My Daddy was born in Wardville, Oklahoma on August 16, 1918. His Daddy was born there, too, except back then, Wardville was called White Field, and was in Indian Territory.

My Daddy was Homer Carroll Johnson (though people always called him Carroll), and his parents were Carroll Esco Johnson and Everal B. Van Horn Johnson. He had one sister whose name was Gwendolyn. She was very beautiful. My grandparents liked to travel and see new places and I think they moved around a lot. They seemed to go from Oklahoma to Oregon to Texas to New Mexico. With California thrown in occasionally.

When my Mother and Dad met, my Johnson grandparents had moved to Portales, New Mexico and bought a small grocery store (of course all grocery stores were small in those days). I have been told that my Dad had a very good personality and had a great sense of humor. Everyone says that he was a very nice guy and everyone liked him a lot. I have also been told that my Daddy had a beautiful voice and really liked to sing. He also played the guitar and harmonica. I don't remember ever hearing him sing and play, and I find that so sad!

From all that I have heard, it is no wonder that my Mother, Christine Marie Lovorn, fell in love with him and they finally eloped. My parents came from pretty different backgrounds but then again their backgrounds were very much the same. They were quite a paradox.

I remember the day my Dad climbed on the big bus, in front of the courthouse on the square in Portales, New Mexico. Oh, he was so handsome! And seemed to be so sad. The bus took him away to "The War" with a handful of other men who were also going to "The War." It was a very solemn day. He was 26, and I was 5.

I also remember very well the day THE TELEGRAM came. We lived in a very tiny house in the back of a big house. We received our mail in the box on the landlady's front porch. We didn't have a car so the four of us had walked to the store which was a few blocks away. I remember that although the day was very warm, I was carrying two ice cold bottles of milk, and I was about to freeze. I kept having to stop and change the position of the bottles.....oh they were cold!

My Mother was carrying my little brother, plus a sack of groceries. I can still see my little sister holding on to the hem of Mother's dress. We stopped at the mailbox on the landlady's porch. Mother put my brother down on the ground while she looked through the mail. We continued walking along while mother was sifting through all of the envelopes. All of a sudden, she gave a strangled cry and dropped the sack of groceries. She started running to our house. I "knew" what had happened. I took the milk and put it in the icebox (yes, we still had one), and took my little brother and sister into the kitchen and told them to be very quiet because I thought our Daddy was dead. I went back outside and picked up the groceries and making several trips, I carried them into the house and put them away. My Mother was on her bed crying all this time.

That is all I remember until the next day when all of my Mother's family were all gathered on the front porch at my grandmother's house (or my aunt's, I can't remember). Do you all remember how the women would be in the house and the men would be standing around on the porch or in the yard? That's the way it was.

I want my Daddy's picture on this page so that everyone can see a wonderful Dad who went away to war to fight to keep his family safe. He was a hero. He left behind his three children, who have missed him every day of their lives.

We love you Daddy.