One of the reasons my mother didn’t realize how poor the family was during the Depression was because they had both a car and a telephone, luxuries most other families in the ward did not have. But they needed those tools because Homer had to be instantly available when called; if he couldn’t be reached, the company went on to the next man on the list. And he needed a car so he could get to the refineries at any time, day or night, even when the streetcars weren’t running.

Whatever caused the breakup of my grandparents’ marriage, it wasn’t for any shortness in Homer’s willingness to work for the support of his family, regardless of the personal cost.

(Jeff is a grandson of Homer’s younger brother, the brother I report as receiving the mission call that Homer filled. I appreciate Jeff’s and his own brother’s not holding that claim against me, reflecting as it does somewhat negatively on their grandparents, especially when I have no documentary evidence for the family lore. I will, though, report my grandmother’s repeated assurance that Jeff’s grandfather took good care of my grandmother during Homer’s mission, and treated my infant mother with the same fatherly generosity as he treated his own infant son, born 6 days after my mother. Grandma Taylor raised two fine sons!)

I understood that Homer worked “decoking” the retorts used to boil crude oil as part of the refining and “cracking” process. Is that correct?

These retorts are large pressure boiling vessels with access portals. Over time in operation, the heaviest fractions of the crude oil break down under the constant heat, and deposit on the heated surfaces of the vessel as a hard crust (like gravy burning on the bottom of a pan). Over time, this accumulated black rock-like material gets so thick, it impairs heat transfer from the outside burners to the boiling crude oil, and the boiler looses efficiency. At some point, they shut it down and drain what residual crude oil will come out. Then, as soon as it cools enough, (still pretty hot) they bring in the on-call “De-Cokers” who shimmy in through the portals with sledge hammers and picks, and these men, working in a hot, smoking, carcinogen-packed boiler, go to work chipping and pounding off the black coating and shoveling it out the portal so that that the boiler can be put back into efficient operation. Since the entire associated section of the refinery shuts down during this process, the men employed for this nasty task had to be available on virtually no notice, 24 hours a day, in order to limit down-time. I believe the dangerous work paid well, but took a heavy toll on its practitioners.

What a blessing for her and kudos to you for research skills and diligence that made that possible for your mother to know the truth.

Yeah, TOClark, it’s apparently resting on someone’s vanished knee. Still I like the picture this way with the unusual crossed legs, much better than if Dad had cropped it across the chest to make a more common portrait pose.