Monday, June 6, 2011
Those brave troops who warned, uh, the … German’s that they weren’t gonna be takin’ away our arms, uh, by ringin’ those bells and, um, by makin’ sure that as their riding their tanks through town to send those warnin’ shots and bells that, uh, we were gonna be secure and we were gonna be free … and we were gonna be armed
To my Uncle Walt, who came in on D-day plus 3, and fought his way to Germany. To my Uncle Frank, who was in the first wave at Tarawa. To my Uncle Joe who flew the hump, survived the war, and died in ‘46 trying to land a C-10 in Alaska. To my Uncle Tony and Aunt Betty who survived a fire at the Joliet Armory Plant (43? 44?). To my Uncle Alex, who was actually a true war hero. Was a SEAL before there were SEALS. And got wrote up in a book. (OK OK, it was a 1960’s book for teenager’s, still, he was in a book.)(beat THAT MF’ers)
And most of all, to my father, who flew I don’t know how many combat missions over Japan, almost getting shot down several times (“DUMP IT IN TOKYO BAY???? F*CK YOU!”) (Nobody wrote books about that.)(Well, maybe one or 2)
Then went to Korea and did it all over again… This time with a wife AND a new born baby left behind. (nobody wrote books about that either)
When my father got called up for Korea, he said, “Honey, maybe we should wait to get married?” To which my mother said, “FUCK YOU! It is now or NEVER.”(My mother, very much the southern belle, also told her very Southern Baptist mother, “I am marrying this Polack from the south side of Chicago whether you like it or not!” (Grandma caved)
Truth: When my mothers father died, my mother was unable to come to his funeral. Why? Because she was 8 1/2 months pregnant for the 8th time with his 12th grand child… and my grandmother (RIP) had not told ANYBODY her daughter was pregnant….
I still remember the looks of people who were observing my father with his 5 children and no wife.
I miss my Mother. Sometimes I miss my Father more. Flip a coin.
You come from good stock, man.
No kidding wow
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