Memories of Tom

It has been over three weeks since my brother Tom left us. As happens with profound loss, the initial shock and pain dominates for awhile. Grief comes in waves after that. Everything will seem o.k. for a while, and then an image or memory will come up, and I start sobbing again. I realize that everyone grieves differently, and even then, each death carries its own significance. For those who were accustomed to seeing the departed on a daily, or regular basis, that empty space is a chasm of continual loss. At least, that's how it was for me when my. sister Laurie died at 16. 

It isn't that I saw Tom that much in the past couple of decades. Of course there were the annual "Markfests" which were stressful for Tom and myself. I can't say why for sure. We have had this tradition for our autistic brother Mark  and for our other siblings, for decades. We never hung around too long after lunch and the obligatory candy run (Mark had to load up on chocolate at CVS pharmacy before heading back home). The visits were chaotic, at least in that meaningful conversation was difficult - it was loud, with scattered attention. But it was often the only time we got together each year. Tom was a big part of those Markfests, acting more like Mark's "big brother".  Another thing! Tom was our "backup conservator" for Mark. When Sue, Tom and I filled out the paperwork and were registered as Mark's conservators (a long legal process), I took the reigns as main conservator, since I was the eldest. I did that for 7 years, then asked for Sue's help. Sue and I now share equal responsibility, but if anything happened to us, Tom was our planned backup. 

The last time I saw Tom: Markfest, January 27, 2026

My mind often wanders to our childhood. Tom was the first of us to be born when we lived in Pacifica. Like me, Tom was born in San Francisco, as were Arlo and Mark; Laurie was born in Lynwood, CA. Tom wound ultimately become the middle child - four older, four younger. 

I love all of my siblings, but Tom and I had an often contentious relationship, based upon his bullying of the youngest 4 kids, all of whom I was responsible for taking care of (along with my sister Laurie). But Tom and I got along very well at other times, and our love was never questioned. 

Random memories: 

Tom was the first baby I took care of. Mom had to work full-time, and our parents needed Laurie and me to step up. Tom got stuck - with safety pins - often. It was a challenge to fold those diapers and adjust the pins on an active baby. The diapers had to be tight. If they fell off, there were a few times my father pushed my nose into the baby shit on the floor. I'm sure those babies/toddlers lost some circulation in the process. We also had to make the formula for the bottles. So, yeah, Tom was the first. 

Me holding Tom, when he was 13 days old

Tom's diaper was on tight, reinforced by his holster

In May of 1964 when Tom was 8, our brother Arlo, Tom, and myself appeared on the "Mayor Art" show", which I wrote about in a blog entitled "Kiddie Shows."

I related about a thrown chicken incident in my blog: "Begetting Violence"

I did a blog about Tom's love of aircraft, from childhood on, in my blog: "For the Love of Flight." 

One year, Laurie, Arlo, Tom & I got 3-speed Huffy bicycles for Christmas. They were all pretty much the same model - I think Laurie and I had the girl's version of the bikes, but otherwise all the same type and size.  I came home from school one day to find that my bike had a flat front tire. I was confused and upset about that, wondering what could have caused it. One of the "little kids" later told me that Tom had switched his flat tire with mine. Of course he did.

Between 1968-1971 Tom and Arlo used to hang out in my "hippie hangout" room. I have some old home movies of that time, and of Tom and the kids playing in the yard. 

In 1972, when Tom was 15, he and our mom drove up to rescue Perry and me when our car broke down in the snow in Lodi. Tom opened the hood of the car, wanting to dismantle it right there. Mom nixed that idea, and just drove us home. Tom knew all of the car parts, and was on his way to becoming a mechanic. 

Once we became adults, we got along much better. Tom even helped fix a few of our run-down cars. 

I remember when Tom introduced us to Georgia, who seemed very YOUNG. It was the first and only time I ever saw my brother in love. We lived on Hess road in RWC at the time. 

We saw Tom often when I was married to Perry, especially when we lived in Redwood City, and Tom and Georgia lived in La Honda. They would also visit us when we lived in Milpitas, mostly because our mom lived there.  At the time, our grandparents, mom, George, Sue and family also lived there.  They visited with babies Talina and Linda a lot, and later their kids hung out with Sue's kids. 

