I knew Raymond as Nicole’s father, since she and I were best friends at age ten. I think that being a father was the foundation stone of his will to live a good life. Raymond embodied my own mental image of ‘ideal father’ – strong, supportive, charismatic, jokester, giver of good insight and good advice. Whenever I think of Raymond now, it’s the twinkle in his eyes that stands out the most: he adored teasing and joking, getting people to laugh, and boy, could he tell stories! That was a real gift of his; you could just see how he lit up inside when telling a story. It was also how he engaged people, making them light up inside, and it’s that art of connecting, of mutually lighting each other’s inner fire, that I see as a sign of Raymond having lived this life well.
~Mary Graham
Dad’s Spirit Feet
The night before we planned to leave Hawaii, something stirred me inside. I stepped out onto the hotel balcony. I let my long hair down to blow freely in the fresh night air. Lost in my own thoughts, I stared out at the tireless ocean.
“I guess you can’t sleep either,” Dad said.
Startled, I looked over at the balcony next to mine and saw Dad sitting in his wheelchair also looking out at the ocean.
“We are so much alike, Dad,” I laughed.
Dad and I made our way quietly to the hallway and from there down to the path that led to the beach.
The last time Dad was here he was tall and walked with his own legs, I kept thinking.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” I said.
“Neither do I,” Dad replied.
As we went down the path we both kept looking out at the horizon and listening to the relaxing sound of the waves.
“Why don’t you go get in the ocean one last time?” Dad asked.
I took off my leather sandals and set them down on the path next to Dad. I tiptoed across the soft white sand which seemed to glow at night and laughed as the ocean water splashed onto my legs and ankles. I danced and whirled about, not caring that the bottom of my dress was getting soaked. I looked back at Dad, smiling and laughing with me, then I looked down at my feet which Dad had told me had the exact same shaped toes and the same high arches he once had. I imagined Dad’s spirit feet there with mine. I closed my eyes and could see his body whole – a young man filled with all the hopes and dreams of a life not yet fully lived.
As Dad and I started to head back to our hotel, tears overwhelmed me. I leaned in over Dad, wrapped both of my arms around his steady, broad shoulders, and held onto him tightly.
“I wish you could have been out there dancing with me,” I said.
I imagined being home the next day – far from this magical land – and I feared there was something more I should say before we left, something that would last. Then somehow the words came to me, words that felt right.
“In my eyes, Daddy, you will always be walking tall.”
https://mergirll.wordpress.com/dad/
~ Nicole Marie, MFA
My memories of Raymond Scott Drumheller
I first met your Father, Ray, at the same church we attended and we paled around together for most of our youth.
When I was 11 years old, I had a newspaper route in Pottstown and I needed to go on vacation with my parents. So, I asked Ray to work my route during my vacation. He did an excellent job and was very trustworthy.
As we grew older, we (Charles Erb, Ray and I) began to hangout out at Ray’s Father’s garage where we built a barbell. At that age we were interested in getting physically stronger. The barbell was made from two wash buckets, a broom stick handle, and concrete to hold them together. It weighed around 90 lbs. when finished. After the barbell was completed, we frequently used to lift it and gained strength.
Later when we had our driver’s licenses, we would take Ray’s older brother’s cars without their permission, for a joy ride but when they found out, they were angry at all of us and we didn’t do that anymore.
When I was 16 years old, I bought a race car; a 1937 Ford coupe with a corvette engine. It was very fast and the three of us would drag race it on the old route 100 by pass. Most evenings we (many of the guys in town of our age) would all meet at a place (a drive-in hamburger stand named The Tropical Treat) in Stowe, Pa., which no longer exists, to set up drag races.
Several times Ray would borrow my coupe and would take his grandmother to the store and Doctor appointments. One time he tried to show her how fast it was. He accelerated so fast that he scarred his grandmother half to death. Needless to say, she never rode in the coupe again.
