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Charles Carter Baker


My Dad, Chuck, Sonny, Papa Kahn. He was born July 26, 1939 to Charlie Carter Baker and Ruth Mildred Boyer Baker. He was their third child and only son. At age six, he fell from a slide, acquiring a head injury that left him with epilepsy. From a very young age, he determined to be a Christian. He shunned wrong doing and devoted his life to church work and godly living. That didn't stop him from being fun loving and adventurous. He had several girlfriends before he met my mother, Carrol Ann Mincks. He has a terrible memory due to his epilepsy and so I don't know his first recollections very well, but I've heard lots of stories. According to my mom, he was engaged once before he met my mother and one stunt he did to impress his "other" girl was to do flips around the bar that extends off a telephone pole. He was a bit wild with his "adventures". He would take any dare. He tried to swim across the rapidly flowing Rogue River, and ended up in the middle of the river with cramps. He did death defying dives. He was party to pranks and other fun loving displays. He terrorized his younger sister, Darlene like his son, my brother David did years later to me.

My dad was named after my grandfather, Charlie Carter Baker. We didn't realize his name wasn't Charles until he passed away and grandma found his birth certificate with Charlie printed on it. Charlie was from Texas. I believe I still have cousins there. Grandma Ruth was from Pennsylvania. I don't know how she and Gramps met up. I do know that her maiden name was Baer, but her family changed it to Boyer so they wouldn't seem so German after the atrocities were exposed in WWII. Grandma was the only grandmother I knew. She was always busy. She and Grandpa would snore in chorus, one breathing in while the other breathed out. She was brisk and not overly affectionate, but I knew I was loved. She made fudge and other Christmas candies, carrot jello, salisbury steak and always had hard candy available. I loved searching through her drawers and finding treasures. She would give one quick hard hug whenever she greeted us or said goodbye. She would stand on the porch whenever we would leave her home in Grants Pass, Oregon and would wave until we were out of sight. My grandparents both lived to be in their 80's. My aunt Pearl passed away when she was 18 years old in a fatal car accident that took several other lives as well. She was riding with her friend's family as they headed out for a picnic. A dairy truck, causing Pearl, her friend's brother and his wife and a few of their children to die hit them. Her friend, Leta Olsen and her niece, Sharon survived, I'm not sure who else. Dad doesn't remember his sister much.

Charlie Carter Baker and Ruth Naomi Baker had four children, Neoma Joli, Pearl Baker, Charles Carter Baker, and Darlene Haberman.

Dad and mom were married just a few short years, my sisters Annie and Penny were little girls and Dad wanted healing from his epilepsy. He had prayed over the years for God to intervene and to take away his ailment. He did all he could think to, but never received healing. He was unable to drive a car and wasn't able to do certain jobs. My Dad is a poet and his experience I am going to share with you is best read in his poem, "It was the night before Christmas". I'll have to get a copy of that and type it in. But, in my words, it was the night before Christmas. Dad was tired of trying to get God to heal him. He put his medicine on the chest and just told God how he was feeling. He normally had his seizures at night. That night, he laid down in his bed and he felt that seizure coming on. He has told me that he felt God draw a line, and that seizure never came. I never knew my dad as an epileptic. He is a car hog, hardly ever letting my mom drive their new fancy wheels. His job is crane operator. For years he was the Sunday school bus superintendent, participating and over bus driving schedules.