Our daughter Kelly stayed with Tom and Georgia several times during summertime.  We attended a party for Linda's second birthday and other visits- at least once to Memorial Park. 

I remembered that Tom was the one who told my first husband Perry and me about the film: "Harold & Maude", that we just had to see it. Once we did, we agreed that it was our favorite film of all time. It still is mine.

Tom's nickname for Perry was "Erpy."

Tom and I corresponded when we were both in our 30's, when he discovered that I had been telling the truth about our father, something he and my brothers didn't want to acknowledge up to that point. It was a sore spot for me, and I went through a lot to finally be believed. It was most important that my brothers realize the truth...they all had daughters.  Tom stepped up and was the only one that I know of to write to our father and mom. I know that it wasn't easy for him.  I was proud of him, and kept those letters, which mean a lot to me. 

Years later, Tom visited Mike and me a few times, once with Georgia in Half Moon Bay, where we had lunch at the Flying Fish Grill. Other times were a stop-off from the HMB airport, once with his son David.  We also visited Tom & Georgia at our sister Sue's house for Thanksgiving in 2007, and once when we were on one of our road trips in 2012, where we got to hang out with Tom & Georgia at Table Mountain Aviation, Tom's business. There were also numerous memorials, a few weddings, and our Alaskan cruise, where we met up with Tom & Georgia between ports-of-call. Also, Tom, Sue and I were the only ones up around 4 a.m. for coffee in the ship's lounge.

When I turned 60, Tom wished me a happy birthday, then whispered in my ear: "Now you're circling the drain."  Gee, thanks, Bro! 

During one Markfest several years ago, Tom told me that I was his "hero". 

According to Ancestry DNA, Tom and I shared 53% of our DNA. 

I will miss Tom's text messages at 4 A.M., mostly for birthday or discussions about "Markfest".  Each birthday, he would wish me a "Happy Birthday." Exactly one week later round 4 a.m. I would wish him a "Happy Birthday". Tom's wife Georgia's birthday is the day after Tom's, and our brother Mark's is on the 2nd. My daughter Kelly's is on the 25th, and my mom's was on the 9th. That's a lot of December birthdays!

Each time we all got together, we always hugged, and remembered to tell each other "I love you". We all knew that there might be the possibility that it could be the last time we see each other. I think for me that started when when our sister Laurie died in a car accident at 16. Then, our brother Arlo, when he was 48, of cancer. Now, Tom.  I miss them all.  The only way I could reign in my grief this time was to ask myself what Tom would do if the situation were reversed - if I had died first (which I had expected to do). He would have been sad for a short while, but then he would have continued to live his best life....as he should have....and as I would have wanted him to do. 

For the Love of Flight

 My brother Tom died on February 28, 2026. He was flying a friend's plane to the Oroville Airport, where Tom would inspect the aircraft. Two miles from the airport, Tom's radio went silent. Shortly after that, he crashed. No one else was hurt. It is probable that Tom had a medical emergency, and lost consciousness.  His wife Georgia explained: "Details show that he likely went unconscious before the crash. He was communicating with a friend by radio. After he announced he was 2 miles from final, it went silent. His friend didn't hear anything from Tom. The plane went straight down and Impact caused instant death. I am comforted by that thought. It's even possible he suffered a massive stroke or heart attack and was dead before Impact. Tom was an excellent pilot, he practiced emergency landings often. If he was in trouble and conscious, he would have said something to his friend."

For Tom, interest in aircraft and flight began early. 

Tom's gift, second birthday- something that flies!  

Our father hung model airplanes in our garage. The model I remember the most was the Gee Bee. Those models could fly - sort of. They were control-line models made from kits, not radio-controlled models, even though they had internal combustion engines. Dad would take us out to Orange Park or San Bruno Park to fly these planes. We would stand in the middle of a grassy field and hold onto the handle of the plane, spinning around in circles to make the model "fly", while the engine whirred the propeller. Much later, radio-controlled models were used.

