Words cannot possibly do justice to describing Dad…but here are a few that come to mind:

 

Patient

Quiet

Kind

Honest

Dedicated

Generous

Strong

Capable

Easy-going

Unpretentious

Loving

Caring

Authentic

 

Dad never complained

Dad never gossiped

He rarely displayed anger or lost his cool with anyone

His pleasures were simple

 

Dad lived his life peacefully…and that’s exactly the way he left this life

 

Dad modeled the ideal of what being a man, a husband, and a father truly is.

 

Dad, a simple a human being, was also an extraordinary human being.

 

Let me share a little about Joel Simon:

 

Dad was born in NY in 1928.  

He had a depth of love and respect for both of his parents throughout his life.

 

When I questioned Dad about his childhood, one memory that surfaced was that of a summer spent working on a farm far away from home when he was fourteen years old.  He earned a pittance (was it a dollar a week, Dad? Forgive me… I can’t remember).  But I do remember that Dad said he brought almost his entire earnings home to help out his parents during those hard post-depression times.

 

Dad always (and I do not use that word casually) put others first.

His ego was small. And his heart was enormous. 

He cared deeply for, and took care of, those he loved.

Particularly the love of his life…Mom.

 

Dad joined the army in his late teens, and was honorably discharged in 1947.

 

He was, and continued to be, throughout his life, extremely proud to have served his country.

 

While in the service, he was stationed in the Aleutian Islands, and it was here where dad first learned to hunt …and for decades this became one of his greatest pleasures in life.  Being one with nature in the wilderness. 

 

During the time dad was in the service, his family moved from NY to Los Angeles. 

 

One evening in 1947, not long after being discharged, dad and his army buddy, Fink stopped in a drug store/soda fountain, and it was there that dad first met mom.

 

As the story goes, Dad and Fink, saw two dames all dolled up in stockings, heels, dresses, and hats.  They decided that these two broads (mom and her sister Shirley), dressed as they were, had to be from NY.

 

Dad was nineteen at that time and mom was seventeen.

Dad knew right away that this woman, Evelyn, was the love of his life.

 

The one thing Dad wanted most his entire life starting with the moment he met Mom…and right up to the end…was for Mom to be happy.  There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. 

 

Mom; however, was a little bit hard-to-get when they first started dating.

 

She went back to her roots in NY to choose between Dad and an old boyfriend she had left behind.

 

Dad wrote her two letters every day (there were two mail deliveries a day back then).

 

And he played pinochle nightly with mom’s dad as he patiently waited for mom to make a decision.

 

Mom, how wise you were to choose dad.

 

They were married in august 1948.

 

He affectionately called her “Babe” – When I was little, I used to think my mom’s name was “Babe”.

 

Dad was 20 and Mom was 18 when they married.

 

Both my brother and I were born by the time they were 22 and 24 years old.

 

Their early years were challenged with financial hardship from having nothing but a mattress to sleep on to scraping money together for food and rent while they found work wherever they could.

 

But dad was a provider….and he worked hard at whatever he did. 

This is a value he passed on to bob and to me.

 

Thank you Dad.

 

We lived in City Terrace when Bob and I were little (about three and four years old), One story from that time in our lives was about how dad was quick-thinking and saved the day for me and Bob….saved our lives is more accurate:

 

I was sitting on the curb in front of our rented house, and Dad was outside too.  Bob had managed to climb into Dad’s pick up truck and released the emergency break.  As the truck began to roll towards me, Dad grabbed me to move me out of the way to prevent the truck from running over my legs …and then chased the truck with Bob in it as it was heading downhill (we lived on a hill overlooking a freeway embankment).

 

He got to the truck in time and after safely depositing Bob and I back in the house sat down shaking, turning ashen white and put his head between his legs to prevent himself from passing out.

 

Thanks dad…for always being there for us.

 

By this time, Dad had started what became a lifelong career as a builder.  He learned and became skillful at pouring foundations, framing homes, and was capable of building a house from the ground up.  Which is exactly what he did for our family.

 

Dad moved us from City Terrace to Desert Hot Springs in 1956.

And here, still a kid himself in his 20s, Dad built the Melody Kitchen Apartments…and the adjacent home we would live in for the next eight years (my friend Karen texted me the other day saying, “your dad really loved you…who else names a building after their daughter?”)

 

Here are some memories from our years in Desert Hot Springs:

 

Dad welcoming our grandfather (mom’s dad who he called “Pop”) to live in our home… he loved him and took care of him as if my grandfather were his own dad.