Another time when I was driving, we were at a stop sign and I decided to accelerate as fast as possible, and when we did the weight of our bodies broke the bench seat off its mounts and we landed in the back of the coupe. Luckily, I kept hold of the wheel and we didn’t have an accident.
Ray finally decided that he wanted a race car of his own also and he bought one of his brother’s Mercury sedan. He didn’t like the power it had so he asked me to “soup it up”. Ray and I went to Ray Nell’s junkyard in Boyertown on a very rainy day and bought a used engine from a late model Oldsmobile. I felt sorry for the man who had to go out in the rain and remove the engine from the junked car. We took the engine to Ray’s Father’s garage and with adapters he purchased, we installed the engine. Ray liked the new vehicle and he would take it out for racing. Later Ray bought a newer Mercury and wanted to put a more powerful engine in that which I did. Ray was not a mechanic at the time but he was a great helper. And of course, he footed all the expenses.
When Ray turned 18, he enlisted in the Air Force and sold his Mercury to a friend, George Erb. He was gone for about 4 years and when he returned, I was in the Army. After that things weren’t the same. I got married and he was in the wedding. On Saturday nights his parents, their neighbors, and the two of us would go to Wildwood or Atlantic City and drink beer at the bars. If we didn’t do that, we would hang out at the local taverns in the Boyertown area.
Another thing that Ray did was to drive a Werner Company Pottstown bus after he left the Air Force. What he would do on occasion was to take the older people off the normal bus route and drive them directly to their homes. Don’t know if Werner Bus Lines ever found out about this.
About 45 years ago, there was an event which brought an old-fashioned steam locomotive through Pottstown. Ray and my son David (50 years old now) and I followed the Locomotive and its passenger cars to a railyard near King of Prussia. We got out of the car and Ray put my son on his shoulders and walked where the Locomotive was parked. I think I showed you a film of this years ago.
Later, Ray left the Bus company after several years of employment and joined Jones Motor Co. driving tractor trailers. One of the things he did was to stop at Charlie Erb’s house and mine leaving the big truck in the street. He then asked us to take a ride with him. The truck had 10-12 forward speeds but he handled it well.
I later moved to Ithaca, New York for work purposes and didn’t see Ray again until his major truck accident. I visited him in the Reading Hospital afterward and I was surprised to see how high was his spirit even after losing two legs and almost his left arm.
Ray was always my best friend.
~ David Leh
~Mary Graham
Dad’s Spirit Feet
The night before we planned to leave Hawaii, something stirred me inside. I stepped out onto the hotel balcony. I let my long hair down to blow freely in the fresh night air. Lost in my own thoughts, I stared out at the tireless ocean.
“I guess you can’t sleep either,” Dad said.
Startled, I looked over at the balcony next to mine and saw Dad sitting in his wheelchair also looking out at the ocean.
“We are so much alike, Dad,” I laughed.
Dad and I made our way quietly to the hallway and from there down to the path that led to the beach.
The last time Dad was here he was tall and walked with his own legs, I kept thinking.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” I said.
“Neither do I,” Dad replied.
As we went down the path we both kept looking out at the horizon and listening to the relaxing sound of the waves.
“Why don’t you go get in the ocean one last time?” Dad asked.
I took off my leather sandals and set them down on the path next to Dad. I tiptoed across the soft white sand which seemed to glow at night and laughed as the ocean water splashed onto my legs and ankles. I danced and whirled about, not caring that the bottom of my dress was getting soaked. I looked back at Dad, smiling and laughing with me, then I looked down at my feet which Dad had told me had the exact same shaped toes and the same high arches he once had. I imagined Dad’s spirit feet there with mine. I closed my eyes and could see his body whole – a young man filled with all the hopes and dreams of a life not yet fully lived.
As Dad and I started to head back to our hotel, tears overwhelmed me. I leaned in over Dad, wrapped both of my arms around his steady, broad shoulders, and held onto him tightly.
“I wish you could have been out there dancing with me,” I said.
I imagined being home the next day – far from this magical land – and I feared there was something more I should say before we left, something that would last. Then somehow the words came to me, words that felt right.