Some of Tom's collection, decades later

Spinning around is also what I did with Tom and the youngest 4 siblings. I gave them airplane rides in our back yard, holding onto an arm and a leg, or both arms (NOTE: I have since learned that this is not recommended, as it can pull arms out of sockets).  My siblings would line up for these rides. After a few up-and-down-and-around spins and sound effects that I made - something like: "Yeoomm..blblublu-yeoowm blblublu.." I would toss the "airplane" onto a pile of grass.  Tom was always the first, getting these rides before he became too heavy for me (I joked with him several years ago that he needed to give me one, now). Sometimes I missed the pile of grass, but my sibs didn't seem to mind.

When my father bought the Aeronca L-3, we were all expected to pitch in to maintain it. This included stripping the wings and doing a re-apply of the fabric covering. We spent many weekends at the Half Moon Bay airport, and we were also expected to fly with our father - we had no choice.

The Aeronca L-3 at the Half Moon Bay airport 

After numerous flights (frights?) with my father piloting the Aeronca as well as a memorable ride with one of his pilot friends in a Cessna, I decided that flying was not for me - but Tom loved it- he was hooked! He liked being "up in the air".  In fact, Tom, Ben and Laurie all learned to fly the Aeronca. Laurie even obtained her student pilot's license when she turned 16 and flew solo shortly after that. Tom and Ben eventually got their pilot's licenses.

Tom not only enjoyed piloting aircraft, he enjoyed working on them, ultimately starting his own business, Table Mountain Aviation in Oroville, CA. Tom was that guy whose car bumper strip said: "I'd rather be flying".  He did confess to me that he was not comfortable flying in commercial airlines. Maybe he knew too much? Since then, he has traveled to Europe and other trips, so he may have gotten used to it.  But small aircraft were another story. He was at home in the cockpit. Here is a video that Mike shot in 2014 when Tom took him for a ride:

When Mike and I lived next to the HMB airport, Tom would occasionally visit - after all, we were right there. I enjoyed living next to the airport, watching the planes take off and land. 

Tom and his son David at the Half Moon Bay airport, 2014

Tom, me and David, in front of the old 3-Zero Cafe at the HMB airport.

We were even lucky enough to watch Eddie Andreini do his stunts overhead from our house(!), many times, when he practiced for an event. He often tipped his wing at us as we photographed his stunts. Tom admired Eddie Andreini, and was impressed that we knew him.

A photo I took of Eddie Andreini and Mike at our gallery in 2006. 

It's so cliche' to say that someone "...died doing what they loved",  but in Tom's case, that was true. I am convinced that his heart gave out prior to the crash. In essence, Tom left us while he was still in the air.  With the exception of being with his wife and family, that was his happy place. 

Begetting Violence

When you're a child, you don't know any better.   We lived in a violent household, but thought that was normal. My father beat his children, and raped his daughters regularly.  When I was 10 years of age, I was hospitalized to repair the severe damages from one of the rapes.  Various forms of torture were also included.  For now, though, I'm just talking about the violence.
 
When your father beats you on a regular basis, you hate and fear it, but know that it is a part of life. It was also a large part of our continued underlying anxiety, growing up. Being punched, kicked, thrown against walls, having hair pulled, and subjected to spankings defined a painful part of our existence.  There was never a question of IF we would be beaten, but WHEN.  

The majority of the time, we didn't do anything wrong, so we couldn't really "prevent" being punished, or predict when our day would turn sour and terrifying.  The beatings were an excuse for our father to let off steam, so we became his little punching bags. 

Appropriate, I guess, considering that my father was once a Golden Gloves boxer.  We used to watch him box, back in the early-mid 1950s, on our little B&W t.v. set. Later on, we were made to watch the Monday and Friday Night Fights.  His Golden Gloves, meanwhile, retired to the big storage closet in the hallway.

                                           We also learned to box.  

We were made to put on the gloves, and spar, learning to jab with a left-hook, how to get that uppercut in when your opponent was off-guard, the cross punch, etc.  I guess this was to help us learn to protect ourselves - that could be a good thing. But what we really needed protection from was our FATHER.

In any event, we learned violence from the time we entered the world.  When the neighborhood kids would beat up on our siblings, Laurie & I would beat up the bullies.  Arlo later told me that I was doing him "no favors" when I would beat up the kids who beat him up.  It just earned him more derision, that he "...had to have his sisters defend him".  Our brother Tom became a bully and also kicked holes in the walls, learning from dear old dad how to vent his frustration and rage.

