rocking horse he used to "buck" on, hence the nickname "Buck".
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Thank you to everyone who visits my father's memorial. I am so grateful to you for your kindness. And Thank you to Rose Smith who continues to place flowers at my father's grave. She is a very special friend.
Robert Leon Webb, Jr. was the 1st born child and son of Robert Leon Webb, Sr. (1897-1962) and Ruth Warters Webb (1896-1991). He and his two younger brothers, Lee Hampton Webb, b.1928 (named after his paternal grandfather) and Thomas Warters Webb, b.1931 (named after his maternal grandfather, Thomas Lassiter Warters), were born and raised in Georgia, where their father worked as manager of a fertilizer plant in Cordele, Crisp County, Georgia. Ruth, their mother, had received a college education at Shorter College (now Shorter University) in Rome, Georgia, where she had been born and raised with her four sisters and brother. She had received a degree in Teaching Mathematics, which became instrumental in young Tommy's life as he was a sickly child and was not expected to live to adulthood. As it turned out, when he was ready to enter the 9th grade, he told his mother that he wanted to attend the public high school so he could be around other students his age. He not only graduated from high school, but he also went on to college, receiving his degree in Law. He became a practicing Attorney in Gainesville, Georgia, married and the father of two sons. Tommy lived until August 18, 1969, 38 years of age.
By the time Robert, affectionately known as "Buck"*, had graduated from high school in 1942 and was attending Clemson College, his father's Alma Mater, America had joined the other Atlas powers in World War II and his father was a senior officer at the Army Air Base in Columbia, South Carolina. He introduced his secretary, Patricia Jean Taylor, to his son and they began to date while she and her parents were living in Columbia, South Carolina. Robert enlisted in the Army Air Corps during this time and my mother said he was a quiet, shy boy, unlike other boys she'd dated in the past. Patsy's father was promoted to chief of the Western Region of the ICC [Interstate Commerce Commission] and transferred to San Francisco, CA. At this time, Buck and Patsy decided to marry and the ceremony took place in Oakland, California on Nov 9th, 1944. Following a brief honeymoon, he was transferred to the South Pacific and his new bride set up housekeeping at their new apartment on Manila Ave., Oakland, California. She worked for J. Edgar Kaiser at the company headquarters in Oakland, California as an executive secretary. They wrote each other, making plans for when the war ended and she kept him aware of the changes she made to their home, decorating it and awaiting his return. My future father was a radio operator on the bombers, one of a crew of six. I can only imagine how my future mother must have felt when the telegram came to inform her that her new husband was missing in action, having been shot down near Balikpapan Harbor, Borneo on June 29th, 1945. I never learned how long he and just one other crew member were in the ocean, as the other four men died from sharks, exposure or wounds. He was always reluctant to speak of it and my mother would only say that, after his discharge, when he came home to her, he would awaken with terrible nightmares. I can only imagine what he went thru or the relief he and his crew mate felt when an Australian ship happened upon them. They were picked up but had to remain on the ship until they had delivered the soldiers to an island where the fighting was fierce. Eventually, they were returned to an American base where they were both treated for exposure and wounds; my father received a Purple Heart and other medals, but didn't wear them, just put them all in a drawer after he was discharged from active duty and re-enlisted, continuing on with the National Guard in November, 1945. He came home to his wife a changed man, trying to fit into post war America. Prior to his Army service, he had done carpentry and plastering when not attending college, so went back to those trades again, although he took the civil service exam to become a fireman in San Jose, California, a career he had always dreamed of following. After three years, my mom became pregnant with my older sister and her father bought a house in Oakland, California, letting them move into it and live there for many years. My older sister, Wendy Louise, arrived on Jan 10th, 1950 and both sets of grandparents were so excited; my father's parents came out from Georgia to meet their grandchild and my mother stayed home, caring for Wendy and taking care of the house. She also planted the 1st of three Redwood trees in the backyard, one for each child. [They are huge now and still there as of 2018.] My maternal grandparents lived within a few miles of my parents and sister and my grandmother would come over frequently to help with housework, cooking meals and caring for Wendy. Just as Wendy's 1st birthday arrived, my mother found herself with child again, due in Sept 1951. I was the 2nd