I realize, belatedly, that future generations may very likely need information concerning the paternal side of our immediate family, and therefor I will give you the little knowledge concerning them, that is in my possession.
William Joseph Vincent Phillip King was the son of Lithuanian parents. Their name was originally Karalius, which was anglicized to become King. His father was an excellent tailor, but worked mostly in New York City. He was seldom ever in Baltimore with his family. I always wondered about that, but naturally no one volunteered any information. He was a rather handsome man; quiet, spoke little. I have no idea the city or town of his origin, although one year Phil and I drove to New York, to see him off for a trip to Europe, presumably to visit his old country. He did, however, learn the English language.
His wife was a rather voluble Lithuanian, who stayed within the Lithuanian community in Baltimore, near Carroll Park, where they owned their home. She never learned the English language, which caused many problems between us. I could never get used to hearing her talking a mile a minute, and scattering my name all through her conversation, and never knowing what she was saying about me. I really resented it. Obviously, we never got to be the best of friends. Today, one of the causes which I support monetarily, as best I can afford, is the English First movement. My first hand knowledge of persons living in this country, but refusing to learn it's language, no doubt contributes to my hope that this will someday be changed, by law if need be. It is so important! How can immigrants ever hope to become part of the mainstream of society without this vital first tool? And if they want to become part of America, why come here in the first place?
Phil had a sister, Lois, who had an unhappy love affair and went off to join a convent. She entered the Misericordia Convent in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and we visited her there occasionally. The entire family was Catholic, and before we were married,Phil had pressured me into joining the faith. I did - but it didn't "take". I ever liked being forced into things, and that started off most of the problems Phil and I had. He was a great one for standing over me and seeing that I toed up to all of the Catholic dogma - a great stumbling block for me in this was the required confessional periodically - but he never went himself! This didn't do a thing for me. Lois's mother gradually became incapacitated, and it was at the very time that she needed her most, that Lois left home to enter the convent. I couldn't understand that at all; still can't. She said God would take care of her mother. That didn't look like any sensible religion at all to me, but who am I to judge?
Then there was a younger brother, Albert. He was a handsome guy and very likable. He somehow entered a monastery while very young, but his love of worldly things came to the surface, before that became irrevocable, and he left the order. He volunteered for the Army just before Pearl Harbor, and was at Wheeler Air Field when it was struck by the Japanese. He lived through it all however, married, and had one daughter, Alana. Recently, my daughter Pat told me that he had paid her a visit while she was still in Ellicott City, before moving to Texas. She took a snapshot, which showed he is still as handsome as ever; he is still in the service, and has advanced to a Colonel, I believe. I liked Al.
There was another, older brother, Peter. He was rather a recluse. Right out of the blue, however, he announced that he was going to California to visit the Rosicruciens! I don't know what had been going on his head to bring that on, but he went and stayed for quite a few months. When he returned, he was a cripple! He said it was arthritis, but it surely did come on quickly. He didn't have it when he left. It was all very mysterious. He went downhill fast, and died not too long after his return, as I remember it. Strange!
Phil was a handsome person, himself. He did have one problem, in that from childhood, one of his eyes would occasionally stray from its moorings and create a crossed eye impression. This was never attended to at the early time when it needed correction, and he was always afraid he was going to lose the sight in that eye,which gradually did become a real problem. Pat inherited that weakness in her eyes, but at the age of three, I had an operation performed that straightened the eye, and after a few years of wearing glasses, she regained excellent eye sight, and has had no further trouble, all through her life. I'm so glad that could be done.
After we separated during World War II, Phil joined the Army himself, and went overseas. I believe he was in the Pacific area, but am really not sure. After he returned to the states he eventually remarried, I believe, to a girl he had known before we were married, and from somewhere I have heard, that they lived in Arbutus, a suburb of Baltimore. The may not be correct. At any rate, he died about ten years or more ago - he was found sitting up in a rocking chair.
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