I used to get sucked into fights in grade school.  There was one notable fight in the school yard, where my opponent was at least a foot taller than me. As I was flailing away with my punches, he mostly just slapped me, and held me back.  I was too stupid to realize that he probably could have decked me with one punch, but since I was a girl, that might not look good for him.  As it was, a teacher broke up our fight, pretty much telling him that it was wrong to be fighting with a girl, and wasn't he ashamed of himself?  Since I was the one who said: "Call you down!" in a fit of rage, I felt slightly guilty that he was the one who was made to sit in the principle's office, and I was made to look like the victim. 

Rage.  I had a temper, with rage fueled by violence done to myself and my siblings.
 
Hitting and punching were accepted forms of communication in our house.  Since I was the eldest of 9, I was the enforcer when one of the youngsters complained about another sibling (usually Tom) who was beating up on them. I had to then kick the offenders' butt: "Stop hitting Sue! If you do that again, I'll hit YOU!"    This usually worked on a short-term basis each time, until my brothers grew taller and stronger.  Big sister had to resort to other methods of "discipline".  Once, I was so upset with my brother Tom's bullying, that I threw a chicken at him that I was stuffing for dinner. 

Stuffing all over the floor - no harm done, but I had to revise my methods of keeping the "peace". Tom just laughed and ran off.

"Peace" was the operative word beginning at age 14, when I spent a lot of time with my hippie friends.  The rules were changing, we didn't want to live as our parents did, etc.  Living in peace was a goal to achieve, though something not that simple for one who was raised in violence.  But I was willing to learn about PEACE & LOVE! 

I wasn't the only one who had trouble maintaining that philosophy.  During a peace rally in SF in 1967, as we were holding up our "Make Love, Not War" signs, one of the marchers turned to another, and started hitting him with him with his peace sign. They'd had some sort of philosophical disagreement.   True story.  The irony was not lost on the rest of us. I heard one woman cry out: "Let's split this scene, Melissa - bad vibes!!!"  

I had a child when I was young, who, for the most part, was treated well (in my view), but there were a few times when in frustration, I hit her, and even used my fists on one occasion. She was a teen, and arrived home hours late. No excuses, but I had been terrified. I fell back on what I had been taught, and castigated myself later - over and over - for my actions. 

The majority of the time, however, I turned my rage and frustration inward, resulting in panic attacks, phobias, and hypersensitivity. I was a lot of fun to be around!

I guess I shouldn't feel too bad - John Lennon himself was a violent man, before he preached "Love, Not War".  He wrote songs about threatening to kill his girlfriend, if she "looked at another man".  But then, he met Yoko.

 It's tough finding that middle ground, in real life.  Few of us are Gandhi or Mother Teresa.....but we can learn...can't we?
 

Our Yard and My Purple Thumb

 I've never really been good with plants, but I keep trying! I enjoy having something living in my home and yard. When we first moved to Pacifica, our duplex yard was in need of a bit of help. 

After clearing out the weeds and lawn, I planted a few friendly-looking samples that were recommended to me by the hardware store florist. 

These turned out to be a banquet for gophers. Every plant - except for the rosemary - was considered haute cuisine by the local ground critters. 

After I posted a photo of our yard on Facebook, we were advised by our landscaper friend to put down mulch. There are many good reasons to cover the ground with mulch, so I took it from there. I had fun buying new plants and positioning pavers and stones. I painted boards white to use as planter set-ups. Looks nice, huh?

Within a month, all of the plants (except for the rosemary) were demolished by gophers. Those plants were replaced by weeds, which grow very nicely in our yard - I don't have to do anything - the weeds thrive.  In time, the yard, again overgrown with weeds, needed help. The fence also needed painting. It took me a week to clear out the weeds.  After painting and clearing the ground, I put down mulch. Mike helped a great deal by hauling the old dirt away.   It looked pretty good...until.....

Another problem arose: fleas. My legs were covered in fleas! The fleas eventually made it into the house. NOTE: we don't have pets. In my naivete', I thought one had to have pets to have fles. Not true, I found out. So, I cleared out the mulch and dirt - 

and used a combination of remedies to eradicate the fleas: flea spray, cedar wood chips and spray, diatomaceous earth, and for indoors, lots of vacuuming, flea carpet powder flea spray, and flea traps. I also dug up the dirt (again) and hired a company to haul away the bags of dirt I had dug up (shout out to Nico's hauling)!

