OPINION
4A
THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, MAY 20, 2016
A salute to all the brave
parents and heroes
By MURIEL JENSEN
For The Daily Astorian
T
he approach of Memorial Day brings to mind
thoughts of our heroes.
At this time in our history, I am humbled by
the courage displayed by our military, by their will-
ingness to offer all and to give it, all too often. We are
blessed, and our security is assured, by their heroism.
Heroism, though, isn’t found only in combat.
Many men display great bravery on the battlefi eld of
their ordinary lives. My father, Michael Pacheco of
New Bedford, Massachusetts, was such a man.
Of Portuguese extraction, he was 5 feet 7 inches
tall with a beautiful beaky nose, thick gray hair, and
a sort of “Godfather ” vibe. He left school in the sixth
grade, because that’s what lower middle -class immi-
grant children did in the early
1930s, and went to work to help
support the family.
He deserves an award for
bravery because he was mar-
ried to my mother, Jeannette
Bourgeois Pacheco. She was
an inch shy of 5 feet tall with
a serious Napoleonic personal-
ity. She had boundless enthu-
siasm for all kinds of things,
and I think he decided early on
Muriel
that agreeing with whatever
Jensen
she wanted to do was easier
and less exhausting than opposing it.
(I should mention here that he was part of the
85th Custer Division involved in the liberation of
Rome during World War II. He was also part of a
team that liberated an Austrian general from the
Nazis. He was one of just a few who returned from
that mission, and was awarded the Bronze Star. It
isn’t that he lacked the warrior instinct. But my
mother was like Joan of Arc on steroids.)
C
ases in point: I was born to her sister, Estelle,
in January 1945. In April of that year, Estelle
died, leaving a husband and 14 children. Many of
the younger children were taken in by the older
ones who were married, and the older boys stayed
with our natural father. Jeannette and Mike had
been married almost 10 years at that point and
had no children. Jeannette wanted to adopt my
9-year-old sister Lorraine and me, but Mike was in
Italy with the Fifth Army. She contacted the Red
Cross, who fi nally found him. They talked on the
phone. He told her that he was in agreement with
the adoption, but, though he had every intention
of coming home, she should be prepared to raise
us by herself if the worst happened. She started
proceedings.
Happily, he came home and we settled into
life on the second fl oor of a tenement in New
Bedford. He was a foreman in a handbag factory,
and Jeannette stayed home. Life was good.
Muriel Jensen’s dad, Mike Pachec
y older sister, Rita, lived several blocks
Submitted Photo
o, with her at about 10 months
old in his lap. Her sister, Lorrain
nette, round out the family pho
from us and had a daughter, Jenny, just six
e, 9, and mom, Jean-
to.
months younger than I. We were constant com-
panions throughout our childhood.
I remember the two of us leaving her house one snowy
afternoon to go to my house. Instead of the usual one-block
My mother was like
walk to the main thoroughfare, which would take us to my
home three blocks away, we decided to explore and walked
Joan of Arc on steroids.
along a back street. We were stopped by a couple of bigger
boys who pelted us with snowballs for being in their neigh-
borhood. Jenny broke away and ran to my house, telling my
The summer between my junior and senior year, I was
parents something like, “Two boys grabbed Muriel and I got
given custody of our class mascot, a rubber lizard named,
away!”
appropriately, Lizzie. I’m not sure how it started, but I care-
My father declared, “That dog has got to go!” My sister lessly left it on my bed and scared my mother to death with
The boys’ intentions were no more sinister than squashing
snowballs on my face, but while I was doing a creditable job of squared her shoulders and said, “If the dog goes, I go.” In support it when she came in to vacuum. So we all started hiding it on
disarming them, my father, with Jenny trying to keep up, came of my sister, I added, “I’m going with Lorraine!” My mother, one another.
running down the street. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt, pajama who sometimes saw humor in the strangest things, said, “Well, if
At the beginning of my senior year, I was to give a speech
bottoms and his bedroom slippers. He had to be freezing. The the dog and the kids are gone, you won’t need me.”
to parents and students about our fi nal year in high school. I
“Fine!” he shouted. “Why don’t you all stay home and I’ll opened my small clutch purse to retrieve my notes, and Lizzie,
boys ran and he shouted at me for not following the more pub-
go?!” He left, and was back in half an hour with ice cream.
lic road home.
stuffed in like the last pickle in a jar, popped out. Everyone got
While I was offended at the time, I often think about the
a good laugh, Dad, the perpetrator, particularly.
e bought me a Cinderella watch after he suffered a slipped
love that sent him running out the door without stopping long
ur family was far from perfect. The French and Portuguese
disk and I told him I asked the kids in my third grade class
enough to grab a jacket or run around the back to get the car in
are volatile and passionate and every complaint or dissent
at St. Anthony’s to pray for him.
the dead of a Massachusetts’ winter.
