These were my dad’s favorite songs.
when I was 16
Everything I know I learned from my dad. Well, almost everything.
When I think of my dad, I think of freedom. I have never met a person alive that desperatly wanted freedom as much as he did. In every action, and in every conversation-he talked about ‘being free’. His final resting place was under the big pines in Elkton, Oregon. Population 500?. Far cry from the hustle and bustle of downtown LA, and Burbank, Ca where he was raised. Robert Ellis Miller, and Ellen Marie Funder was his parents. And he had one sister, Sharon Levi Miller.
He had an amazing collection of show cars, and bought and sold cars for over 40 years as a hobby. He liked to race them, and he like to show them. He reminded me of Dennis Quaid in Great Balls of Fire when he was young. That same fire and spirit-and he was my hero. I did go thru my teen years with arguing and fighting for my independence, but he always admired my spirit and my fight. I know where that came from.
He was my first admirer, and he was the first man in my life. For dayghters that are blessed to have fathers in their life, it is the most miraculous relationship between a father and his dayghter. I was his only child, so he called me, “The only pumpkin we have.” My parents were married for over 35 years. It was not easy, but my saint of mom preserved. My dad was a rebel. From the time he was nicknamed, “Dennis the Menice”, and sent away to boarding school, until his escape from the Navy.
He did not like to conform. His family around him were somewhat famous. His father, Robert and inventor of many useful products today married to Hedda Hoppers neice; and his step brothers a famous iron artist and a cheif of police. He wanted nothing to do with that. He was a minamalist, and chose this lifestyle due to the over indulgent extravegances he felt that his family indulged in. He listen to Crosby Stills and Nash, Paul Simon, The Doors, and The Steve Miller Band.
He did not want to live the American dream, he wanted to live in the outskirts of it. He joined a controversial church (some call a cult) called, The Local Church in the early 70’s and joined them in marches in downtown San Fransisco and Los Angeles in long white robes singing hymns and chanting praises. He smoked marajuana for 30 years, and we believe lead to him having a grap fruit sized tumor in his throat in the 90’s blocking his airway. He developed Lymphomic Cancer. He almost died, but through prayers and a miracle-he pulled through.
He lived another 8 years and told everyone he did not want to fight the cancer even though it will come back. Towards hislater years, the tumors came back and crawled under his skin everywhere, and I am sure in his brain too. He has small lumps all over him, but he refused to see a doctor. He wanted to die without support. After driving a tour bus for 30 years with a perfect driving record with Fun Bus Tours, and Inland Empire Tours-he retired to a small camp site with parked trailers under the tall pines in Oregon. My mom followed him there, but in his worsened condition she believes he was a danger to himself and to her. Although he was very sweet to strangers and friends. His family he believed did not love him, he felt that he was unlovable. I never understoof this growing up because how obvious it was to me how much everyone loved him so much.
But, I saw, ultimately what it was, was that he loved so tremendously hard. The experience of being alive here on Earth for him proved to be a challenge. He always felt he did not belong and spoke of the ‘after life, and what is behind the curtain, what is real, this is all an illusion’ for many, many years.
We spent hours, months and years talking at great lengths. Deep conversations that lasted many hours at a time from as far back as I can remember. He raised me without a telivision he said so I can develop my brain and enjoy my imagination. I am glad he did. His favorite past time was movies, and there was not a single movie that he did not see. His favorite actors were black actors, although he professed to be racistly inclined do to his “treatment in bootcamp”. Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor, and Bill Cosby were some of his favorites. Due to our love of the cinema, I later became an actress and filmmaker.
I used to call him a ‘shock jock’ due to his brash humor. It was intended to get a rise out of you, and he did not make an effort to make friends. If they survived around him, it is because they found some attribut in him to relate to. He would do strange things, like give the neighbor boys two tickets to the ball game-but they were ticket stubs to their dissapointment. He laughed, but initially he felt they would like the keepsake, and did not understand their upset.
I believe he was undiagnoised having Asperger Syndrom and OCD. He had all of the characteristics, including a very high IQ. He was not cultivated and supported as a child, so it was a spiral of dissapointment, frustration and ambivolence to people, things, and this Earth.
He had suffered a massive heart attack and died four hours later on Oct 19th, 2001. He was looking though old photographs of us in the shed. He hadn’t seen me, or heard from me in five months (the longest I ever went) because I was upset at him for saying he did not love my children, and he does not know why. My mom moved in with me for a few months when she finally left him. I believe he died of heart break. At his funeral there were only five people. I think I cried for two strait weeks non stop. He was 54 years old. He did not get to see the birth of my two last children, and the marriage to man who is dark skinned-but resembles my dad’s spirit. They would have loved eachother.
I have to share this with the world, so that I can keep his memory alive in cyber space-and I know the second he left this Earth, he wa shappy. We made a pact, whoever died first would contact the other to share what it was like. He has not left my side. He is still with me although I have let him go. I am closer to him then I have ever been and he is the most amazing, beautiful, glorious spirit I could ever imagine.
It was a priveledge to be his daughter and I will make sure his name carries on. Thank you for sharing this with me.
My dad Steven Miller will live on. 