I received the terrible news that my father had passed in Escondido, California, after a brief illness. He was 85; it was December 7th, 1994. I was teaching at Sollars Elementary School in Misawa, Japan, when the news came from the Red Cross. I hurried back to California. You can imagine how upset my mother and sister were. There was a nice memorial service for Rolf ; my mom kept my dad’s ashes in the house with a blooming orchid beside a decorated container. I think she was awaiting for her time to come.
My sister, Jerry Karen, moved in with my mother for the next several years. When summer vacation came, Clarice and I flew from our work in Japan to San Diego and drove up to Carlsbad. We visited my mom and sister daily for about a week, then went off to Iowa to be with Clarice’s relatives. We had a home in Louisville, Colorado, and a car, my Chevy S-10 Tahoe. It took us up and down the Rockies and across the eastern plain.
In the summer of 1997, my mother passed. She was 84. Jerry Karen and her family and I took our parents’ ashes up on the mountain, near the Wilson Observatory and scattered them. My dad loved the area and my mom did too.
In 1998, my sister passed suddenly. She was only 53. Two of her children lived nearby and she had them and her grandchildren to help spend her time. She had sold the family home in Escondido and moved to a modern trailer home on the other side of town. I came to California and visited with the family. It was a rude awakening that I was the last surviving member of my immediate family.
I ask a lot of questions and I always relied on my parents to help refresh my memory. It was such a shock to think about a family event and not be able to recall the exact details, and, then not have anyone left to rely on for those personal moments we shared. The loss of my family was sad, of course, but not being able to talk together was actually worse. My parents had great recall and my sister and I were the benefactors of those stories and memories. For years after their passing, I had questions…
My parents were married on July 13, 1936 and when my dad died, they had been married 58 years. They were a great team, Rolf and Melitza. They were wonderful role models, hard workers who believed they could plan and meet all life’s challenges with the right amount of understanding. They loved the chances at a better life that ARAMCO afforded them.
Our family was connected to ARAMCO from 1944 to the present day. My father and family left the field in November 1961. Post Office Box #1383 and badge #159 were finally retired. I came to work in Dhahran in 1982 through 1985. In between and since, ARAMCO holds reunions and there are many informal mini-reunions, newsletters, and magazines. I attend reunions occasionally. Many of my ARAMCO friends have email contact. So, the ARAMCO experience is ongoing- all these years later.
The Standard Oil Company risk of investment, plowing billions of dollars into a primitive desert and marine environment, building the oil camp of Dhahran, importing an experienced labor force, opening the oil fields and transportation infrastructure, the development of the Dhahran Airfield, the establishment of a superior medical facility in Dhahran, the training of a huge, capable Saudi Arab work force to include university graduates, were all inherited by the new ARAMCO, Saudi Aramco.
My family benefited from the Saudi oil experience. It secured their future and retirement. I benefited too. There were sacrifices, misunderstandings, culture clashes, roaring rumors, and hurt feelings, but the coming together of the East and the West in the mega-business venture that was ARAMCO was basically positive. I still think being referred to as an ARAMCON is a compliment.
And, Dhahran will always be my home.