disco king

I recently began the first of many interviews for this book. I was up in Fort Worth for a few days, so my mom and I planned out an hour or so to talk. There was a slight apprehension before our conversation began - not because we didn't want to talk about my dad, it's just not something we do often. It turned out to be a great conversation, no doubt the first of many.

We started by discussing how they met. My mom’s best friend, who is also my dad’s cousin, introduced them to one another when my mom was finishing up her journalism-advertising degree at the University of North Texas. My dad was working as a graphic designer for a design firm in Dallas at the time. After a few failed attempts at an introduction, the two finally met and the rest is history. They dated through the end of my mom's college days and got married shortly after.

My favorite part of the conversation was when I asked my mom what they did for fun.

“We would go dancing,” she said, her face lighting up a little.

It was the late 70s; my mom was in her early 20s, my dad in his late 20s. He loved to disco and he actually won first place in a contest once. I couldn't contain my laugther at that one - all I could picture was John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. They would frequent clubs in Dallas like the No. 3 Lift, The Bellringer and Circle Disco. Greenville Ave. and NW Highway were the places to be when they were young. I’d love to see if those buildings are still standing today. 

We went on to discuss the beginning of their marriage. They lived in a small apartment together; Las Colonitas in Dallas. They bought a dog together, a terrier named Tiger whose owner had recently passed away. "He was the best little dog," my mom said. They would walk him every day when they both got home from work.

I learned that my dad was a habitual key-loser, much like myself (although I lose much more than just keys.) My mom says he would never set them down in the same place twice. He was often absent-minded, off in his own little world - also similar to my own nature. He was great at meeting work deadlines, but often forgot to pay the bills on time. 

"He was Adam, all the way," my mom said.

Our initial conversation was short, but we plan to have many more. Although details are small, I still cherish them. They may seem irrelevant, but these are the things that help me paint a picture of who my dad was. It's the little things that will help me write the story of his life. I look forward to the next talk with my mom.

-Becca