En memoria de Ernest C. Diaz, 1932-2008

Mi padrastro, Ernest C. Diaz, nació en St. Louis, MO el sábado, Mayo 21, 1932. It was the same day Amelia Earhart became the first woman to cross the Atlantic Ocean in an airplane. Papá era el más joven de los cinco hijos de José (Josef) Díaz y María Díaz Moellenberg.

Dad said the family did not have a lot of money, so he and his buddies used to steal doughnuts off the trays the local baker put out to load on to his truck. You would think after the first few times the doughnuts were taken the man would watch the pastries or not leave them on the rack. I think the baker probably knew and was helping out some of the neighborhood kids.

The Soulard neighborhood Dad grew up in does not really exist today. All the houses were torn down around S. 3rd Street and replaced with warehouses and parking lots. His church, St. Peter and Paul, is still a landmark though.

Dad would serve in the U.S. Army during the Korean War. He made Sergeant twice but got busted back to Corporal both times.

The first time he got into a fight with a bunch of Marines, when he was on leave in Seoul. The second time he knocked out a new 2nd Lieutenant, who critiqued Dad’s gun crew. While Dad was in Korea, his father Joseph died of stomach cancer.

He married his first wife Shirley around this time. They would have five daughters together: Vicki, Gail, Janie, Tracey and Kelly. Dad was married to a woman named Evelyn for about 7 years in the 1970s. He married my mother, who had three young kids, on June 8, 1981.

It took a lot of character for Dad, quien fue 49 años de edad, to marry a woman with three children, who were not even in their teens yet. When my father struggled with alcoholism, Dad stepped in and filled the role of father during our childhood and adulthood. He was present at our graduations, weddings and the birth of our children.

Dad had a unique sense of humor. You never quite knew what he was going to say. When we would get on his nerves, he would always say, “Why don’t you go play in traffic on Hampton Avenue?” He would tease people but he never said anything bad about anyone. He did not want to hurt people’s feelings. I could count on one hand the number of times we saw him get mad.

One of his more humorous quips resulted in the naming of one of Mom’s dishes. Mom made a new chicken soup, which had a lot of dumplings and vegetables. We really liked it but Dad was feeling his oats. He asked Mom, “Is this the kind of soup, where you run the chicken through the pot and then wrap it up to have it another night?”

When he saw the fire come from her eyes, he realized she did not get his funny, so he replied, “You did manage to get some chicken in it.” At which point, the three of us busted up laughing.

Mom made one or two off-color comments and threatened to never make it again. We begged her to keep making it because the four of us really liked it. Más tarde, she saw the humor in the situation and named the soup, “Wave the Chicken Over the Pot Soup”.

Dad taught us how to love in the way he treated our mother and how he interacted with people. He would literally give someone the shirt off his back. He was taken from us far too soon on Thursday, Noviembre 20, 2008. It has been almost five years but he is still greatly missed by Mom, his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Dad does not have any statutes dedicated to him but he left a lasting legacy of 8 children, numerous grandchildren, great grandchildren and two great-great grandchildren plus tons of wonderful memories. Godspeed, Papá.

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