I am so glad to see a photo of Ron in his overalls!  Once he became "Farmer Ron" he just lived in those things. 

Thank you so much for posting all of these photos.  I had completely forgotten this trip.  It was when my mom was battling cancer... died the following year.  I am so grateful for these memories you are sharing.

Karen thanks for sharing your stories; wow it does parallel my own!

Yes, I do remember “expedite,” but Ron went through a “Spanish phase” in the mid 70’s, so expedite became “Andale!” The equivalent of move your butt!! (He spoke Spanish a lot like John Wayne did)

The weekends were never a time to sleep in, even when doing fun activities like bowling or Golf. I remember our family bowling breakfasts, which included three games of bowling, but started at 7:30 am with a big breakfast. This gave plenty of time for chores or tasks afterwards. Many times Ron and I got out onto the golf course before it was open. I can remember at the Laurel Pines Golf Course in MD when the starter would come racing out in his golf cart to catch these renegades only to smile and say, “Oh, It’s you, Ron.” Then Ron would pay him our green fees and we continued our game.

As the business ventures began, the play ended, but with Ron work was play J

Whether we were out “playing” doing electrical contracting work or “playing” doing restaurant work it was always a family affair. That is one thing I recognized early on, Ron loved having his family working shoulder to shoulder with him in any of his ventures. Perhaps the most humorous story of a “family work project” was when we were putting up a TV Antenna at the La Habra Heights house we were building. The job was to put up a fifteen foot antenna on the roof using guide wires to hold it in place and a metal saddle to seat the Antenna. I was up on a scaffold near the roof line, probably 30 feet from the ground and my job was to hold the pole with the antenna and guide it into the saddle, while it was kept vertical by four sets of willing workers. Worker number 1 – my sister, Worker number 2 – my mother, Worker number 3 – Ron, and worker number 4 - his 70 year old father. (I know what you are thinking…).  As I gently hoisted the antenna into the air and prepared to seat it while the four workers were keeping the guy wires taught, the antenna decided to fall over as grandpa Pat was not quite able to hold it against the other two workers. The antenna fell onto the 12000 volt power line that supplied the entire development. Everyone had let go of their wires when the antenna fell, but yours truly was holding the metal pole. My entire body was alive with electricity through my fingers and back, but thankfully (divine intervention) one of the guy wires happened to brush against the metal chimney and was instantly welded in place. This diverted most of the current otherwise I would have been electrocuted. Pa would reflect on that incident with gratitude that he hadn’t killed me or my mother would never have forgiven him, he would say. Later, we regrouped and put up a much smaller antenna. (Picture above is the house and the infamous powerline)

Karen, I found the same thing was true for me; Pa was a great teacher/trainer. I did many projects with him and he would always train me on a job and turn me loose. He allowed me to fail without bringing shame or belittling me. This gave me the confidence to try things as you mentioned. Because of this process of teach/train/turn loose I came away with the belief (erroneous as that sometimes was) that I could do anything I put my mind to.

Perhaps this is what influenced me to become a teacher/trainer as well.

I loved reading Colin’s stories.  They brought back a lot of memories for me too since the four of us shared him as our dad and experienced many of the same things with him but at different times. I do also remember the gleam in his eyes and big smile when he got excited about something, also the winding of his wrists when he was upset.  Colin, I love your description of his giant hands. That’s probably why I have the largest “man hands” of any woman living or dead. The word that immediately comes to mind that seemed to be his favorite was “expedite”.  Remember that one? Basically it meant that whatever we were doing should have been done ASAP 15 minutes earlier.  I remember as a kid playing in the neighborhood and hearing him whistle which meant get yourself back home immediately. Often times it was because I had left a light on in a room that he wanted turned off. It must have been the influence of the depression years that made him that way.  And yet he was the most patient teacher/instructor.  Whenever I had questions about math homework he would explain things so well and be so very patient (even when I didn’t always get it the first time).  Maybe this is why I became a teacher myself. There is great satisfaction in helping someone learn, and he was a wonderful influence.

