My mom was born in Trichinopli, India on September 23, 1911. Her parents were Joseph & Louisa (Hogg) Cahill. She had numerous brothers and a half sister that she had not gotten to see since 1946. While she was in India, she completed her formal education by the time she was 16. From that she went on to nurses training only to not be allowed to practice her chosen profession when she came to the states. When she arrived in the states, they did not recognize her nurses training and told her that she would have to take it all over again. Unfortunately as was the case back in the late 40's, there was not enough money for her to accomplish this. So she did the next best thing and became a cook. I remember her cooking was the best I had ever tasted and I really miss that(not to memtion all the recipes that didn't get passed on). While she was in India she married her first husband and had 7 children. Only 4 of the children lived: Gladwyn, Geraldine, Eric, and Shirley. Following her divorce she met my dad: Leonard L. Crites, had my sister Charlene, came to the USA and had Jean and myself. She lost 2 other children in this marriage also. She received her American Citizenship in 1954.
LEONARD LEROY CRITES
Born: February 14, 1917
Died: July 17, 1987
Daddy was born in Hale, Colorado on February 14, 1918, to Lester and Olive Crites. He traveled by covered wagon to Oklahoma to live. The small town he was born in is now located at the bottom of Bonnie Dam in Colorado. He met & married my mom Eileen when he was station in Inda. After my sister was born my dad was sent back to the USA. My mother followed about 2 years later and joined Leonard in Southard, Oklahoma. My dad worked for a quarry in Southard and was a heavy equipment operator. He would take us every now and then down to his work and I remember the thrill of getting to see all the huge equipment he worked with. He also raised some cows and pigs on a small piece of property. In 1956 the pursuit of work brought him back to Colorado. This time we moved to Cotopaxi, then to Nathrup, then to Poncha Springs and finally to Canon City. You know the thing I remember most about my Dad was that he had a beautiful voice and boy could he play the harmonica. He would sit down in the rocking chair and just start playing the harmonica and I always tried to figure out how he made that little thing make all the sounds that came out of it. I will never forget the day he tried to teach me how to drive. I got so angry at him for telling me not to do this and not to do that, I got out of the truck and ran into the house. The truck in the mean while was left running and rolling away.
TOGETHER AGAIN
I remember that it was pure hell growing up in our home. My parents argued like there was no tomorrow and if you had been there you would of sworn that they were going to kill each other. My dad could be a very cruel person and he was very strict. I actually never thought that he loved us. I am pretty sure he did but, it was hard for him to ever show that love. My mom could hurt me by things she would say and the way she said them. But, I always knew that she loved me. She was very lucky in any kind of contest or games she entered or played. Her favorite game was Bingo, and it seems like she always was winning. With all the fighting that my parents did, God forbid anyone say anything about the other. They were always defending each other from anyone who would cut down the other. Even though it became impossible for them to live together, they would contact each other almost every day. My parents both died of medical problems. My mother of Alzheimer's and my father of a massive heart attack brought on by not taking he bloodpressure meds he was perscribed. When my father died, he was alone and no one even knew about it. We were all coming down the weekend after it happened, my mom had been trying to call him all night. The police went to invesigate and found him dead. If he had taken better care of himself and taken his bloodpressure meds it probably wouldn't have happened as it did. My parents are buried in Fort Logan National Cemetary in Denver, Colorado. My sister Jean is buried in the same grave also. They are once more together...all three of them at rest and in pain no more. AND NOW MY MOM KNOWS WHO I AM ONCE AGAIN.
