A Start to the Story

I started this journey not knowing much about my father except that he loves the Doors, smoking, women, was a trained matador in Mexico, tried to publish a children's TV show, owned a Mexican restaurant, and designed the first casino cage in Atlantic City (known as the Thompson Cage) bumping arms with the mob.  Immediately, I knew there had to be more.  My brother and I have constantly asked for stories, but dad is not the type to divulge much in conversation.  We have learned through time how to master the art of pulling information.  My father is a very private man, so for him to open up is a difficult task but given his life, we can't help but want to know more.  One thing is for sure, my father is an exceptional man, one that has done many things in life, but none could be done without an influence of his parents.  My father was born in Phoenix, Arizona on January 6, 1943 to Quentin and Evelyn Ruby Thompson.  He has a brother Bill that is 8 years older than him that passed away, diagnosed with Alzheimer's, same as both my grandparents.

Grandpa was an interesting man, one that did not do well sitting around.  He was recruited into the war and became a builder during WWII, helping build bases for the military in Phoenix.  Once the war ended he met my grandmother (dad does not remember where but declares it was not in a bar, i asked several times) and decided to take the trade he learned and make it into a living.  He started a business called Thompson Construction and built homes in Scottsdale and Paradise Valley.  Grandpa Quentin became the man that people called to build their home, very very nice homes.  At the same time, they ran a Bulldog farm.  Sarge was dad's favorite, he would roam the streets and meet dad at school (he was 4 or 5 then) before the bell would ring.  Side note, if this does not tell you how different times have changed, I don't know what will - can you imagine your dog just roaming the streets with no worry??

The family eventually moved to Tempe due to business and space, dad was 4 or 5 then and the Bulldog farm ended, except a few came with, they were part of the family.  When I asked my dad, how he and his brother got along, my dad said "he was my hero".  I had to pause for a minute because my whole life, I have never understood their relationship.  I am 31 years old.  My dad has mentioned my uncle but only 4 or 5 times that I can recall, I maybe have met him once or twice.  I noted to myself that I need to dig into this at a later time, however I was excited to learn why my father looked at him this way.  Uncle Bill was an all state football and track player and got a scholarship to Arizona State for football.  Dad was in awe of him and wanted to follow in his footsteps.  To my dads credit, he did try to do just that.  He was an all-star baseball player, football player (half back freshman year), track player and even joined the tennis team junior year not knowing how to play but became the all-state tennis player by senior year.  My father, however will admit, his eyes were always on the ladies and was better intellectually even though he could keep up with sports.  Interesting fact however, my grandfather was the first person in Tempe to sponsor an "integrated" inner baseball league that dad played on.  This was a big deal for the city and as dad quoted "my dad didn't care if there where whites or blacks on the team, everyone deserved a chance to play and have fun".

At first glimpse, I am starting to understand my father and that he is my grandfathers son.  I am also understanding why my father is who he is and maybe why I am who I am.  As I was hanging up the phone tonight, dad laughed and said "it's a good thing you decided to start writing this stuff down, the book you gave me to do it in five years ago, yea...was never going to happen".