My Father’s Tie
My father, Morrison Fenton Wright, was born in 1916 to a Navy commander and a consummate housewife. They moved around a bit then settled permanently in San Diego, California. A significant part of San Diego is a huge valley that runs from the sea, eastward about fifteen miles, named Mission Valley (named, I suppose because of the mission near Old Town that stands out on a hillside at the west end.) San Diego was the southernmost point where, in the 1700’s, Spanish Father Junipero Serra built the first of his twenty-one missions all up the California Coast.
My grandparent’s home was one of the homes along the top of the ridge overlooking this valley and beyond the ridge on the opposite side of the valley. This Spanish style house had rooms painted lavender, peach and sky blue. It was the prettiest thing I ever saw. It had a little courtyard with two stairs that was covered with bougainvillea and honeysuckle. The front yard had a rose garden.
Behind the house where the wonderful view lay was a row of Eucalyptus trees and behind the detached garage was a pomegranate tree, just right for a child to sit in and eat pomegranates. One of the eucalyptus trees had initials carved in it by my husband, DS loves MW.
But I digress.
My father was an Irish tenor who sang all the way through high school and then in quartets. He also played a clarinet in dance bands around the San Diego area, especially at Balboa Park, home of the San Diego Exposition grounds, which were built in 1915 to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal.
My mother said as soon as she met my father on a blind date, she was in love. It may have had something to do with the white suit he wore. It may have had something to do with the bold purple tie.