“In my eyes, Daddy, you will always be walking tall.”
https://mergirll.wordpress.com/dad/
~ Nicole Marie, MFA
My memories of Raymond Scott Drumheller
I first met your Father, Ray, at the same church we attended and we paled around together for most of our youth.
When I was 11 years old, I had a newspaper route in Pottstown and I needed to go on vacation with my parents. So, I asked Ray to work my route during my vacation. He did an excellent job and was very trustworthy.
As we grew older, we (Charles Erb, Ray and I) began to hangout out at Ray’s Father’s garage where we built a barbell. At that age we were interested in getting physically stronger. The barbell was made from two wash buckets, a broom stick handle, and concrete to hold them together. It weighed around 90 lbs. when finished. After the barbell was completed, we frequently used to lift it and gained strength.
Later when we had our driver’s licenses, we would take Ray’s older brother’s cars without their permission, for a joy ride but when they found out, they were angry at all of us and we didn’t do that anymore.
When I was 16 years old, I bought a race car; a 1937 Ford coupe with a corvette engine. It was very fast and the three of us would drag race it on the old route 100 by pass. Most evenings we (many of the guys in town of our age) would all meet at a place (a drive-in hamburger stand named The Tropical Treat) in Stowe, Pa., which no longer exists, to set up drag races.
Several times Ray would borrow my coupe and would take his grandmother to the store and Doctor appointments. One time he tried to show her how fast it was. He accelerated so fast that he scarred his grandmother half to death. Needless to say, she never rode in the coupe again.
Another time when I was driving, we were at a stop sign and I decided to accelerate as fast as possible, and when we did the weight of our bodies broke the bench seat off its mounts and we landed in the back of the coupe. Luckily, I kept hold of the wheel and we didn’t have an accident.
Ray finally decided that he wanted a race car of his own also and he bought one of his brother’s Mercury sedan. He didn’t like the power it had so he asked me to “soup it up”. Ray and I went to Ray Nell’s junkyard in Boyertown on a very rainy day and bought a used engine from a late model Oldsmobile. I felt sorry for the man who had to go out in the rain and remove the engine from the junked car. We took the engine to Ray’s Father’s garage and with adapters he purchased, we installed the engine. Ray liked the new vehicle and he would take it out for racing. Later Ray bought a newer Mercury and wanted to put a more powerful engine in that which I did. Ray was not a mechanic at the time but he was a great helper. And of course, he footed all the expenses.
When Ray turned 18, he enlisted in the Air Force and sold his Mercury to a friend, George Erb. He was gone for about 4 years and when he returned, I was in the Army. After that things weren’t the same. I got married and he was in the wedding. On Saturday nights his parents, their neighbors, and the two of us would go to Wildwood or Atlantic City and drink beer at the bars. If we didn’t do that, we would hang out at the local taverns in the Boyertown area.
Another thing that Ray did was to drive a Werner Company Pottstown bus after he left the Air Force. What he would do on occasion was to take the older people off the normal bus route and drive them directly to their homes. Don’t know if Werner Bus Lines ever found out about this.
About 45 years ago, there was an event which brought an old-fashioned steam locomotive through Pottstown. Ray and my son David (50 years old now) and I followed the Locomotive and its passenger cars to a railyard near King of Prussia. We got out of the car and Ray put my son on his shoulders and walked where the Locomotive was parked. I think I showed you a film of this years ago.
Later, Ray left the Bus company after several years of employment and joined Jones Motor Co. driving tractor trailers. One of the things he did was to stop at Charlie Erb’s house and mine leaving the big truck in the street. He then asked us to take a ride with him. The truck had 10-12 forward speeds but he handled it well.
I later moved to Ithaca, New York for work purposes and didn’t see Ray again until his major truck accident. I visited him in the Reading Hospital afterward and I was surprised to see how high was his spirit even after losing two legs and almost his left arm.
Ray was always my best friend.