Yes, he was a builder and he loved his tools.  Steve and I spent many a summer day stringing wires through studs on the houses he was building. I remember sitting on top of the roof hammering in shingles.  He always explained what was needed and how to do it.  Unlike most every other teenager, we were awakened early on weekend mornings so we could work on whatever project he had in store for us. To this day, I feel uncomfortable if I don’t have “work” to do.  The work ethic was imbedded in my very being. I’m glad for this since it has helped me be successful in life.

Like Nancy, he taught me how to drive - very memorable experience.  His idea was pretty much sink or swim. His trust that I wouldn’t sink (drive off the road or into another car) gave me a great sense of confidence.  I must have practiced parallel parking with him for an hour and to this day, I can park anywhere with the first attempt, and every time I do, I think of him (really!) J.   I always felt that he believed I could do anything, especially if he had taught me it. We were always treated like we were 10 years older than we were. I had no curfew because he believed in my good judgment which is extremely unusual for parents of teenagers.  I don’t think I ever let them down. The day after I turned 16 and had my driver’s license I wanted to drive to the beach. My mom said no because she was afraid for me, but he said you have to let her go. Again, trust, confidence, belief in me! 

I am basically who I am today, a strong woman, due to him. Some people don’t like “strong women”. They are intimidated by them.  I thank him for this.  I love you Dad. 

Ron was at his "best" training others. He was actually a fairly patient teacher and trainer, but was well known for his "demonstrations." 

Dinners could be an adventure with Ron. Whenever there was a new bottle of catsup to be used, we would be shaking it to come out and Ron had to demonstrate the concept of an "impulse blow." With his huge hands, he turned that catsup bottle upside down and impulsed the bottom of the bottle with the heel of his hand. The catsup usually responded by moving up to the neck of the bottle. We always winced when he did this wondering when that baby would explode. One evening we were trying his method, but much more gently than he did, when he grabbed the bottle to "demonstrate." He impulsed that bottle and there was one massive explosion with casup on the table, floor and ceiling. Whenever we wanted a good laugh, we would say, "Why don't you give that an impulse blow!"


Perhaps Ron's greatest achievement was teaching my mother, Nancy, to drive. She was well into her late 30s and had never driven. So, Ron began to give her lessons in driving a car. She was a timid driver which didn't square well with Ron's personality. So, he took it upon himself to make her more agressive when she drove. My sister and I often had the "adventure" of being in the back seat during some of these lessons. I can remember my mom coming up onto the 5 freeway onramp and semi-trucks flying by in the right lane. She was being timid as she came up to the moment of truth. In his direct and explosive manner, Ron screamed at her, "Hit the hole, Nancy!" All my sister and I could see was the side of a tractor-trailer and our lives flashing before us. By some miracle of God's grace, mom did hit the hole and got the car between two semi's on the freeway! 
She did learn to drive and we all somehow survived.         

Ron Bruce was a builder. I can’t think of a time in his life when he wasn’t building something. So, engineering was the appropriate field of study for him. Because of his experience in electronics in the Navy (They made him an instructor) he took up electrical engineering at USC. But in order to put himself through college, he worked as a roofer and framer. He arrived on the job with his little hammer and the big Swede tossed it away and gave him a man-sized hammer to fit those enormous hands. It was here that he learned to build houses. Fresh with degree in hand, Ron’s first assignment was not electrical, but civil. He was tasked to help design the California Aqueduct! Later in the defense industry boom, Ron joined companies like Aerojet  General and Interstate Electronics (IEC). At IEC, he built guidance systems and led teams of men. This didn’t satisfy his hunger to build, so “on the side” he started an electrical contracting business, a restaurant, and finally his true love: a fruit orchard. He and his wife Nancy labored on this nectarine and plum orchard near Visalia after working their 40 hour/week jobs! Even into his 70’s, Ron kept farming whatever plot of ground he had. In Exeter, he and his wife Henrietta, had an acre of truck garden to farm and when he was no longer able to walk, and they had moved to a manufactured home in Fullerton, Ron built and farmed his little tomato patch. Like no one I have ever known, God had created those massive hands of his to build and create. Perhaps for Ron, that is what was meant to be “created in the image of God.”

