Down memory lane, slowly...
around my Dad's room for things that need to be tended to; perhaps some paperwork on his bureau that was overlooked or for some keepsake we've missed seeing. I must have learned it from him, keeping lot's of valuble "junk" in the top draw of my bureau, for there was a treasure trove of memories in his.
There were things he had carried, like old credit cards, old wallets, old coins and pocket knives; lots of pocket knives, many almost antiques. I took several to remind me of him. There were things he had saved from long ago; a Shell Company ceramic ashtray from the 1950's, a box of $2 bills and old coins with the appraised values written down, from what year I haven't a clue. There were things he had worn; old boy scout patches from his days as a leader in the 1960's, old skinny bowties, the kind I remember men wearing with short sleeved shirts in the early '60s and tuxedo accessories. I don't think I ever saw him in a tux, but I know he had one. There were written notes, letters and memories; the date that his sister died written on a scrap of paper, old letters from our attorney in St. Louis concerning our farm, a letter from his favorite cousin, a fairly recent birthday card from me addressed to "The World's Greatest Dad"....and a NY Time Sports section front page from October of 1939. I showed this to my Mom. She had no idea of the significance of this, nor do I. I'll wonder about this for a long time.
There were tributes to him I had never seen; a bronzed medallion given in honor of his boy scout service, a letter from Congressman Henry B. Gonzalez of San Antonio personally thanking him for his diligence while working for the FDIC later in his life....and there was the certificate shown above.
My Dad, like many of his generation, talked little of his WWII service for most of his life. Only in the last 7 or 8 years did he let us know in some detail of his experiences. He had been a sergeant, but as an almost college graduate he had been offered the chance to be an officer, but turned it down. He hated the army, he hated the war, and he hated the three years that he'd been gone. His best buddy in the army had been killed the very first day that they landed in Italy, but late in life as he talked I knew that he was very, very proud to have been a part of it all. He even went to one reunion of his old division, the famed 45th, from which he came back with a new sense of his contribution...and had an excellent time. The certificate is from the National D-Day Museum in New Orleans, signifying that he had made a contribution to it's construction and that a brick with his name lies there. If you're ever there, look for Sgt. Wally Craig. He earned his brick.
My Mom and I have also been looking through my Dad's wardrobe closet. I have to laugh everytime we do; Carol keeps saying, "try this on, maybe it will fit you". My Dad ended up being a size "Small", I'm a Large or X-Large. I have, however, taken some things including the last pair of shoes my Dad ever bought. Strangely, very modern style loafers in size 10½. He wore size 10, I wear 10½. They fit me perfectly and are the most comfortable shoes I now own. I wear them all the time and it is not lost on me that now I can truly say that I'm able to walk in my Dad's shoes. I think of him every time I put them on.....they're big shoes to fill.
 | I try and go by to see my Mom every day now that my Dad has left us, I'm not perfect about it, but I try. I usually stay for a half hour or so to make sure she's doing ok and to see if anything needs to be done around the house. She's doing ok and since she has lots of help, things are usually running smoothly now. Many times we just talk and let Daphne run wild in the backyard, but recently we've been looking |
There were things he had carried, like old credit cards, old wallets, old coins and pocket knives; lots of pocket knives, many almost antiques. I took several to remind me of him. There were things he had saved from long ago; a Shell Company ceramic ashtray from the 1950's, a box of $2 bills and old coins with the appraised values written down, from what year I haven't a clue. There were things he had worn; old boy scout patches from his days as a leader in the 1960's, old skinny bowties, the kind I remember men wearing with short sleeved shirts in the early '60s and tuxedo accessories. I don't think I ever saw him in a tux, but I know he had one. There were written notes, letters and memories; the date that his sister died written on a scrap of paper, old letters from our attorney in St. Louis concerning our farm, a letter from his favorite cousin, a fairly recent birthday card from me addressed to "The World's Greatest Dad"....and a NY Time Sports section front page from October of 1939. I showed this to my Mom. She had no idea of the significance of this, nor do I. I'll wonder about this for a long time.
There were tributes to him I had never seen; a bronzed medallion given in honor of his boy scout service, a letter from Congressman Henry B. Gonzalez of San Antonio personally thanking him for his diligence while working for the FDIC later in his life....and there was the certificate shown above.
My Dad, like many of his generation, talked little of his WWII service for most of his life. Only in the last 7 or 8 years did he let us know in some detail of his experiences. He had been a sergeant, but as an almost college graduate he had been offered the chance to be an officer, but turned it down. He hated the army, he hated the war, and he hated the three years that he'd been gone. His best buddy in the army had been killed the very first day that they landed in Italy, but late in life as he talked I knew that he was very, very proud to have been a part of it all. He even went to one reunion of his old division, the famed 45th, from which he came back with a new sense of his contribution...and had an excellent time. The certificate is from the National D-Day Museum in New Orleans, signifying that he had made a contribution to it's construction and that a brick with his name lies there. If you're ever there, look for Sgt. Wally Craig. He earned his brick.
My Mom and I have also been looking through my Dad's wardrobe closet. I have to laugh everytime we do; Carol keeps saying, "try this on, maybe it will fit you". My Dad ended up being a size "Small", I'm a Large or X-Large. I have, however, taken some things including the last pair of shoes my Dad ever bought. Strangely, very modern style loafers in size 10½. He wore size 10, I wear 10½. They fit me perfectly and are the most comfortable shoes I now own. I wear them all the time and it is not lost on me that now I can truly say that I'm able to walk in my Dad's shoes. I think of him every time I put them on.....they're big shoes to fill.
