Dad's 300D
I still drive that car and will always have it. It's got 178,000 miles and is nearly perfect. I love it and sold my Porsche and Audi, they don't compare.
The sketches that paint the picture of Thomas F. Crosby Jr.
When Tom and I were in the Peace Corps in Peru, we had several weeks a
year to take vacation time. During our second year, we had decided to
go to Brazil, which we could actually afford after saving for two
years from our $100/month/volunteer stipend. Best laid plans,
however, could not compete with a huelga general (general strike),
which affected all forms of public transportation. Somehow, we made
it to Lima from Arequipa and set out for an incountry trip instead.
We had heard of and were able to contact Gene Savoy, the intrepid
Andean explorer, and after getting directions and very little else, we
set out by auto, mule and foot to the jungles of Peru. I think we had
hiking shoes, hats, backpacks with sleeping bags, iodine tablets,
oranges and a stash of Sublimes, a Peruvian chocolate bar. We hooked
up with a guide and eventually found our way to the newly "discovered"
ruins of Kuelap (or Quelap). The site was just being excavated and it
was pretty exciting to be in on the early stages of this remarkable
fortress city-state. Your dad loved such adventures and was a very
accommodating travel partner. The only thing I remember being in
conflict about was the new Kodad Super 8 movie camera, a gift from
Grandma and Grandpa Crosby. Each of us wanted to do the filming, but
neither wanted to carry it, at least, not for long. I think it
eventually travelled on the back of the mule.
Kuelap was in the news the other day, and is apparently a major tourist site.

Shown at 37 here, dad was really enthusiastic as a parent. Back in the 70s he drove a cool Datsun 260Z, sliver with black interior, that smelled exotic and powerful to a kid. I remember the clock in particular, a "Jeco", that had this cool mod Japanese style to it. Dad was really physically strong in his 30s/40s, and didn't become really weak until his late 50s.
The day Scott was born. We rushed to the hospital around 2 am, your
dad grabbing my already packed suitcase which included a yellow
layette, as in those days, noone knew what sex the baby would be. We
arrived a South Coast Community hospital in good time, the only
complication being that the Super Bowl was that day and both Tom and
Dr. White wanted me to hurry so they could see the game. You and I
tried to accommodate them, and you were born easily and well before
the kickoff. However, I was the only one to see the game, as your dad
and your grandparents were at the viewing window watching you sleep
for most of the game. I can't remember who played whom, but for a
couple of days, Tom threatened to name you after the winning
quarterback if we couldn't make a decision. As you know, a compromise
was eventually reached, thus the reason for four names.
PREQUEL: The night before, we were in an underground parking lot
after a UCLA basketball game, caught in the exit crowd, with the gas
gauge on empty. You were due on the 10th, and I was pretty nervous
that we'd not make it out of the garage, let alone home. Tom never
was one to worry about how much was left in the tank when it read
empty. I think he took it as a personal challenge to never run out of
gas, in any car, regardless of the risk.

Well, yesterday was Dad's birthday. As Patty remembered to mention
over email, Dad would have pointed out as he always did, "Today is
June 4th, the most important day of the year!"
In honor of Dad, I spent his birthday tinkering around the house on
various projects, sitting on my deck, drinking some wine and even
watching a little golf.
--Brett

Dad's favorite music in his later years was gospel, particularly the
Gaithers. Kind of funny from a relentlessly secular guy, but yeah,
he listened to them every day pretty much. He was never opposed to
the Stanford fight song -- "All Right Now" by Free -- or the Beach
Boys, or his all-time favorite "Trickle Trickle" by the Manhattan
Transfer, but in his last 10 years, it was all about the christian
tunes, meaning be damned.
-SC

Sorry about that Dad.Anyway, when Grandma died (which devastated him, another story for later) Brett and I tried to prevail upon Dad and JP to keep the house, but Dad was adamant that he didn't want to be a landlord. JP was sort of indifferent, preferring that someone from the family live there if we were to keep it. In the end it was sold for a pittance ($350k maybe?) and the new owners proceeded to tear it down and build a massive McMansion on the site, right up to the property line on all sides. A hideous monster. I think that really depressed Dad, as it erased so many great memories and his last real connection to his parents. I know it really made me sad. But I learned a lesson -- never sell real estate you care about. The new owners can never be trusted, so only sell if you want to make a buck, but couldn't care less if it's razed the next day, as it likely will be.
-SC
