Work Families

During my working years, I was blessed to work for several companies where the employees became like family.

In 1978, I went to work for CF Braun & Co. Larry had already been employed there for thirteen years at the time. For the first six months, I was on probation (standard at the time). I felt as though I had to prove myself worthy to work there.

Once I had passed the test, however, I could have stayed for as long as I wanted. Many employees had been there for forty years or more. I was a “lifer” and would have stayed until retirement. Except, it wasn’t an option. The company was sold twice. With each sale, they lost customers. I left because we didn’t feel it was prudent for both of us to be employed by the same company.

During my seven years there, many fellow employees became closer than family. (Larry worked for the company for over thirty years in several different iterations and owners.) Even after both of us left, we remained in touch. We are still close to most of them, and we have groups on both Facebook and LinkedIn where we continue to share information.

About ten years later, after we moed to Orange County, I went to work for HC Power, inc. Once again, joining a new company was not an easy transition, and I felt I had to prove myself. However, soon these fellow employees became like another family.

I left in 1998 to work for three years in Japan. During my absence, the company was sold to PowerOne. I was asked to return in 2002 when we came back from Osaka, and I felt right at home once again. However, about eight months after I returned, PowerOne announced they were moving the manufacturing offshore and closing their California facilities.

We were such a close group, for the first two years after the company closed, we met on the first Friday of each month after work—just because we missed each other. We have groups on Facebook and LinkedIn to keep in touch.

In January, we suddenly lost one “brother,” Mehron “Ron” Khatiblou. I had worked with him in Engineering. I was out of town on the day of his memorial service, so I was unable to attend.

His month, we lost another “brother,” Raul Valerio, my former boss, in a paragliding accident. Last Friday, the “family” joined his family and friends to celebrate his life. I loved seeing everyone but wished the occasion had been a happier one.

The next place I worked, Downey Savings and Loan, was another extended family. Once again, few people who worked there ever left. I was employed there for seven years.

I adored the people. However, at the end of 2008, the FDIC closed the company—another victim of the banking collapse. I stayed on until mid-2009 to help with the closure.

Once again, we continue stay in touch through Facebook and LinkedIn. We have gotten together several times, and we all still miss seeing our friends.

My last job was a contract for Parker Aerospace, a subsidiary of Parker Hannifin. And once again, I felt as though I were coming home to a family. Many employees had been with the company for forty years, and few people left.

Even though I was only there for one year, I felt as though I had been at home.

Some people are lucky enough to work for one of these kinds of companies. I was blessed to work for several, and I continue to be grateful to count former employees of these companies among my close friends.

Lost and Found

My father died in 1954 when I was seven and my brother was four. We also lost contact with most of my father’s family. My paternal grandfather bailed. He was an alcoholic, and he and my mother actively disliked each other.

In 1923, when his wife died leaving three children, the oldest of whom was my father at six, my grandfather sent them to live with his older sister. They only saw their father on holidays until my dad started high school. Then he came home and brought the girls with him. He took responsibility for his two younger sisters until they graduated from high school themselves. I have always wondered if my grandfather felt guilty for not raising his own children.

One of my aunts, Rose, lived in Redding with her family. My dad had cut ties with her several years earlier because of her abusive husband, so we hadn’t seen any of them for some time. When I was eight or nine, her children were in our town to visit their paternal grandmother. (Unbeknownst to us, two of our great aunts also lived in our town. My father had nothing to do with them, either, because of their lifestyle. But my cousins visited.)

Their mother called and asked if the kids could come to our house for a couple of days. My cousin, Margaret, and I were close in age. We had such a wonderful time together. Even though she was only there for a couple of days, we both remember it as a great experience. However, we didn’t see each other again for many years.

My dad’s other sister, Mary Evelyn, lived with her family in Sacramento. She and my mother loved each other very much. She was in the military in WWII at the same time as my dad. My mother wrote each of them daily.

She had four children. However, her husband spent several years in and out of mental hospitals. She always worked full-time. As a single parent, so did my mother. The distance between our two families made visiting prohibitive, and long-distance phone calls were far too expensive. Over time, we lost track of her family as well.

After Mary Evelyn’s husband died, she moved to San Diego, where she began to do genealogy research. She located my brother, who gave her our contact information. When she called for the first time, we invited her to lunch the following Saturday.

When she and my mother saw each other, it was clear they still loved each other. From then until her death several years later, we saw her every few months. She attended our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration. I adored her and treasure every minute I got to share with her.

My cousins on my dad’s side of the family remained lost until I located a couple of her children on Facebook. They led me to their siblings as well as Margaret. My family now felt restored.

On Memorial Day of 2011, Mary Evelyn’s son, Roger, invited us to his home for a barbeque. His sister, Suzanne, also came. What a joy to be reunited with them.

Roger, Suzanne, and me

My cousin Margaret was also supposed to have been with us, but she was unable to make it. A couple of weeks later, she was in Orange County. We made arrangements for her to go to church with us and to see my mother in the nursing home. What a great blessing. This was the last day Mom was lucid.

Me, Mom, and Margaret

In March of 2013, Margaret and Suzanne came to Dana Point for a few days. During the time they were with us, we visited San Gabriel Mission and found our grandmother’s grave together. I had tried to locate it years before, but had been unsuccessful. This time, we found it as well as the graves of her brother and her parents.

Lunch in Dana Point: Larry, me, Margaret, Suzanne

Four cousins at our grandmother’s grave: Ron, Margaret, Me, Suzanne

Roger and Suzanne flew down for our fiftieth anniversary celebration. They were the only members of my dad’s side of the family to attend, and I felt very blessed to have them!

Suzanne, Larry, me, Roger

Last September, we drove to Sacramento to meet Roger and Suzanne’s younger brother, Ted. Roger’s twin, Steve, was supposed to come, too, but he wasn’t able to make it. Ted was in town for a high school reunion. This was the first time I ever met him. Unfortunately, none of us thought to take any pictures. Roger barbequed, and we had a great time. We also met Suzanne’s daughter, Sarah, and her family.

In October, Sarah called to say she and Suzanne were coming to Orange County to go to Disneyland and celebrate Suzanne’s birthday. We took all of them out for dinner. This was the first time I had ever been able to celebrate Suzanne’s birthday with her.

Last Wednesday morning, we received an early phone call from Roger. He could barely breathe, but he said he had nearly died the night before. (I still haven’t heard all the details.) He wanted to tell me how much he loved me and how thankful he was that we had been able to reconnect after so many years.

I told him how much I loved him, too. He said how blessed he felt with a wife he adored and a loving extended family. I told hm to save his breath and that I was going to put him on two prayer chains. Later in the day, he called again to be sure to tell my brother he was loved as well. (They had seen each other at our fiftieth anniversary party.)

The next day, he called again and told me to call off my prayer warriors. (Didn’t happen.) He said he was feeling much better with only a couple of other tests to be completed. He sounded optimistic and ready to get back to his activities.

On Saturday, Sarah called to tell me Roger had suffered a heart attack during the night. He didn’t survive. I am heartbroken, and at the same time, I feel so very blessed to have found him again. We shared wonderful memories, and we had closure.

I will always love Roger and remember him with love. I told him the first time I met Ingrid, “She’s family, and I’m keeping her.” I meant it then, and I mean it now.

RIP, Roger, until we meet again. Thank you for loving me and allowing me to love you.

Roger and Ingrid. This is my favorite photo of them.