Family of Origin

The rest of my family is at Willamette National Cemetery on top of Mt. Scott near Portland, Oregon. It's the perfect resting spot, with views of Portland, Kelly Butte, Rocky Butte, Mt. Tabor, Mt. Hood, and Mt. Saint Helens.

Back in the day somebody in Portland decided to use acres of prime real estate for cemetery plots. Of course it wasn't prime real estate at the time. It was out in the boondocks on top of a steep hill, and in 1906 it was a lot of work to get your horse and buggy all the way up there.

The steep hill is technically a volcanic butte. It hosts two cemeteries: Willamette National and Lincoln Memorial. I have family in both locations. I didn't care for either cemetery as a child, because it reminded me of dead people and funerals. These days I visit whenever I'm in town. 

Bill, Shirley, David Carver. Willamette National Cemetery. Portland, Oregon

Uncle Ivan

My father was the youngest son of a youngest son, and he didn't get married until he was almost 48. That's how I ended up here in 2016, still more-or-less middle-aged, with a great grandfather who was born in 1810.

Dad was a good-looking fellow, and by all accounts he had a number of lady admirers. When I asked why he waited so long to marry, he told me that he was just particular. He wanted a pretty girl who wasn't ignorant, and while he met many pretty girls in college, they were all much younger. He started college late and then took time out for World War II, so the age difference would have been significant.

Bill Carver, back left. Ivan Whitehouse back right. WWII. Pacific theater.

In the war Dad served with a man named Ivan Whitehouse. That's Dad on the left with the jaunty hat. Ivan is the youngster in the back on the right. Dad and Ivan became very good friends. They were both members of the same religious denomination, Seventh-day Adventist, and shared the conviction that they would not take a life if at all possible. They served as medics and did not carry guns. This was not uncommon for members of this denomination at that time, although it wasn't a religious requirement.

After the war Dad finished college in Lincoln, Nebraska and taught school for a few years in the mid-west. At some point he decided teaching was not for him. Ivan was in Portland, and they had been corresponding over the years. Dad went out for a visit and stayed. Ivan worked at the Portland Sanitarium and Hospital ("The San"). Dad applied for a job there as well.

Middle-Aged Stalker-Ladies

As Dad got older, the pool of eligible husbands got smaller, and some of the interested single ladies were more assertive in making their interests known. OK, truth, at least one of these women was a stalker. Letters. Phone calls. Notes on his door. Showing up at his church and accidentally sitting in the same pew. If smart phones had been invented back then, this dear lady's number would have been blocked. Bless her heart.

A man in uniform. Who can resist?

Dad was eating lunch with Ivan one day at The San, and he explained his predicament. "This women left another note on my door. What's a fellow to do?"

Ivan said, "I've got two single, pretty sisters-in-law. Which one do you want to meet?"

I know this is what he said, because in the last few years of his life, Uncle Ivan had a smart phone, and he knew how to use it. He liked to call and tell me this story. If I wasn't available to take his call, he would leave the story in a message. Uncle Ivan's wife and my mother were sisters. They are all up on Mt. Scott now, and I really miss Ivan's phone calls.

Mom grew up in Portland and went to college in Walla Walla, Washington. She was ten years younger than Dad, but by the time they were 36 and 46 the age difference was no longer unsuitable.

According to a reliable source, she was engaged once, but it didn’t work out. She never mentioned this to me, but I do have an odd letter to Mom from an unknown person where the topic appears to be mentioned, carefully, in code. This was done on purpose, no doubt, in case a future snoopy daughter ever went through Mom's things.

Shirley Olson, a pretty lady, and not at all ignorant.

The version of the story I heard was this: She was engaged to a pre-med student, or was it a ministry major? Anyway, she went home with him to visit his parents one weekend, and when they got back, the wedding was off, but she didn’t ever say why. Hm. Mum’s the word.

When Ivan decided to play matchmaker, Mom was teaching elementary school in Condon, Oregon, so I guess she and Dad had a long distance courtship. Like Dad, it took Mom a while to get through college. She went through a two year program, then taught in a rural school where several grades were all in one room. She saved her teaching money, then returned to college to finish her bachelors degree.