Lorraine joined the convent after high school and my par- is spoken at high volume. But my parents were loving and kind
e got a puppy at about that same time, a toy fox terrier ents and I went to Canada to see her investiture. She received a and dug in to do whatever had to be done at a time when there
with a big personality and budding teeth. The fi rst time white veil, indicating she was a novice, and was given the name was no such thing as ‘fi nding yourself.’ Whatever they wanted
we left him alone, my mother tied him to the leg of the sofa, by which she would be known for the rest of her life. She chose personally was always second to what the family needed. As I
thinking he would be unable to reach anything valuable.
struggle to be a good person today, I think about how easy they
“Sister Michael” for our father.
My father’s leather-bound Zane Grey collection was in a
When that was announced, he burst into tears. It was the made it look.
bookcase across the room.
A salute to all those parents out there who battle life every
fi rst time I’d ever seen him cry.
Are you ahead of me? When we got home, Zane Grey was
He worked nights when I went into high school, but he got up day to keep their children safe and loved.
everywhere. Tippy had chewed through his leash, most of the a few hours early every Friday night to take my friends and me to
Astoria resident Muriel Jensen has published more than 70
books, the bottom of the sofa and the rocker of a chair.
our football games, then brought us home and went on to work. books and novellas.
M
W riter’s
N otebook
H
O
W
Where to write
• U.S. Rep. Suzanne Bonamici (D): 2338
Rayburn HOB, Washington, D.C., 20515.
Phone: 202- 225-0855. Fax 202-225-9497. Dis-
trict offi ce: 12725 SW Millikan Way, Suite 220,
Beaverton, OR 97005. Phone: 503-469-6010.
Fax 503-326-5066. Web: bonamici.house. gov/
• U.S. Sen. Jeff Merkley (D): 313 Hart Sen-
ate Offi ce Building, Washington, D.C. 20510.
Phone: 202-224-3753. Web: www.merkley.sen-
ate.gov
• U.S. Sen. Ron Wyden (D): 221 Dirk-
sen Senate Offi ce Building, Washington, D.C.,
20510. Phone: 202-224-5244. Web: www.
wyden.senate.gov
• State Rep. Brad Witt (D): State Capi-
tol, 900 Court Street N.E., H-373, Salem, OR
97301. Phone: 503-986-1431. Web: www.leg.
state.or.us/witt/ Email: rep.bradwitt@state.
or.us
• State Rep. Deborah Boone (D): 900 Court
St. N.E., H-481, Salem, OR 97301. Phone: 503-
986-1432. Email: rep.deborah boone@state.
or.us District offi ce: P.O. Box 928, Cannon
Beach, OR 97110. Phone: 503-986-1432. Web:
www.leg.state.or.us/ boone/
• State Sen. Betsy Johnson (D): State Cap-
itol, 900 Court St. N.E., S-314, Salem, OR
97301. Telephone: 503-986-1716. Email: sen.
betsy johnson@state.or.us Web: www.bet-
syjohnson.com District Offi ce: P.O. Box R,
Scappoose, OR 97056. Phone: 503-543-4046.
Fax: 503-543-5296. Astoria offi ce phone:
503-338-1280.
• Port of Astoria: Executive Director, 10 Pier
1 Suite 308, Astoria, OR 97103. Phone: 503-741-
3300. Email: admin@portofastoria.com
• Clatsop County Board of Commis-
sioners: c/o County Manager, 800 Exchange
St., Suite 410, Astoria, OR 97103. Phone:
503-325-1000.
STEPHEN A. FORRESTER, Editor & Publisher • LAURA SELLERS, Managing Editor
BETTY SMITH, Advertising Manager
• CARL EARL, Systems Manager
JOHN D. BRUIJN, Production Manager
• DEBRA BLOOM, Business Manager
HEATHER RAMSDELL, Circulation Manager
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