By the time I was in third grade I realized that I loved to read; that was the year I discovered the "Little House" books... and whole new worlds opened up to me.  Unfortunately, the love of math did not run as deep. 

When my brother and I were kids, before our mom (Nancy) married Ron Bruce, we moved every year.  Maybe it was my love of reading that caused teachers to keep passing me along from grade to grade without ever noticing I lacked the most basic math skills... but it happened. 

By the time I was in the sixth grade I just couldn't hide it anymore.  When Ron found out I couldn't even do long division, he didn't make fun of me.  He didn't ask me how or why I got to that point... he just sat down with me at the enormous drafting board in his home office and set about teaching me.  He was more patient with me than I would remember from later in life.  I know he loved teaching and in one evening with him I learned the basic fundamentals of math.  Thank you, Pa. 

Today I got the news that my stepdad, Ron Bruce, passed away last night. I was expecting it and I am grateful that he was in a wonderful home with kind and tender people by his side. He didn’t suffer long and died peacefully. Pa had struggled for several decades with a form of ALS that slowly took his muscle strength and put him into a wheel chair. He had overcome bladder cancer, but in the end a form of leukemia dropped his white count and he died probably of infection.

Pa came into my life at about age 11. My mom, Nancy Lee Keith, had been single mom for my sister and I for close to ten years and remarried Ron in 1966. Just before deciding to marry, my mom came to my sister and I one night and said she was planning to remarry and it was between two men. Ron was a solid man who smacked of strength and consistency. Mom asked which we would want her to marry. My sister, Felicia and I conferred for a short time and made our decision. Ron would be the more sensible choice and would provide good security for all of us. They got married shortly after that.

Pa introduced us to a new world. My mom had never learned to drive and so our world was mostly confined to the hood we lived in and the yearly trip by taxi to Long Beach for a week in the summer. Ron gave us wheels and he loved to have adventures. He started taking us to national parks, like Yosemite and to place to pick fruit, like Cherry Valley and Yucaipa. He eventually taught mom to drive (that was an adventure) and she got a car and was herself mobile.

Pa was an electrical engineer and worked as a program manager at Interstate Electronics Corporation in Anaheim. He worked on guidance systems for Trident missiles. Pa was also a man who had done construction, built houses, and civil engineering all through college and even when he worked in defense. He was a man who loved to work and build things and do things with his hands. For a boy who had not grown up with a dad, it was Disneyland! Pa loved nothing better than to involve his family in his work projects and I was a willing disciple. He was one of the best trainers I have ever known. He was patient and he let me do things and make mistakes and learn. But I get ahead of myself.

The first year of marriage, we moved to La Mirada for my 6th grade. It was a tough time. The school was hard and I had few friends. My sister and I put up with some hardened characters and were not too happy there. But in between we took trips all over California as a family and started to have our world expand. This lasted only a year and both Pa and my mom accepted a transfer to Washington D.C. – He with Interstate and my mom with Hughes Aircraft. It was a learning experience being in the nation’s capital. We lived in Hillcrest Heights, MD. Every week we did sight seeing to places like Gettysburg, and Mount Vernon and up into Connecticut. There were some amazingly memorable times mixed with some very painful times as Pa and mom had some emotional atomic explosions with each other.

But in 1967 we moved back to California and I attended the 8th grade in Fullerton. Fullerton became home for the next five or six years. During these years, Pa and I did a lot together and he shaped me as a man. Pa taught me how to play golf and I became his golf buddy every weekend for several years. We played courses in MD, and many in California, although Los Seranos was our favorite, and Pebble Beach our most famous. Pa was patient and always encouraging. He held the club like a toothpick in his massive hands and I always wondered why the ball didn’t explode under the power of that swing. These were idyllic times for me walking beautiful park-like courses with Pa and helping him “see the ball.” I was his designated watcher. He taught me bowling and rolled a big 16 pound ball like he did, but when he rolled it the pins shattered!