 

Dad taking us on countless trips to the mountains in our camper

 

Dad making homemade french fries, his famous tacos (the recipe that has lived on all these decades), the most outrageous potato kugel on the planet, latkes grated by hand, and frying up fresh trout that he caught

 

Dad patiently pulling cactus thorns, with tweezers, out of mine and Bob’s tushies

 

Dad teaching me and Bob how to swim, ride a bike, catch fish, and bowl (mom and dad were on bowling leagues together for decades)

 

Dad singing completely off-key

 

Dad whistling (on-key)

 

Dad teaching Bob and I to fold socks with military precision

 

Dad falling asleep and snoring at the dinner table at the end of the meal (he was up most of his working life at 4:00 am.)

 

Here’s a story Dad’s brother, my Uncle Norm, shared with us last week that tells you a little bit about the kind of man Dad was: While Dad was doing some framing work when we lived in the desert, one of the guys on the jobsite was down and out and couldn’t make his rent check.  It was payday (I believe they were paid in cash), and dad handed his pay over to this man.  Dad would literally give someone the shirt off his back. 

 

The truth is, “things” never mattered much to dad.

People mattered much more.

 

And the person who always mattered most to Dad, of course, was Mom.

 

Dad moved us back to LA in 1964

 

At a time when many construction businesses went under in the 60s, Dad was once again in a position of difficulty in providing for his family. 

 

But Dad stayed strong.

 

With help from my Uncle Harold, my parents were able to purchase a home in Monterey Park, and here Dad started a construction business called Corner Construction.  He did this from the ground up beginning with distributing flyers—the first job he sold was a window installation that he did in the pouring rain somewhere in the Valley.

 

This business slowly grew from referrals and Dad experienced a measure of success, but financial success really never mattered all that much to our dad.

 

Dad could have lived in a cabin in the woods his whole life and would have been content.  Success for him seemed to be all about living a decent life.

 

And as long as that life was shared with Mom.

 

During the Monterey Park years, when Bob and I were teenagers, Dad was still up at 4:00 in the morning working hard.  He was in his early 40s at this time.

 

Both Bob and I began working in the office (which was our garage) with Dad.  I did some bookkeeping and Dad began teaching Bob what he knew best: the construction trade.  It was during this time that Dad endured the loss of his beloved mom, our Grandma Anna. 

 

Once again, Dad and Mom demonstrated their true colors and immediately brought Grandpa into our home to live where he shared a tiny bedroom with Bob while Dad built a space attached to our garage for Grandpa to live in. 

 

Bob and Dad had a most remarkable and unique relationship.  During the time Dad was in the hospital last winter and spring, Bob shared with me that our Dad was much more than a father to him.  He was his best friend his entire life.  They worked together in partnership for decades, they hunted and fished together for decades, and they always had each other’s backs.

 

Mom and Dad moved to Palm Desert during their golden years…and these seemed to be some of their happiest and most content years.  He and Mom were able to travel, join clubs in Sun City, go to shows, and form many deep and lasting friendships.  Here Dad took up tennis and fell head over heals with the game, spent hours soaking in his hot tub, played cards, and enjoyed a weekly huevos rancheros breakfast with friends at his favorite Mexican restaurant.

 

Nothing made Dad happier than being with family. Mom, Bob, and I felt his love always, as did our spouses.

 

He loved mom’s entire family (her parents, her siblings, their spouses, and their children) as his own family. 

 

And oh how he adored his grandchildren:

Matt, Anna, Danny, Greg, and Sam….you were each the light of his life.  You brought him more joy than you can possibly imagine--especially when we were all together playing his favorite card game, “May-I”.  You five are his legacy.

 

And thankfully, Dad even had the opportunity to hold his great-grandchildren Emma and Gavin in his arms near the end of his life. 

 

This final year of Dad’s life, he once again demonstrated his love for Mom.  After five months in three hospitals and two nursing homes, Dad garnered the strength and determination to get well enough to come home to mom at The Regency where we moved them once Dad had become ill.  And although he came home with physical challenges, he spent his final five months once again being the:

Patient

Quiet

Kind

Honest

Dedicated

Generous

Strong

Capable

Easy-going

Unpretentious

Loving

Caring

And Authentic

Man that he always was.

 

Dad made me, Bob, and Mom feel loved, protected, and safe-- always.

 

He was strong and gentle at the same time

 

Everyone who knew Dad loved him: his co-workers and employees, his friends, his caregiver, and his family.

 

No love; however, can quite compare to what Dad and Mom felt for each other throughout their 67 years of marriage. Nothing comes close to that.

 

Dad, we will never forget you…you are truly unforgettable.

 

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