My father's full name
Ralph Abraham (R. A.) Ambuehl
When and where he was born
April 6, 1947
Washington state
My father grew up in
Washington state; Cuba; Miami, FL.
My father's best story about growing up
Whenever he was naughty, his mom sent him to his room, which was, unbeknownst to her, not really a punishment because then he could read his books in peace.
Growing up in Cuba, he saw public executions on T.V. He, his brother, and sister were quite the novelty because they were blonde-haired and blue-eyed. The Cuban children would stare at them unabashedly.
His father sold books, so they traveled a lot. I have a number of the children's books his father sold. They have been bequeathed to my daughter, and she cherishes them as much as I do.
His dad once got so mad at my dad's brother because he wouldn't get in the car that he caught his sleeve in the car door and dragged him down the driveway.
His Nana and Baba's house in Miami with all the cats.
Screaming for my mom to get a broom so he could swipe the spiders from the ceiling. He was asleep. There were no spiders. He nearly gave her a heart attack.
My favorite memory of my father
He would carry me from the car to my room when I fell asleep on long drives. Sometimes, I just pretended to be asleep so he would carry me to my bed. I felt safe and loved in his arms.
One evening, he was out working in the yard. I panicked for some inexplicable reason. I felt so alone and frightened. My sister didn't know what to do with me (she's younger by two years), so she finally opened the front door and shouted, "Dawn! He's out here!" He rushed to me and gave me a huge hug.
The sad look in his eyes when I told him I wanted to change my name to dawn marie and drop the last name. You'll notice I hyphenated my name when I got married. I guess I changed my mind.
The time I told him that I never wanted to have children (by giving birth) and that I wanted to adopt when I was 30 - you know - OLD. He asked me how I was going to do that without a husband. I didn't agree with him, and I disagree even now because I believe many women are up to the task. Even though he may not have used the right words, he was trying to help me understand the important role of a father in a child's life.
When I was 15, I wrote a sort of suicide note at school, which my teacher gave to the counselor, the counselor to my mom, and my mom to my dad. He took me to lunch one afternoon while we were out shopping for psychiatric help, and he looked at me accusingly and asked, "What right do you have to take your own life? Do you know what you are putting us through?" I felt very ashamed of myself, but, by his saying that, I realized the depth of his and my mom's love for me. It gave me the push I needed to at least try to get better.
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