~ David Leh
I knew Raymond as Nicole’s father, since she and I were best friends at age ten. I think that being a father was the foundation stone of his will to live a good life. Raymond embodied my own mental image of ‘ideal father’ – strong, supportive, charismatic, jokester, giver of good insight and good advice. Whenever I think of Raymond now, it’s the twinkle in his eyes that stands out the most: he adored teasing and joking, getting people to laugh, and boy, could he tell stories! That was a real gift of his; you could just see how he lit up inside when telling a story. It was also how he engaged people, making them light up inside, and it’s that art of connecting, of mutually lighting each other’s inner fire, that I see as a sign of Raymond having lived this life well.
~Mary Graham
Dad’s Spirit Feet
The night before we planned to leave Hawaii, something stirred me inside. I stepped out onto the hotel balcony. I let my long hair down to blow freely in the fresh night air. Lost in my own thoughts, I stared out at the tireless ocean.
“I guess you can’t sleep either,” Dad said.
Startled, I looked over at the balcony next to mine and saw Dad sitting in his wheelchair also looking out at the ocean.
“We are so much alike, Dad,” I laughed.
Dad and I made our way quietly to the hallway and from there down to the path that led to the beach.
The last time Dad was here he was tall and walked with his own legs, I kept thinking.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” I said.
“Neither do I,” Dad replied.
As we went down the path we both kept looking out at the horizon and listening to the relaxing sound of the waves.
“Why don’t you go get in the ocean one last time?” Dad asked.
I took off my leather sandals and set them down on the path next to Dad. I tiptoed across the soft white sand which seemed to glow at night and laughed as the ocean water splashed onto my legs and ankles. I danced and whirled about, not caring that the bottom of my dress was getting soaked. I looked back at Dad, smiling and laughing with me, then I looked down at my feet which Dad had told me had the exact same shaped toes and the same high arches he once had. I imagined Dad’s spirit feet there with mine. I closed my eyes and could see his body whole – a young man filled with all the hopes and dreams of a life not yet fully lived.
As Dad and I started to head back to our hotel, tears overwhelmed me. I leaned in over Dad, wrapped both of my arms around his steady, broad shoulders, and held onto him tightly.
“I wish you could have been out there dancing with me,” I said.
I imagined being home the next day – far from this magical land – and I feared there was something more I should say before we left, something that would last. Then somehow the words came to me, words that felt right.
“In my eyes, Daddy, you will always be walking tall.”
https://mergirll.wordpress.com/dad/
~ Nicole Marie, MFA
My memories of Raymond Scott Drumheller
I first met your Father, Ray, at the same church we attended and we paled around together for most of our youth.
When I was 11 years old, I had a newspaper route in Pottstown and I needed to go on vacation with my parents. So, I asked Ray to work my route during my vacation. He did an excellent job and was very trustworthy.
As we grew older, we (Charles Erb, Ray and I) began to hangout out at Ray’s Father’s garage where we built a barbell. At that age we were interested in getting physically stronger. The barbell was made from two wash buckets, a broom stick handle, and concrete to hold them together. It weighed around 90 lbs. when finished. After the barbell was completed, we frequently used to lift it and gained strength.
Later when we had our driver’s licenses, we would take Ray’s older brother’s cars without their permission, for a joy ride but when they found out, they were angry at all of us and we didn’t do that anymore.
When I was 16 years old, I bought a race car; a 1937 Ford coupe with a corvette engine. It was very fast and the three of us would drag race it on the old route 100 by pass. Most evenings we (many of the guys in town of our age) would all meet at a place (a drive-in hamburger stand named The Tropical Treat) in Stowe, Pa., which no longer exists, to set up drag races.
Several times Ray would borrow my coupe and would take his grandmother to the store and Doctor appointments. One time he tried to show her how fast it was. He accelerated so fast that he scarred his grandmother half to death. Needless to say, she never rode in the coupe again.
Another time when I was driving, we were at a stop sign and I decided to accelerate as fast as possible, and when we did the weight of our bodies broke the bench seat off its mounts and we landed in the back of the coupe. Luckily, I kept hold of the wheel and we didn’t have an accident.