When your parents are teachers, your English gets corrected on a regular basis, for all the good it did. Dad once corrected one of my letters home from college, in red pen, with circles and notes. Then he mailed it back. It was meant as a joke, I think, probably.

The Wedding

Bill and Shirley got married on Ivan's birthday, June, 2 1958, at Mt. Tabor Seventh-day Adventist Church. Ivan was the best man. Here they are. Ivan is fixing Dad's bow tie.

Ivan Whitehouse. Bill Carver. Bill's wedding 06/02/1958.

I shouldn't make fun of my family, but if I don't, somebody else will. What do you think of my step-grandmother's outfit? This cracks me up. It's not her fault. She was a slave to fashion. (My kids do the same thing to me when they see pictures from the 1980's. Can't imagine why.)



Elmer and Lorena Olson. Shirley and Bill Carver. 06/02/1958.

The Family

Bill and Shirley lived in the Portland area from 1957 to 1979. I was born in 1959. My brother was adopted in 1966. Here we are in 1969. I guess bow ties were still in style, and what was going on up there in my bangs?

Bill, Shirley, Nancy, David Carver. 1969.

David William Carver was wild and sweet and funny and cute. He was killed in an accident in 1971 at the age of five. He had just gotten his first pair of bell bottom pants, and we were coming off of a rollicking summer where we spent plenty of time running through the sprinkler in the lawn out back of the house. I was teaching him how to hit a softball. He had to choke up on the bat, but we were making progress. It was a privilege to have him as a brother, and I'm grateful for those five fun-filled years.

Losing him was very hard on my parents. I look back on the earlier generations and note how often they lost children. Dad says his mother was inconsolable after her son Ralph died, and then later two more of her children died of influenza on the same day. My mother's parents lost their first baby after just a few days and little John Thomas when he was just a toddler.  My heart goes out to all the parents, but I also admire their fortitude. They kept on. They took care of the rest of the kids. They survived.

Later On

In 1978 I decided to go to college in Tennessee. It was a long way from Portland, and I wanted to see another part of the country, so it sounded perfect. I would have moved back home after a couple of years, most likely, but the next year Mom and Dad decided to sell the house and move to Tennessee as well.

I think they needed the fresh start, to move away from the memories. They lived there for a number of years and had a great time exploring all the states on that side of the country. They drove to Florida, Alabama, Louisiana, Washington DC. They had more energy than I'd seen in a long time, more interest in life. I think these were good years for both of them.

Bull and Shirley Carver, 1981, Collegedale, TN

In 1984 they stopped to visit me in Atlanta, taking some time to play with their new grandson, who was three months old. They were headed to the mid-west to visit family and friends. In Topeka, Kansas on a dark rainy evening they got lost, and Dad pulled out in front of oncoming traffic. The police report says visibility was very poor, if that's any consolation. It wasn't much consolation to Dad.

We lost Mom that day, Friday, October 5, 1984. It was instant, and she felt no pain, nor do we think she had time to know anything was wrong, so we did find consolation in that. Dad was in intensive care in Topeka for a few days. Dad's brother Bob and wife Mildred drove down to stay with him, along with their daughter Betty. They were a great comfort.

Dad was resilient. He had a tough childhood by all accounts, yet when he told stories about his childhood, he always managed to find positive stories to tell. His nieces and nephews tell me that he was a cheerful young man. Several describe him as their favorite uncle. And after Mom died, he missed her very much, but he didn't wither away.

He stayed in touch with his church family, spent time with his grandchildren, and corresponded with relatives. He went to the local elementary school and told the children stories.

And, yes, once again several single ladies were very interested. But he shook his head and said, "A fellow will probably be in diapers pretty soon. One shouldn't marry under those circumstances."

He passed away in 1998 at the age of 88. Here he is with my kids in 1993. They adored their Grandpa, and he was pretty fond of them.

Bill Carver with grandchildren, 1993, Collegedale, TN

Keywords: IvanWhitehouse OrlandCarverJr ShirleyOlson