Charles Eugene Austin was born in Lindsey, Kansas, on January 14, 1927, to Roy William David Austin and Mildred Mary Ingram Austin. He told us that his mother was not making enough milk to keep him alive, so they borrowed goat's milk from the neighbor's goat to supplement his mother's milk. He was the fifth of six children with Roy David being born in 1917; Leo Clarence in 1919; Vera in 1921; Harold Gordon in 1923; and Joann Helen in 1933.

Dad's family was very poor. After they moved to Minneapolis, his dad walked to and from Lindsey every day to work as a farmhand. One time, it was so cold and snowy he caught a severe cold, perhaps even pneumonia. It took him a long time to recover, but he continued to sacrifice to support his family. Eventually, Granddad was hired by Ottawa County to help build bridges. Granddad wasn't an engineer, but he was a mathematical genius and could quickly add and subtract long columns of numbers in his head. He was instrumental in helping to build many of the bridges in Ottawa County, and the job provided stability and a truck, so he didn't have to walk to work anymore. Dad's mom also worked hard to support the family by cleaning houses and doing laundry for those who were better off. Every time I talked to Dad, he would say he didn't know how his parents did it, providing for six children, but he deeply appreciated their hard work, sacrifice, and Grandma's good cooking. She baked six loaves of bread every week in addition to cooking regular meals to keep her hungry crew fed.

When he was three or four, Dad was following one of his brothers through a fence, and a wire pierced his eye, so he lost most of the vision in that eye. The injury didn't seem to handicap him too much although he always had difficulty reading.

All of the Austin children went to work as soon as they could. When Dad was in the fifth grade, he started cleaning at Ewart's Grocery Store to help buy his school clothes and shoes. He said he often wore overalls without underwear and went barefooted in the summer, so his contribution was important. In a few years, he progressed from cleaning to delivering groceries. He was too young to have a license and could barely reach the pedals of the delivery truck, but he said it was a good experience because it taught him to value what he could buy and what his parents provided.

Dad turned 18 in 1945 at the end of World War II. He tried to join the Marines, but he was rejected because of his vision.

Mom thought Dad was the cutest boy she had ever seen, so she was happy when they started dating. They were married on May 5, 1945, and three years later a baby boy was born to the union, Thomas Eugene Austin. Merry Melissa came along three years after that, and they adopted their third child, Douglas Wayne, in 1957.

Following his father's example, Dad worked for Banna Construction Company building bridges. His favorite job was running the crane, but he loved working with all kinds of equipment. However, construction work can be dangerous, and while helping line up a pile driver, he lost the tip of his index finger. Despite the danger, he and our family followed jobs across Kansas and Oklahoma until he finally decided to settle down when Tom turned five and old enough to start school. He landed a job at Dillons Warehouse in Hutchinson, Kansas, and the family moved there from Wichita. He worked there for the next 40 years.

In Hutch, we lived for a time in a little green house, a home that Mom loved because it had a fake fireplace. We loved it, too, but soon outgrew it, so Dad and Mom built a split-level house on Eastland Drive. We had many adventures there, but one of my favorite memories was raising a garden. I was excited to see the plants produce and would pull up the infant veggies every day to examine their roots for signs of growth. Finally, Dad told me that wasn't the way to raise a garden, and he was right because the plants I tended died. After work, Dad occasionally rode bikes with us. He was strong and fast and could outpace me without any problem although Tom could keep up with him. He told us about training one of his childhood dogs to ride in the basket of his bike, so I taught our dog Measles to ride in mine. Poor dog, she shook the entire time we were cycling.

Dad had an adventurous streak and loved to travel and fish. We enjoyed going to Dillons Nature Center in Hutchinson where we would fish, swim, play on the tree bag swings, and have picnics, but our family vacations at the Dillons Resort near Evergreen, Colorado, were the best times of our lives. We loved the forests, the rivers, and the wildlife, and I honestly thought that was where the angels lived. The first year or two at the resort, we slept in tents with wooden bases, and we had to be careful the bears didn't rake through our garbage. After that, Dillons constructed rustic cabins for their employees, so we had more protection from the bears. Dad loved fishing in the resort's ponds, and one year, with Tom as the mastermind, we children built a small hut in the woods complete with flowers and a rock-lined path. We had so much fun that it was always a shock to return to the heat, wind, and humidity of Kansas.