Pa was a worker beyond question and he taught me skills with saws and drills and how to make a plan and execute it. We did electrical work trying to start a small contracting business on the side that he eventually turned over to a friend who made it into a thriving business. We took on the fast food restaurant business and built our building as well as our business. Ron’s Charbroiler and Freeze was a family operation that we all enjoyed running for a season and then bailed out of after learning a few things. Then we did something Pa had learned in college – building houses. I helped him with remods and then we built the house in La Habra Heights where I learned a lot about construction from Pa and also about how not to use grandparents as helpers. Our ill-fated attempt to put a TV areal up ended when I got electrocuted, but lived to tell about it. Forever after Pa said he was so glad I was OK or my mom would never have forgiven him. I forgave him and it became a story to share for all times.

Pa’s greatest desire was to start a fruit orchard in the San Joaquin Valley. He purchased forty acres off Road 156 in Farmersville, near Visalia. This became a LABOR of love for Pa and no so much for the rest of the family including my mom and sister. Mom got to spend every weekend after 40 hours of work driving the four hours up there on a Friday night and working like a dog all weekend and them coming home late Sunday night, with the only blessing to her, a stop at Marie Calendar’s in Bakersfield for dinner on the way home. But the ranch, as we called it, was a dream for Pa as he got to build things and plant and grow things and sell them in the market. It used all of his skills and abilities even if it didn’t bring him much financial success.

But along the way, my Pa was the dad that I never had. He took me golfing and bowling. We drove all over to national parks and places of interest in the early years. I learned how to plan and build things with my own hands and learned confidence to do anything that I put my mind and energies to. I learned the ethic even if I didn’t have Pa’s skill and knowledge. But I was his son and he showed me that in many ways including teaching me to drive and to take on challenges.

What will always be vivid in my mind are those huge strong hands that seemed to be able to do anything. I will always remember that smile and kid-in-a-candy-shop grin when something delighted him, especially when it was something he had planned and finished. I will remember that even in the midst of doing the family laundry at the Laundromat each weekend, he always found a fun element like having lunch at AJ’s Pastrami or ice cream at Dairy Queen. I will remember the way we hugged each other as men and the warmth I received when he fondly called me to jump in the truck with him, by saying, “Let’s go, Big Boy.” I remember the numerous birthdays and Fourth of July’s when it was the beginning of strawberry season and we had our traditional strawberries, shortcake, and whipped cream as Pa loved fresh fruit! I remember loving to get him tools for his birthday and seeking how tickled he was as tools and work were the common language between us.

Most of all, I remember a man who took an insecure, lonely boy under his wing and never batted an eye in treating him as his own son. Though I always called him Pa and not dad, in deference to my biological father, Ron Bruce was truly my dad – I knew it and he knew it – and he never hesitated to call me, son.

The enduring image of Pa is standing erect, all six feet and 220 pounds of him, smiling that wrinkled eye smile with the gold bridge showing and shaking those massive wrists to wind that silly self-winding watch of his and looking for all time as a mischievous little boy in a candy shop.

For 30 plus years, after I gave my life to Jesus, I shared my faith with Pa as often as I could and prayed for his salvation. He seemed to go in and out of interest in God, always seeming to fall back on only believing what he could see, feel, smell, and taste… but then in that moment of spiritual openness on that day four or five months ago, Pa prayed with me asking God to forgive him for the sin of rejecting Him and asking Jesus to forgive him and come into his life. It filled my heart with joy and I hold on to this as an anchor that my Pa is with my heavenly Father right this instant. I believe he is lying in Jesus’ arms being comforted because he understands the weight of sin lifted off of him by Jesus. And he is experiencing the awe and wonder of unspoiled creation in the presence of God. I have no doubt the Lord will have Pa working some portion of the kingdom and growing fruits and vegetables. And he will find his Nancy there and will finally experience the true joy of being the true daddy God had for him to be all along.

No matter what wounds that Pa carried that caused him to hurt others, there was such a redemptive part of his life that God used to redeem mine. To me, Ronald Frederick Bruce will always be Pa, and he will always be my dad.

I love you, Pa. Thank you for raising this boy into manhood. I look forward to seeing you again in the kingdom. Your son, Colin