September 1, 1985

September 1 marks the 26th anniversary of my mother's death. I say to myself that it can't have been so long, and yet, I know that it's true.  Yes, I pray for her soul, as I do for all the departed. It's the Catholic way.

My mother was a unique little person. At 16 she quit school to go on the stage professionally. She was very pretty and a talented ballerina. She sang well and had major roles in musical comedy productions in Los Angels, California. Her scrapbooks are filled with predictions of a great future. She was even a Valencia Orange Show Queen in Anaheim in 1929.

But - she met my father, a charming, handsome musician with his own band. In later years he had a children's TV show in San Diego (after he joined AA, became the soul of sobriety and found Christ); but at that time he had the stereotypical musician's vices. He drank too much, smoked pot and chased women.

Their marriage lasted about a year. In the meantime my mother had become a producer - of me. She kept on for awhile with acting, including some radio work.  She tried the darnedest things. She even modeled once for a racy Varga Girl calendar to pay for a medical bill for me. She wrote a Hollywood column for the L.A. Herald-Examiner. She worked as an undercover operative for Sheriff Biscailuz in L.A. She ran a classy dress shop in Hollywood for awhile with an old vaudeville chum. It was called "The Pentouse," and literally was on top of the Bank of America Building, with a wishing well out on the roof.

Her first foray offshore was to Honolulu, touring with a theater troupe. She got the travel itch and wound up as secretary for a girls' softball team that toured the Orient in the 1930s. That's how she first came to Manila, P.I.  Having met the man who was to be my stepfather, she returned there in 1938. She went to work for General Carlos Romulo on the D-M-H-M newspapers, both as a society reporter and in advertising. She also performed in plays on the radio station in Manila. She did the voice of Pinocchio - the Disney version - and there is a letter extant from Walt Disney congratulating her and in appreciation.

Dad (Poppa Gene) was Chief of the Export Division of the Philippine Sugar Administration, an American, working for the Philippine government under President Quezon. Mother and Gene Thiele were married in June, 1940. They intended to come to the States for Christmas '41, so that I could meet my new father. Obviously there wasn't room for 4000 civilians on General MacArthur's PT boat to Australia, so I didn't meet Dad until they were liberated from Santo Tomas Internment Camp in 1945. You see, with my mother's penchant for many careers and peregrinations, I was permanently kept under the ample protection of my grandparents in Los Angeles.

After the war, Mother never fully recovered her health, but she was spunky. She and Pop helped with the original civil defense plan for Los Angeles. She was the first woman area coordinator. She was active in and a sometime officer in the exPOW organization. She helped in reviewing the code of conduct for POWs after the Gary Powers U2 incident, and joined the California State Military Reserve with Pop in tow. She became the first woman Warrant Officer in the Reserve.

When they came home from their 1100 days in Hell, Mother, at not quite 5'2" weighed 72 pounds. Dad, at 6'3 1/2" weighed 137 pounds. Mother kept diaries and pages and pages of recipes. All the starving internees could think about was food. They traded and wrote down recipes from all over the world. The population of Santo Tomas Internment Camp was all civilian, consisting of American, British, Australian, French, Russian, Dutch, Czechoslovakian, - you name it. My mother became a really good ethnic cook after the war, when she could finally get the ingredients.

The story of Santo Tomas I'll save for another day. Suffice it to say, that eventually, the toll was great on my mother. She became almost blind, due to malnourishment. She was profoundly deaf the last few years, due to nerve damage from exploding shells, etc.  She became exceedingly depressed and began to drink to excess. The last couple of years she spent mostly in her room, in her bed, watching a little TV on her night stand. It was so sad to see her that way. Her fire was gone. She lashed out at people for no reason.

There are stories I can tell about her earlier years, and I will. Strangely, I can remember her when I was just a tot, performing cartwheels in my grandparents' driveway, doing pirouettes in her toe shoes in the dining room,  playing the one piece on the piano that she remembered by heart, "Avalanche."  Her life was like an avalanche, I think, high on the mountain top, full and heavy and finally collapsing from forces she couldn't control.

I love you, Mommie.

9/1/11