Dad needed those breaks. He told me later that he always felt exhausted. He was diagnosed with Lupus when he was older, so that may have been part of the problem, but, like his parents, he also worked hard to provide for us and pay the bills.

Although Mom thought Dad was super cute and loved him to the end of her life, they had polar opposite personalities. She was gregarious, generous, and extroverted. He was quiet, thrifty, and introverted. Those differences, along with other issues, led to their divorce when I was in the sixth grade, and Tom was in middle school.

After the divorce, Dad bought a Harley motorcycle and an apartment house in Hutch. We moved to Minneapolis. We didn't see much of Dad during those years, but he soon married Margaret. She had twin daughters, Kathy and Beth, from a previous marriage, and they were very good for him.

Tom was always willing to reconnect with Dad, and after he and Karalee married, they moved to Hutchinson where Tom worked for the Hutchinson Park Department. He was the only one with a high school education, so he soon became a supervisor with his own truck. Later, he applied for and landed a job at Dillons. Dad always said he had nothing to do with Tom being hired, but Dad was the president of the Employee's Union, and Tom suspected that name recognition didn't hurt his chances. Tom worked in produce/freezer, and Dad in the grocery warehouse. Tom Austin Jr. was born in Hutch on Thanksgiving Day in 1969.

After his retirement, Dad and Margaret traveled around the country. He gave up his motorcycle after they had an accident in New York, but they continued to travel in their Southwest Motorhome, sometimes with his mom and siblings. He also did handyman work for neighbors and friends, delivered Meals on Wheels, and turned his garage into a woodworking shop where he created wooden puzzles and knickknacks. He and Margaret displayed his artwork at craft shows around Kansas.

His greatest passion was Amateur (Ham) Radio. He earned the call sign WA0VCE and was an amateur extra class, which is the highest-class license available to Ham radio operators. It requires an operator to know electronics forward and backward and is likened to having a college degree in the field. Most of his close friends were members of the Hutchinson radio club, and if one moved away, Dad stayed in touch through the radio and visited them in the motorhome. He had a massive beam antenna mounted in his yard on a windmill tower and talked to people all over the world. Language was never a barrier because he loved communicating in CW, telegraph key, with Morse Code being the international language.

During his retirement, he also began a family newsletter. All of his siblings wrote a page or two about their monthly activities. He compiled them into the newsletter and mailed it to family members. About that same time, he and his sister Vera became interested in family genealogy and took trips to Oklahoma to gather information. Thanks to their efforts, we now have a treasure trove of Austin family's history.

After we all moved to Utah, Dad tried to make amends for our broken family. He and Margaret visited us periodically, and he even helped Doug with some construction inside his new bakery. Dad never was much of a talker, but he told me once that he was sorry for what had happened, and that meant the world to me.

Dad was devastated when Margaret passed away in 2006. However, he tried to stay healthy by following the example set by his mother. She never learned to drive, so she walked everywhere and lived a happy, healthy, long life. He walked around his neighborhood and rode his bike down to the park, pulling his dog Duchess in a trailer behind him. He would always say, "The last time I saw the doctor, he told me, 'I don't know what you're doing, but keep it up,' so that's what I try to do." He walked twice a day even when he had to use a cane or a walker.

Gradually, Dad's mental-and-emotional health deteriorated to the point he could no longer live at home. I'm deeply grateful that Tom and Karalee intervened and brought him to Minneapolis to live with them until his medical issues grew so severe, they could no longer provide the care he needed. I know he appreciated all they did to bless his life.

Dad died on December 19, 2021, at the Nicol Home in Glasco, Kansas, a month short of his 95 ^th birthday. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that our Savior loves each of us, and I imagine Him hugging Dad and acknowledging what a tough time he had here on earth during his final years. I also know that Dad's memory has been restored, and he's now able to understand heavenly things in an accelerated way. No doubt, he's having a grand reunion with his grandparents, parents, siblings, Margaret, and his many beloved dogs, grateful to be out of his aging body, grateful for the restoration of his mind, and grateful for the divine love of our Savior.

Services for the family were held on Thursday, January 6, 2022, at Wilson Family Funeral Home, Minneapolis.  Memorials may be made to the Nicol Home and be mailed to Wilson Family Funeral Home, P.O. Box 166, Minneapolis, KS 67467.

Written by daughter, Merry.