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At 14 his dad died. He was only two weeks into his high school education. He felt compelled to quit and get a job to earn money to feed his brother and sisters and mother.  Times were tough. I never knew the man to complain.  He was my dad. I called him Pop.

He worked all his life. He lived and worked through the Great Depression, earning a living for his family.

Pearl Harbor. All the young men and not so young went down to enlist. Pop went to enlist for the Navy. He liked beans. He thought they ate Navy beans.  They told him … you are too old Pops … go home. He went home.  A few weeks later he was drafted into the Army. He was in his mid 30’s. Because of his age he was rapidly promoted to Sergeant. Then to Platoon Sergeant. He was a member of the 41st Infantry Division. He was a machine gunner. He fought in New Guinea and the Philippines. He did not consider himself a hero and only told the funny stories.

But sometimes late at night he smoked cigarettes in the dark, and thought.  Now and then he was around someone he served with and the stories were quiet and away from the kid.

There was a part of him I would never touch.

But it didn’t matter. He was my dad and we did things together.

He aged by the time the war was over. He was harder and tougher. Pop was not a career soldier. He was the typical citizen soldier. He was there when his country needed him. He survived. He was glad to get out after the war was over. There are so many Americans like him.

He was my inspiration, and Ram feels his presence too. I am not and will never be half the man he was.

Thanks Pop

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 12th, 2006 at 10:37 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.