 

Finally, the fleas were gone, and I re-did the mulch. I only plant what gophers won't eat, now - that includes succulents, rosemary, bee balm and lavender. The rest of the plants are in pots. It still needs a little work. Maybe some more plants....what do you think?

Grief

Grief is just an open wound that truly never heals

But life goes on, and live we must - no matter how one feels.

Remembrance is a foe and friend - our joy is also pain

And hope the stars align someday, for us to meet again.

                                                           Deborah Wong  

Eastern Sierras Road Trip, Take Two...

Last year, we headed out for the Eastern Sierras with a week-long road trip in mind. After visiting Yosemite and Bodie, Mike became very ill. We went home after two days, discovering that Mike had Covid - I got it two days later. So much for our 2013 vacation!

September, 2024: Let's try that again! 

At 5 a.m. on Sunday September 29, we left for our vacation-road trip. First stop was Mojave, a different way of traveling to the Eastern Sierras than we usually take. Traveling that early on a Sunday, traffic on highway 5 was light.  Along the way: trains, air force bases, old ruins of aircraft, heat, endless fields of windmills, power stations, aqueducts, rows and rows of almond groves and other crops, dust, signs about the government withholding water, etc. After 6 hours of travel, we were tired and hungry. We found an America's Best Value Inn and went to reserve a room. Even though check-in was at 1:00, our hotel manager- named Mike - let us have the room at noon. He was a really nice guy. 

After unloading, we walked to the Denny's restaurant down the street, one block. We shared a "BeetleJuicy" burger, which was loaded, and included 3 meat patties. The name is timed for Halloween month, after the film "Beetlejuice." 

Back at the hotel, Mike used the swimming pool, the water of which was cold - even on that 90-degree day.  I slept better there than I have anywhere, in spite of the continual trains, trucks, and other noises. The sound of the air conditioning was like white noise, I guess. 

The next day (September 30), we headed out early to Red Rock Canyon. We soon realized that there weren't too many places we could go in the canyon without a 4WD. We lucked out when a ranger for the park gave us information about one spot we could drive to - that dirt road wasn't too bad - and it was her favorite place in the canyon, called "Red Rooster". We followed her white park vehicle, which she drove like a race car, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake. When we got there, we could see why it was her favorite spot, and I asked if she could pose for me in front of the "Red Rooster". She gladly did and also with us - her name was Ranger Martinez - and she left us to explore and hike the area. 

We only hiked about a mile in on that hot day but at least got to see some of the gorgeous terrain.  Leaving Red Rock Canyon, we made our way up to Lone Pine via Highway 395. Once there, we secured room #14 at the Trails Motel, where we always stay in Lone Pine. 

That room has easy access to the back of the building, where you can get an excellent view of Mount Whitney. As with our previous motel, we were allowed to move into the room right away.  Once settled, we headed out for the Alabama Hills and hiked around there - in the heat! - for about an hour. 

That hike completed, we were off to our room in Lone Pine, sleeping very well yet again.

The next morning (October 1), we walked to the McDonald's down the street for breakfast (I had my favorite, Steak-Egg-Cheese bagel).  After our meal, we walked to the Lone Pine Museum of Western Film History. We had been there in 2020, and there were a lot of changes that were fun to check out. Spent about an hour there.

 Next, we made our way to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine forest - a long, windy road with drop-offs, which always terrify me - and started out hiking the Methuselah Trail, a 4-mile loop. We only hiked about half a mile on that trail before deciding that we didn't want to do the whole thing (the path - like most that we hike - was narrow, studded with rocks). At almost 11,000 feet, we coastsiders were feeling not only the heat, but the altitude. We were drinking water by the gallon!  We still wanted to enjoy the bristlecone experience, and so we decided to take the 1-mile course.  So much was uphill at first, a bit of a slog, but the trees were way more interesting on this trail (maybe we didn't go far enough on the Methuselah trail). 

