Remembering My Dad

Today is my Dad’s birthday. He was born 114 years ago. He was the second of twin sons born that day. His brother was accidentally killed when he was only 20 years old. My Dad lived to be 82. He never talked about his twin brother, and I always thought it was because it was too painful for him. What I learned about my uncle, I learned from my mother. In early years the two of them looked a lot alike in a picture we have; but where Uncle Alfred’s hair was straight, Dad’s hair was curly. In pictures of them as they grew older, to me they looked quite a bit different. Though if I could have seen them together, I would probably have seen resemblances between them. Resemblances and identical are not the same, but we all see things differently. For instance, when I was a young woman, I was in the small town where my sister lived. I went in a store where she had been shortly before. The clerk said to me, “You back already? You just left? My sister was a few years older than I, slightly taller, and at that time at least 20-25 pounds heavier than I was. Her hair was darker and styled differently. I admit that we resembled each other, but I’m not quite sure how the clerk could have seen the same person.


The twin brothers apparently were unlike in personality also. Dad was always talking, laughing, joking, picking and teasing [ometimes maybe too much so]. Uncle Alfred was quiet and serious, maybe even somber. In one or two of his pictures, he seems even a bit morose. One of his cousins that I met after I began researching family history told me how much Dad teased the girl cousins when the families visited when they were young. She said his twin was very quiet. Dad always told us that “Pa” was mostly Scots-Irish and “Ma” was German. However, as I found out, his mother was only half-German on her mother’s side; not sure about her dad nationality. So, they were, as I’ve heard it said, “mostly Scots-Irish.” It seems Dad got the ‘jolly Irish’ part and Uncle Alfred to the ‘dour Scots.’

In a school group picture we have when they are about 10/11 years old, they are not standing together. Dad is on the back left corner, and Uncle Alfred is on the back right corner, with their youngest brother in front of him.

Dad was full of mischief apparently, and my other grandmother was said to have referred to him  as "that curly-black-headed little deveil" when he was about 12 or so and incurred her wrath for some reason when they all lived near by each other.

It has occurred to me that the two boys being so different in personality, they might not have got along as well as one might think twins would. What I’ve learned is that someone who likes to pick and tease can’t abide seeing someone going quietly about, minding their own business. They have to shake things up a bit and get something going. With his picking, teasing ways, Dad might have done his share to make Uncle Alfred’s life uncomfortable. And I strongly suspect, Uncle Alfred didn’t know how to handle his more rowdy twin.

None the less, my Dad was a good man and a very good father. I’m glad he was mine.

Before Television - Before Video Games

What did kids do to amuse themselves and have fun before the advent of television? And before video games? They did what people do: They made do with what was available and used their heads to think of other things to do. Movies were available, when we were allowed to go. Television was in its early beginning stages when I was a child. But it was just a blip on the radar screen, and few people had even heard of it yet. It didn’t come into prominence until after World War II.

In warm weather we spent most of any free time we had playing outdoors during long summer days. Some of the games we played were marbles, hop scotch, mumblety peg, tag, annie over, or some kind of ball game if there were enough kids to play. And generally just talking, yelling and running around.

Indoors: Evenings after supper, we read, played games and listened to the radio. In 1933 we moved from a small town out into the country. There was no electricity in most rural areas until after World War II, but we had a battery powered radio to keep an ear on the world. Programs we listened to were: Sgt Preston of the Yukon [may not be the exact name], Jack Armstrong - All American Boy, Gang Busters, Dick Tracy, The Lux Theater, Amos and Andy, Lum and Abner, Fibber Magee and Molly, The Shadow. There may be others that I haven’t thought of.

Most of these were 30 minute shows; one or two might have been 15 minutes, not sure. I think Sgt Preston and Jack Armstrong were daily shows along about the time we had our evening meal. They may have been 15 minutes. The other shows were weekly. We didn’t sit grouped around the radio to listen, but often engaged in other activities, such as children’s card games, or checkers while we listened to the fascinating tales of adventure. Ooops! How could I forget dominoes!

During the day, my mother kept up with a few to a few daily soap operas as she did her household tasks. Those that I remember were: Ma Perkins, Our Gal Sunday and Helen Trent.

In the winter when much more time was spent indoors, there was usually a jigsaw puzzle in various stages of completion. When a puzzle was finished, another was set up. Everybody wanted to put in the last piece, and when the puzzle was near completion, almost everyone had a hold out puzzle piece in his/her pocket. More later.

World War II - From My Perspective

What was it like in World War II from my perspective? I’m not sure of what I can tell you. So, let’s break into the memory bank and see what we find.

My husband and I were married in 1942, not quite a year after the beginning of World War II. He left for the Army one day less than two months later. We knew this was likely to happen at some point. We were just surprised that it hadn’t occurred earlier. Oddly enough, Melvin had tried to enlist about a year before, in the Navy; but was rejected because of flat feet. When he was drafted some time later, he was assigned to the infantry and walked his way across Europe. Shipboard required better feet than the infantry?

We were married three years before we spent an anniversary or holiday together. In those days, after a soldier was sent to overseas, there was no stipulated time limit before being furloughed home. Once you were in the war theater, you were there for the duration. The men did get a three day pass from time to time, depending on circumstances. And the occasional furlough, to designated places in the general area, then a return to active duty. In later wars, apparently a rotation system was thought to work better.

Melvin was in the States longer than some men were, before getting their assignment to overseas duty, though we were separated for all but six months of that time. He was in a replacement training unit, and some men were sent ‘over’ to replace men who had individually lost their war, while others remained to help train new men coming in. Out of a special buddy unit of three, one of Melvin’s closest friends was sent to Europe for the D-Day invasion. In the all for one and one for all spirit, the other two put up a fuss They wanted to go with Hank. Needless to say, what was was; nobody paid any attention to what left-behind buddies wanted.

Perhaps it was because the top brass knew it was then time for an all out push, but just a few weeks later, the entire division followed Hank to Europe. Melvin and Woody remained in the same unit: Woody was the COs driver and Melvin was a machine gunner. The life-expectancy of a machine gunner was not great. The way I handled that was that I simply did not accept the fact that Melvin might not return. My faith in his return was apparently greater than his. I think when he left, he never expected to return. Fortunately, he did.

That did not mean that I was not concerned, or that I did not say countless prayers, but I did not ask myself, What if he doesn’t return? Or What will I do if he is killed? I did not allow myself to think those thoughts. I concentrated on when the war is over, and when he comes home. However, there was a brief period just before the end of 1944, when things were not going well, when I almost faltered for a moment. It was something like starting to fall, but somehow you regain your balance and right yourself before hitting the floor.

That’s all for now. Perhaps more later.