Boy, have I seen lots of wonderful pictures of my past. I am still looking for the 7th grade class picture. I had taken it to Mondamin so I could prove to one of my classmates that what she thought was a 7th grade picture was really the 6th. We always go to the cafe after church in that dinky little town and talk about everything, past and present. Then I came home with it and I remember thinking, I am going to put it in a safe place........ I do wish I would stop doing that. It is not the only thing in a "safe" place.
Consequently, I have been living in those days a lot. I was a goofy little kid, I know. When I was 10 and in the 5th grade, before I thought about being FOB, I wanted to be in the French Underground. They were so brave and fearless. (I have no idea what happened along the way. I no longer have that fierce desire to be French.) We were very patriotic. All of us. Adults and kids. And it was the summer after Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941. My cousin, Roy Robinson, was on Wake Island and he was a Marine. My brother Bill either was or about to become a Marine. All the kids in town were for the branch of service that their relatives were in. Contests were set up to collect scrap iron. A record of the pounds were given to whatever branch of service so we all wanted our service to be the winner. Our town was never so cleaned up. I remember having a wrestling match with Billy Sublet because he wanted to make me say the United States Navy was better than the United States Marines. I am pretty sure I didn't. That part is blurry in my memory. I saw Bill at our school reunion last summer and he was glad to see me too. Good times.
By the way, my cousin Roy survived. He was on Wake when it fell and he spent the duration of the war in a Japanese prison camp but he came home. My brothers, Bill and Keith, both on Okinawa at the same time but in different divisions, came home too. We are forever grateful to Harry Truman for that.
Consequently, I have been living in those days a lot. I was a goofy little kid, I know. When I was 10 and in the 5th grade, before I thought about being FOB, I wanted to be in the French Underground. They were so brave and fearless. (I have no idea what happened along the way. I no longer have that fierce desire to be French.) We were very patriotic. All of us. Adults and kids. And it was the summer after Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941. My cousin, Roy Robinson, was on Wake Island and he was a Marine. My brother Bill either was or about to become a Marine. All the kids in town were for the branch of service that their relatives were in. Contests were set up to collect scrap iron. A record of the pounds were given to whatever branch of service so we all wanted our service to be the winner. Our town was never so cleaned up. I remember having a wrestling match with Billy Sublet because he wanted to make me say the United States Navy was better than the United States Marines. I am pretty sure I didn't. That part is blurry in my memory. I saw Bill at our school reunion last summer and he was glad to see me too. Good times.
By the way, my cousin Roy survived. He was on Wake when it fell and he spent the duration of the war in a Japanese prison camp but he came home. My brothers, Bill and Keith, both on Okinawa at the same time but in different divisions, came home too. We are forever grateful to Harry Truman for that.
