The marvelous baby Chris was born on the last day of March, 1943. His parents, Robert and Jan, turned 21 that year. They were a couple of smart kids who’d met at the University of Missouri in Columbia. They had married the previous March. They marveled at the incredible little human they’d produced.
Jan graduated in 1942 with a double major in journalism and something else. Maybe business. Bob was an engineering student. He was just short of graduating when they left school and moved from Missouri to California. Jan’s parents had moved to San Diego earlier for work. There was work in the aircraft industry. Bob easily got a job as an aeronautical engineer.
Chris, Jan and Bob frequently visited Jan’s parents in San Diego. It was close to Glendale but they usually stayed overnight anyway. Jan’s half brother, Harry Wisner jr.,had also moved to southern California from Missouri. I imagine frequent family dinners at the Morris grandparents’ home in San Diego. Harry Wisner had married recently also and had a daughter about Chris’ age. They were two little cousins; two young grandchildren.
William and Ethel Morris doted on their grandson. No wonder. Chris was such a bright, lively, curious fellow. He had pale yellow hair, looping in curls like a halo around his head. About fifty years later, Forrest Orick toddled around with that same captivating head of curling blonde hair, charming his grandparents.
In that first year of Chris’ life he was the star. The rising star. Warm sunshine, close family and a happy glow of optimism lit his new little family..
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