child, another daughter, born on Sep 29th, 1951. My mother had one last daughter, my younger sister, on Feb 19th, 1953, and named her Nancy Susan. My father had worked on their home quite a lot during this time, adding a room to the house and putting down a patio in the backyard. He was hired as a fireman for the City of San Jose in 1956, so we moved to San Jose, into a little house (on Murtha Drive) that had a patio with a partial cover. My mother had a grey kitty who loved to chase the raindrops when it rained and we would laugh and laugh. We also were old enough so we got to ride tricycles and a pedal wagon which was just right for Nancy to sit in while Wendy steered and would lead us around. My father continued to work second jobs doing carpentry and plastering in addition to being a fireman, to pay the bills. He even worked on the amusement park, Frontier Village, that I used to take my son to in the early 1970's. [It no longer exists, sad to say, as it was a great place for little kids and fun for parents, too.] My dad told me once that there were always more bills and he got really frustrated about it. None the less, when a new ranch style house became available, they bought it and we all moved in at 14549 Charmaren Avenue. My dad laid out a sidewalk that went around the entire backyard and my mom planted flowers, something she would always do, no matter where we lived. She loved gardening and we always had lovely gardens both in the front and backyards. My sister, Nancy, had to have eye surgery that was experimental back in the early 1950's, but without it she was legally blind. We all got sick with measles and chicken pox during our childhoods; there were no vaccines back then. I loved school, was eager to learn to read and write but couldn't see very well. My mom didn't drive, so we went by bus to Kaiser and I ended up with glasses, which opened a whole new world to me. I must have read every bus bench and billboard to my mother on the way home. My father's parents came out from Georgia and we went to Santa Cruz so they could see the Pacific Ocean. My grandmother went with us to have the water wash over our toes and feet, but my grandfather would have none of it, helping build sandcastles instead. Sadly, that was the only time I remember seeing my granddaddy Webb as he died in 1962. My aunt and uncle came out from New York to see us and spoiled us rotten. We were the kids they could never have. I did a lot of exploring on my own while growing up because many parents in the 1950's would let their kids "go out to play", calling them in for lunch and dinner. We always had to come home when the street lights came on. I explored an abandoned silver mine until my mom found out and told me not to go back. The fruit orchards were being cut down to make way for more houses, so I'd go play in the houses being built, making friends with the contractor who had a lovely Weimaraner dog. My mom got upset about that, too. Things weren't going well at home and when the fights started I'd go outside, if I could. Once I learned how to ride a bike, I'd go riding on my bicycle until it got late and I had to come home. Both of my parents were fighting a lot and they decided to divorce in 1958. My mother moved us back into the home we'd grown up in at Oakland and we could only see our father for Sunday "visitation". Our dad took us by train to Los Angeles so we could go to Disneyland, every kid's dream back in the early 1960's. We watched the sunset as we passed the edge of the Mojave Desert, so beautiful. We stayed at his Aunt Jane Warter's spacious apartment that overlooked Los Angeles and I was so impressed with all of the lights that night. I was also impressed with her study that had books in built-in bookcases on all the walls. She was a nice lady who was very kind to three little girls who could hardly sleep because we'd be going to Disneyland the next day. The trip ended all too soon. It was never the same after the divorce; my father remarried to a woman with a son and daughter, remaining in San Jose because of his job, and we'd all go on visitation together. When it didn't work out, my dad said he would never marry again, and he kept to his decision for about 20 years, until he retired from the fire department. He had been careful with his money, learning from his father-in-law (my maternal grandfather) about investing and saving money. He had two houses, renting out one and living in the other. When I got divorced, he took my son and I in to live with him for four months before moving us into an apartment I paid for myself. When he needed to retire due to arthritis in his back and knees, he married a woman he'd known for quite a long time who was also retiring. He sold his houses and had a lovely home built in Aptos (south of Santa Cruz, CA) and commuted until he could retire. The house was lovely, with a deck that went around the 2nd floor which overlooked the ocean. When he retired, he and Iris lived in the house and would take walks on the beach almost every day. All went well until Oct 1989 when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit, just after 5 p.m. on a Monday