In Memory


Doug Taylor



 My father’s name was Douglas Lee Taylor. The name Douglas means dark river, or black hills. That is nothing at all like him. My definition for Douglas is a man who everyone loved; who everyone wanted to have as a best friend, who everyone thought was hilarious. He built confidence in people. When I was a lot younger, my daddy always told me that if I wanted to climb a mountain and touch the clouds that touched the stars, I could. Ever since then, I have always wanted to climb the highest mountain in the world, and I hope I will someday. My favorite times with Dad were when I was a lot younger. I would have a heck of a day and cry, and then when my Daddy got home, he would take me into his arms and walk me around the cull-de-sack. He walked me around the cull-de-sack until I was asleep in his arms, or until I stopped crying and had a big smile on my face. Dad always had a way of making me feel better. He always told me that I was more like him than anyone he knew. It was almost as if we had the same body. Whenever I was sick, he was sick. Whenever I was hungry or thirsty, he was too. But that is just an example. My Dad’s favorite book to read me when I was little and tucked into bed was The Little Bunny Foo Foo. He would read it to me at least twice every night he could, because he said he thought the bunny rabbit was just like our kitty Tom. Tom was my Daddy’s favorite animal in the world, because he is a real weird cat. Sometimes Dad would wake me up in the middle of the night to show me what new funny thing that fat cat was doing, and took a lot of pictures of him when he was sleeping in the salad bowl. The cat rarely stayed inside, but whenever my Daddy was home, he would suddenly appear after three days and lie on top of him, or on his laptop because it was warm. That darn cat never loved anyone as much as he did my Dad. My dad never really liked our old golden Retriever, Murphy. Murphy always jumped in joy and shedded all over his suit. But one day, my Daddy was really sick and was throwing up everywhere. Murphy laid beside him the whole day rubbing his head on my Daddy’s hand. Daddy didn’t mind him much after that. Daddy was the best impressionist on the planet Earth. One night, Dad came home with the funniest story about when he went to Nordstrom’s to pick out a jacket. There was this lady standing there who had a small thread on her clothes. When she took it off, she was spreading out the long thread as if in welcoming arms. Daddy, of course, didn’t see the thread and thought she was some lady he hadn’t seen in forever opening for a hug. So, my daddy gives her a big hug and says, “How are you!” But when his impressions got going, it was about this gay salesman who tried to help him get a jacket and insisted on a bomber jacket because he did not have a behind, or a “caboose”. Daddy ended up wearing that bomber jacket every day of his life after that. It did look real nice. Dad had such a love and passion for everything, and tried to make everyone laugh, which he succeeded in most of the time. He loved his friends and he loved his family. He loved the ranch, too. The reason why I am not worried about my daddy is because of a dream we both had the same night. In my dream, I was lying in bed and turned over. There I saw Papa Tex, my dad’s dad, sitting there on my desk chair smiling at me. He was wearing the usual outfit I remembered him by, a collared shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and his fish bolo tie. I said, “ Hi Papa Tex! How’s Heaven!” He was still smiling and said, “Oh, it’s real nice. I made a lot of friends.” I thought about my Dad. “So how’s my daddy doing? I haven’t seen him in a while; summer has been way too hectic. What going to happen with him?” I asked. “Well, don’t you worry about a thing. You’re daddy is going to be just fine. The Lord knows what’s happening and he says your daddy will be fine. Everything is going to be okay from now on,” he said, “Now lay your head down and go to sleep.” So, I turned over and went to sleep. The next morning, I found my chair in the exact position my Papa Tex had set it at, and it wasn’t like that the night before. That night, my daddy came over to cook us our favorite meal, fried shrimp, rice, and salad. While my Dad and I were making it, I told him about the dream. He asked me when I had it and I told him. He said, “Really? That’s funny, I had a dream with Papa Tex in it too!” He told me that he had this horrible dream and how he was worried and scared, then Papa Tex came into his dream and said, “Son, everything is going to be okay now.” I was surprised. But when my Daddy died, I thought, “He’s in Heaven with Papa Tex now, maybe that’s what he was trying to say to us.” Thank you.