We had done that trail before - I got my best shot in 2016, of one of the trees. But each time is different, and we enjoyed the scenery while snapping off a few photos. The day was half done by that time, so we traveled up the highway to June Lake, where we secured the same suite (#306) that we had last year at the Boulder Lodge - we also stayed there in that suite in 2016 and 2010. Yet again, we were allowed to move into the room before check-in time. Later that night, I experimented with my star photography from our balcony, capturing a slightly fuzzy Big Dipper. 

The next morning (October 2) Took more shots of the stars from our balcony at 5 a.m., noting that the Big Dipper had traveled from the left of the sky to the right, and flipped over (astronomy is not my strong suit.) 

We took a walk on the shore, encountering deer and ducks along that marshy beach. Bought duck food at a Boat-Bait shop and fed the ducks. 

Saw deer, too - a mama and her babies. They seemed to be used to humans - the fawn walked to Mike when Mike talked to it, then looked over at its mom, who was grazing on a tree...the mother made a sound towards the fawn, and the fawn moved away. 

I had wanted to visit Mammoth Lakes, so we made that part of our plan. The town of Mammoth is pretty busy and has possibly the largest shopping center on that part of the eastern sierras. Our drive along the five lakes was possibly the most scenic part of our trip.  After stopping off at the Visitor Center, we got a map and checked out each of the main five lakes (We got out at Twin Lakes first, then along the loop, Mary Lake, George, Horseshoe, and Mamie). 

On Thursday, October 3, we headed out to explore the Mammoth Consolidated Gold Mine ruins (not without getting lost on the way there).  The mine began in 1877 during the Gold Rush and ended in 1881 when the mine was sold off. The Mammoth Consolidated company took over in 1929, operating until 1933. Since then, prospectors mine the area to this day. The remnants of the mine include cabins and other structures which are preserved in the same way as the town of Bodie, in "arrested decay". 

We hiked for a couple of hours there - the mostly shaded trails lead to two narrow, steep rocky trails, each of which leads up to a mine shaft. Mike was hesitant to try these trails - the altitude had us breathing a bit harder than usual when hiking - Mike: "Are you sure you want to go there?" Yep. I wanted to check them out, so we did. Well worth the hike! 

As we made our way back out to the Mammoth scenic loop, I saw a sign which said: "Inyo Crater". Mike turned around, and we went to check it out. Two miles of dirt road led us to a 1/2 mile trail to the crater.  Though not a long hike in, it was uphill most of the way at high altitude, so we took our time. I kept joking with Mike that we were going through all of this just to check out "...a big hole in the ground!", imitating the SNL bit in the same tone as "Matt Foley": "Living in a van down by the river!"  Maybe you had to be there. In truth...that's what it was. 

We snapped a few shots then went back to June Lake, to take the June Lake loop drive. Along the loop is at Silver Lake Resort Cafe we shared a Sierra Nevada Melt with fries - I also had a chocolate shake. DELICIOUS! Hit the spot.

Made the rest of the June Lake loop and settled into our room at the Boulder Lodge. Made the decision to stay in June Lake for two more days before returning home, since our previous plan to wind up at Camp Richardson in Tahoe was foiled (Oktoberfest weekend in Tahoe). 

Friday, October 4:  A day of rest...mostly. We went for another walk along the beach, fed the ducks again, spoke with some fishermen (and fisherwomen) and then walked along the main street. Checked out the Willingham Clay Studio along the way, and Ken (the artist) shared about some of his projects and techniques. Many lovely and also humorous pieces in the gallery.  Walked back to our suite, and rested up for our trip home.

 

Saturday, October 5: We started out early for the drive home. Took the Sonora Pass route, since Yosemite was booked (they have a new system where you have to reserve to just go through the park). Highway 108- the Sonora Pass route - was actually the better choice - less traffic, and a scenic drive, including some fall colors on the Eastern side of the road. 

 

Took all day, with a few stops at look-outs, and a last stop in Columbia State park, which we visited back in 2012. Hot weather slowed us down a bit - 95 degrees - but enjoyed checking out the displays, shops, historic buildings and scenes. 

 

 Arrived home around 3 p.m. and spent the rest of the day unloading and organizing, etc. So happy that we finally got to have our annual time away for a while! In total, we covered 1,130 miles on our trip.