Ray finally decided that he wanted a race car of his own also and he bought one of his brother’s Mercury sedan. He didn’t like the power it had so he asked me to “soup it up”. Ray and I went to Ray Nell’s junkyard in Boyertown on a very rainy day and bought a used engine from a late model Oldsmobile. I felt sorry for the man who had to go out in the rain and remove the engine from the junked car. We took the engine to Ray’s Father’s garage and with adapters he purchased, we installed the engine. Ray liked the new vehicle and he would take it out for racing. Later Ray bought a newer Mercury and wanted to put a more powerful engine in that which I did. Ray was not a mechanic at the time but he was a great helper. And of course, he footed all the expenses.
When Ray turned 18, he enlisted in the Air Force and sold his Mercury to a friend, George Erb. He was gone for about 4 years and when he returned, I was in the Army. After that things weren’t the same. I got married and he was in the wedding. On Saturday nights his parents, their neighbors, and the two of us would go to Wildwood or Atlantic City and drink beer at the bars. If we didn’t do that, we would hang out at the local taverns in the Boyertown area.
Another thing that Ray did was to drive a Werner Company Pottstown bus after he left the Air Force. What he would do on occasion was to take the older people off the normal bus route and drive them directly to their homes. Don’t know if Werner Bus Lines ever found out about this.
About 45 years ago, there was an event which brought an old-fashioned steam locomotive through Pottstown. Ray and my son David (50 years old now) and I followed the Locomotive and its passenger cars to a railyard near King of Prussia. We got out of the car and Ray put my son on his shoulders and walked where the Locomotive was parked. I think I showed you a film of this years ago.
Later, Ray left the Bus company after several years of employment and joined Jones Motor Co. driving tractor trailers. One of the things he did was to stop at Charlie Erb’s house and mine leaving the big truck in the street. He then asked us to take a ride with him. The truck had 10-12 forward speeds but he handled it well.
I later moved to Ithaca, New York for work purposes and didn’t see Ray again until his major truck accident. I visited him in the Reading Hospital afterward and I was surprised to see how high was his spirit even after losing two legs and almost his left arm.
Ray was always my best friend.
~ David Leh
~Mary Graham
Dad’s Spirit Feet
The night before we planned to leave Hawaii, something stirred me inside. I stepped out onto the hotel balcony. I let my long hair down to blow freely in the fresh night air. Lost in my own thoughts, I stared out at the tireless ocean.
“I guess you can’t sleep either,” Dad said.
Startled, I looked over at the balcony next to mine and saw Dad sitting in his wheelchair also looking out at the ocean.
“We are so much alike, Dad,” I laughed.
Dad and I made our way quietly to the hallway and from there down to the path that led to the beach.
The last time Dad was here he was tall and walked with his own legs, I kept thinking.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” I said.
“Neither do I,” Dad replied.
As we went down the path we both kept looking out at the horizon and listening to the relaxing sound of the waves.
“Why don’t you go get in the ocean one last time?” Dad asked.
I took off my leather sandals and set them down on the path next to Dad. I tiptoed across the soft white sand which seemed to glow at night and laughed as the ocean water splashed onto my legs and ankles. I danced and whirled about, not caring that the bottom of my dress was getting soaked. I looked back at Dad, smiling and laughing with me, then I looked down at my feet which Dad had told me had the exact same shaped toes and the same high arches he once had. I imagined Dad’s spirit feet there with mine. I closed my eyes and could see his body whole – a young man filled with all the hopes and dreams of a life not yet fully lived.
As Dad and I started to head back to our hotel, tears overwhelmed me. I leaned in over Dad, wrapped both of my arms around his steady, broad shoulders, and held onto him tightly.
“I wish you could have been out there dancing with me,” I said.
I imagined being home the next day – far from this magical land – and I feared there was something more I should say before we left, something that would last. Then somehow the words came to me, words that felt right.