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05/06/09 08:39 AM #1    

Gil Price

  10/2003 DOUGIE Where does one start about such a good friend in a relationship that spanned 40 years. Of course I could start by saying that anything involving Doug always seemed to be, well shall we say Wonderfully Complicated. Such Wonderful Complications by themselves gave Doug a certain mystique that has grown into legendary proportions. Early in our friendship it was quite apparent that his wit and charm were unsurpassed. He is the only one I know that can look you in the eye and insult you with a clever remark that actually made you feel better. In those zaney high school days Doug and I would, for a moment of calm, go to a dark Italian restaurant on the Austin Highway. A jute box had the most wonderful song that Doug and I accepted as a theme song of sorts, the song was Frank Sinatra’s “It was a very good year”. We were 17 and it was a very good year. Until recently we would send each other tapes of our favorite tunes. The last song on each of my tapes would be “It was a very good year”. THOSE PESKY DEMONS. Doug was also a generous man. When my Dad died three years ago he came in from LA just to be with me. At the graveside service for the family, I leaned over to Doug and gave him my remarks that I had written down and asked him to read them. Without hesitation he did one quick read through, got up and did such a beautiful job. That was Doug’s genius. THOSE UNRELENTING DEMONS Just two months ago my son Andrew, Betty and I were waiting for Doug before we entered the Jay Leno show. The three of us were at the head of the line ready to go in and had given up hope on Doug. At the last second Doug shows up with that expressive grin, impeccably dressed and of course shooting barbs everywhere including the 350 people behind us that had been waiting three hours and were hoping to get in. Of course they probably felt better. It was once again Wonderfully Complicated but who would want it any other way. I am so happy we got a chance to see him one last time. THOSE CRUEL AND EXHAUSTING DEMONS On that fateful Thursday night as Doug’s life was draining from his body at the restaurant, I got out of bed and was drawn to a photo album in our bedroom; the second one from the right on a bookshelf that was crowded with other albums. It fell open to a page of pictures taken at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. At the bottom of the page was a picture of Betty and Doug. Doug had taken us for a walk on Venice Beach. As you might expect the walk was Wonderfully Complicated because Doug insisted on taking this walk while he was on crutches. In the picture he was draped over the crutches; he was wearing a t-shirt that showed his trim and muscular body. Across the front of the shirt, “Fell down stairs”. His face had that quizzical ironic expression that you loved to expect from Doug. I looked into his eyes in the picture and he looked into mine as I was the photographer, I thought what a great friend Doug had been. Without looking at any other pictures I put the book back on the shelf and went to sleep. An hour later I received the tragic news. But now the days are short I am in the autumn of the year And now I think of my life as a vintage wine From fine old kegs From the brim to the dregs It poured sweet and clear It was a very good year  

07/14/09 09:58 PM #2    

Marie Coney (Zunker)

What a shock to hear of Doug's passing. I felt privileged to have know this wonderfully funny guy. Doug and Mike Pogue, went off to Coast Guard boot camp together in the summer of '69. Later on in December, he was a groomsman at Mike & I's wedding. While we were getting ready, Doug took Mike's shoes and wrote "help me" on the bottom of them, so when we knelt down at the front of the church, our guests got a few chuckles.

I also remember a few years later, Doug had a male rabbit and we had a female rabbit. We thought it would be nice to introduce them to each other. Well we introduced them, they fell in love, got married, and had a very quick honeymoon......5 seconds to be exact. Then our bunny kicked his bunny, his bunny flipped backwards and that was the end of that relationship. There were no baby's produced, thank goodness!!!

Rest in peace you sweet, gentle, funny man........I can hear you doing "Wipe Out" with your mouth on a soft white cloud up there!