night. My dad was watering the yard out front and the quake knocked him to the ground. Iris had been napping in a lazy boy chair next to a bookcase and books fell down and covered her. My dad had fastened the bookcases, grandfather clocks and appliances so they would not fall in case of a quake, so only the books fell, not the heavy bookcase. My father couldn't get up until the shaking stopped, then ran inside to check on Iris. She was in the chair, trying to get books off of herself. When they watched the News, they were amazed at the extent of the damage. My dad checked the house for damage and leaks. Within a few days they found out they lived about 7 miles from the epicenter of the quake and Iris said she could never feel comfortable there again. Reluctantly, my dad put the house up for sale and they moved to El Dorado Hills, in the Sierra Nevada foothills, @ 1 hr. West of Lake Tahoe. Their new home was quite lovely, but my father always missed the beach and taking walks on the beach every day. In the mean time, Iris was diagnosed with Alzheimer's which progressed all too quickly. It proved to be too much of a strain for him to try to care for her day and night (she would stay up half the night, which was typical of the disease). He suffered from a heart attack and Nancy and I went down to try to help out. His doctor advised him that caring for Iris alone was too much of a strain, and when he came home and again tried to care for her alone, he had a second heart attack. It was such a sad situation, but, at his request (and doctor's orders), we found the best facility in the entire county and, with help from her brother, moved her into a wonderful care center. Afterwards, Dad would go to see her at least weekly, but usually more often, to sit with her and try to remind her of all of the trips they'd taken together before she lost her memory, but, in the end, she wasn't able to remember anything. She passed away May 21st, 2001 and was buried at Los Gatos Memorial Park, where they had graves that were side by side. My father would marry one last time, one year later, to Janice, who cared for him until the end of his life. She made certain that he took all of his medications and went with him to his doctor appointments. They'd go for walks together and always went to church on Sundays, until he fell and broke his hip, making him wheelchair bound. He also developed Parkinson's disease and other medical issues, and Janice cared for him full time. It was hard on her and took it's toll, but she was with him every day and night. On July 9th, he became quite ill and she called the paramedics with whom he'd become friends at the nearby fire station. They put him in an ambulance, heading for the hospital, but he died en route and could not be revived. Her daughter, Gayle, called us with the news. It doesn't seem real, somehow, that the man we talked to just about every weekend, who has always been my father and has been there for me so many times for so many years, is gone. I'm sure that all of his Loved Ones who had passed on before were waiting for him as he left his broken body and was given a new, eternal body for his soul, in Heaven, forever. I woke up this past weekend, at first thinking what would be a good time to call Dad, only to remember that he's no longer with us, that he's gone on to Heaven, to Paradise where time has no meaning and he's learned all the answers to all of the questions he ever had while alive. He is with our Lord and the Angels, something we talked about, knowing and sharing a belief that this is all temporary and he now has no aches or pains and is free of that wheelchair and his broken body forever. I miss him, my mother and grandparents, who are all in Heaven, every day.
In addition to leaving his three daughters to mourn his loss, he also leaves three grandchildren, Anthony Blair, Paul Renken and Madeline [Renken] Brady. He also is the great grandfather of Willow Moon Brady, who will be 2 yrs. of age in October 2015, and Lillian Cora Renken, who is due to be born in Sept 2015. He also leaves behind his younger brother, Lee Hampton Webb, and a nephew, Lee H. Webb IV. His wife, Janice, also has a daughter, Gayle, both of whom miss him. In lieu of flowers, he requested donations be made to the Firefighters Burn Institute in his memory, something I did gladly. May he Rest in Peace, walking on the beach with Iris.
I miss you so much, Daddy, and the only thing that comforts me, right now, is knowing that I will see you again. The tears and the migraines are my missing being with you right now, but I know we will be together again some day. Until then, Dad, know you were loved by all who knew you and will be missed until we can be with you again. Rest Peacefully in Paradise, Dad, and watch for me.
*When my father was young he had a toy rocking horse he used to "buck" on, hence the nickname "Buck".
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Thank you to everyone who visits my father's memorial. I am so grateful to you for your kindness. And Thank you to Rose Smith who continues to place flowers at my father's grave. She is a very special friend.
