Today would have been my father's 94th birthday...he was born the 4th child to Irish immigrant parents at the start of the 20th century. He was raised with his two brothers and a sister in a rough neighborhood in Hoboken, New Jersey. He left school at 16 and went to work for the railroad, loading freight. Hoboken's most famous son, Frank Sinatra, had an equally humble beginning. The street my father grew up on no longer exists, as Hoboken has been transformed from a blue collar, lower class town to a gentrified suburb of Manhattan's Financial District.
My father met and married my mother as the war escalated in Europe and the Pacific. He and his brothers joined the Navy and prepared to serve their country in World War II. He would receive his orders while on his honeymoon in January in Niagara Falls, NY. He shipped out in early 1942 leaving my mom, pregnant with my older sister, to hold down the fort at home as so many women did in those dark years. My dad didn't "meet" his baby girl until she was nearly three. I have a letter or two that my dad wrote to my mom while he was overseas. I had never seen them until after both my mom and dad had died, but what an insight into the strength of character of those of "The Greatest Generation" - as Tom Brokaw accurately named them.
Returning from the war, my parents took advantage of the GI bill, bought a house in the suburbs and settled in to living the American Dream...but times were sometimes hard, money was tight...raising two children could be expensive. My dad drove a truck until his retirement and my mom worked in a department store. They both wished for more, but I think, were contented with what they had...a home, a job, a car, good health, children. By the expectations of my generation, they lived a humble life but perhaps enjoyed it more than my contemporaries who are constantly looking for something more.
Perhaps his generation really did know more about the things that make life rich...perhaps we can stop long enough to breathe in some of that wisdom, before it is forever lost.
My father met and married my mother as the war escalated in Europe and the Pacific. He and his brothers joined the Navy and prepared to serve their country in World War II. He would receive his orders while on his honeymoon in January in Niagara Falls, NY. He shipped out in early 1942 leaving my mom, pregnant with my older sister, to hold down the fort at home as so many women did in those dark years. My dad didn't "meet" his baby girl until she was nearly three. I have a letter or two that my dad wrote to my mom while he was overseas. I had never seen them until after both my mom and dad had died, but what an insight into the strength of character of those of "The Greatest Generation" - as Tom Brokaw accurately named them.
Returning from the war, my parents took advantage of the GI bill, bought a house in the suburbs and settled in to living the American Dream...but times were sometimes hard, money was tight...raising two children could be expensive. My dad drove a truck until his retirement and my mom worked in a department store. They both wished for more, but I think, were contented with what they had...a home, a job, a car, good health, children. By the expectations of my generation, they lived a humble life but perhaps enjoyed it more than my contemporaries who are constantly looking for something more.
Perhaps his generation really did know more about the things that make life rich...perhaps we can stop long enough to breathe in some of that wisdom, before it is forever lost.