08/04/09 09:36 PM #3    

Gil Price



i know that i was not in your graduating class, but i felt that i, too, wanted to say something about what doug meant to me. first of all, he represented my youth.....a time of innocence but also a time of testing the waters. doug and i dated for roughly two and a half years, and yes, i can close my eyes and hear him play 'wipe-out' with his tongue and cheek, i can see him with a load of passengers in his green and white v.w. bus headed out for lunch, and i can still smell his aramus, his signature cologne.
more importantly, we remained long-distance friends for over twenty years. we started by calling each other on our birthdays. when it seemed that we just did not have enough time to play catch-up, the calls became more frequent. even when my husband, son, and i moved to canada, he would call from his office in l.a. and include a good client of his or even my mother in a three way call. because of his jocose remarks and stories, i always kept a box of tissues close by. our conversations always started with our kids ....then regressed to the good old days...... and back again to our kids. i knew that he would make a wonderful father, and he boosted of molly and andy's accomplishments whether it was molly's first step or whether he would eventually give his car to andy. i miss his laughter, his witticism, and the shared reminisces of our teenage years. i and many of you lost a wonderful friend in the year of 2003.

08/15/09 10:03 PM #4    

Glenna Krumboltz (Smith)

I met Doug in 7th grade when we both were playing drums in the band. The band director, Tommy Feidler, thought Doug was an incredible drummer even then. I thought he was the funniest person and best friend a person could have. In 8th grade,he and Gay Gordon (Rogers) and I with help from assorted other badasses in the percussion group used to torture poor Phil Glosserman. Doug was sort of like Charles Manson back in those days---he thought up these crazy things to do, and we all followed his orders like good little soldiers. When we got to high school, band class was what I looked forward to the most because of him. We used to laugh ourselves sick because of Doug's jokes and immitations of people. Mr. Cranford, never one to be very patient, really had his hands full with the percussion section. We didn't have to blow into an instrument so we could all be laughing while we were playing some song. Mr. Cranford was, shall we say, very high-waisted, and used to wear his pants really high on his torso. Doug came in one day and put his hand over his opposite shoulder and said "What is this?" We gave up. He said, "Mr. Cranford reaching for his wallet."

We used to talk on the phone at night. My grandmother worked at Trinity Univ. (as did Doug's father) so I was over there often just goofing around. He loved all of his family a lot, but Andy, his brother, was very special to him. We would all pile in his VW bus and take Andy with us and go do silly things together, like going to Earl Able's and ordering 3 or 4 different entrees and telling the waitress they were all for Andy. It seemed so natural that he would name his beloved son Andy.

I never got over the fact that Doug didn't become a full time standup comedian. He could have had spinach in his braces and made people laugh. But he brought so much joy to so many people's lives, and I am grateful that he was my friend.

P.S. How many of you remember the INCREDIBLE job he did in 8th grade in "The Crucible"?

09/17/09 01:49 PM #5    

Chuck Sullivan, III

As I sit here reflecting, the tears are rolling down my face. You see, the entire Taylor family lived right next door to me. We knew each other from the age of 7. I can tell you, there was'nt a blade of grass between our two houses. Never mind, we made holes in every neighbors boxwood shrubs for a shortcut. When I think of Doug (and Tom, Jim, Susie and Joe), I think of the movie Sandlot. Mr. Taylor(Leon), Doug's father, was a great man and his kids are all great inspirations. I can still chuckle when I recall that Doug found out there was no Santa Claus, BUT, he still made a persuasive arguement for the Easter bunny. It is such a tragic loss that Doug has passed on, but it is , that we all will. Share the moments with your kids, your grandkids, for none of know our day. Be close to you family and friends. Reconcile differences. Doug , we'll miss you, you were a great person. Give your Dad a hug, he helped me a lot. your buddy, chuck

09/30/09 04:52 PM #6    

Christine Park

I knew Doug from being in the band with him. You couldn't help but smile and feel great about the world when he came into the room. Speaking with him always left me feeling uplifted because he had such a great sense of humor. I am so sorry to read that he passed away.

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