“In my eyes, Daddy, you will always be walking tall.”
https://mergirll.wordpress.com/dad/
~ Nicole Marie, MFA
My memories of Raymond Scott Drumheller
I first met your Father, Ray, at the same church we attended and we paled around together for most of our youth.
When I was 11 years old, I had a newspaper route in Pottstown and I needed to go on vacation with my parents. So, I asked Ray to work my route during my vacation. He did an excellent job and was very trustworthy.
As we grew older, we (Charles Erb, Ray and I) began to hangout out at Ray’s Father’s garage where we built a barbell. At that age we were interested in getting physically stronger. The barbell was made from two wash buckets, a broom stick handle, and concrete to hold them together. It weighed around 90 lbs. when finished. After the barbell was completed, we frequently used to lift it and gained strength.
Later when we had our driver’s licenses, we would take Ray’s older brother’s cars without their permission, for a joy ride but when they found out, they were angry at all of us and we didn’t do that anymore.
When I was 16 years old, I bought a race car; a 1937 Ford coupe with a corvette engine. It was very fast and the three of us would drag race it on the old route 100 by pass. Most evenings we (many of the guys in town of our age) would all meet at a place (a drive-in hamburger stand named The Tropical Treat) in Stowe, Pa., which no longer exists, to set up drag races.
Several times Ray would borrow my coupe and would take his grandmother to the store and Doctor appointments. One time he tried to show her how fast it was. He accelerated so fast that he scarred his grandmother half to death. Needless to say, she never rode in the coupe again.
Another time when I was driving, we were at a stop sign and I decided to accelerate as fast as possible, and when we did the weight of our bodies broke the bench seat off its mounts and we landed in the back of the coupe. Luckily, I kept hold of the wheel and we didn’t have an accident.
Ray finally decided that he wanted a race car of his own also and he bought one of his brother’s Mercury sedan. He didn’t like the power it had so he asked me to “soup it up”. Ray and I went to Ray Nell’s junkyard in Boyertown on a very rainy day and bought a used engine from a late model Oldsmobile. I felt sorry for the man who had to go out in the rain and remove the engine from the junked car. We took the engine to Ray’s Father’s garage and with adapters he purchased, we installed the engine. Ray liked the new vehicle and he would take it out for racing. Later Ray bought a newer Mercury and wanted to put a more powerful engine in that which I did. Ray was not a mechanic at the time but he was a great helper. And of course, he footed all the expenses.
When Ray turned 18, he enlisted in the Air Force and sold his Mercury to a friend, George Erb. He was gone for about 4 years and when he returned, I was in the Army. After that things weren’t the same. I got married and he was in the wedding. On Saturday nights his parents, their neighbors, and the two of us would go to Wildwood or Atlantic City and drink beer at the bars. If we didn’t do that, we would hang out at the local taverns in the Boyertown area.
Another thing that Ray did was to drive a Werner Company Pottstown bus after he left the Air Force. What he would do on occasion was to take the older people off the normal bus route and drive them directly to their homes. Don’t know if Werner Bus Lines ever found out about this.
About 45 years ago, there was an event which brought an old-fashioned steam locomotive through Pottstown. Ray and my son David (50 years old now) and I followed the Locomotive and its passenger cars to a railyard near King of Prussia. We got out of the car and Ray put my son on his shoulders and walked where the Locomotive was parked. I think I showed you a film of this years ago.
Later, Ray left the Bus company after several years of employment and joined Jones Motor Co. driving tractor trailers. One of the things he did was to stop at Charlie Erb’s house and mine leaving the big truck in the street. He then asked us to take a ride with him. The truck had 10-12 forward speeds but he handled it well.
I later moved to Ithaca, New York for work purposes and didn’t see Ray again until his major truck accident. I visited him in the Reading Hospital afterward and I was surprised to see how high was his spirit even after losing two legs and almost his left arm.
Ray was always my best friend.
~ David Leh
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Raymond S Drumheller
USAF Atomic Veteran
Johnston Island Air Force Base
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