Memories Of The Greatest Generation And WWII

I was born on a Saturday evening in May in the late 30's in a small town in ND because they just happened to have a hospital there and a caesarian birth was required.

My parents lived in a neighboring town about twenty miles away where dad worked in the creamery for uncle Ole, picking up cream from the farmers in the area and making butter. Mom took care of my big sister and me and she played the organ in church.

I don’t remember much about those formative years but I do remember an elderly couple that lived next door and even now, when in the area I have an urge to stop and visit before I realize that that was seventy plus years ago. And I remember that Nancy Bates lived across the street. I remember the bigger kids playing softball. But the one thing that really sticks in my mind is hearing FDR’s speech on the radio, December 8, 1941, the day after Pearl Harbor. I remember my dad getting his draft notice in the mail on a Sunday morning. Yes, in those days we got mail on Sunday.

When dad went off to war, mom, my sister, and I went to live with gramma and grampa in yet another small ND town where grampa was a cream buyer and beer drinker extraordinary. That’s where I started first grade; we didn’t have kindergarten or preschool. I never did know if that was because it didn’t exist or we were just too poor. We moved later that same year to Fargo, ND where I continued the first grade. One thing that I remember was that the school had two entrances and they were both identical both inside and out. When you are accustomed to small town ND, Fargo is a really big place. One day I went out the wrong door to walk home from school and I just continued walking the wrong direction looking for my street. I never did find it but eventually I must have been reported missing and got my first ride in a police car.

The next school year we moved again. I had an aunt that lived in St Louis Park, MN, a suburb of Minneapolis. At the time she had one son and was divorced. She had a nice little house and a job but child care was a problem. The three of us moved from big town ND to bigger town MN and the child care problem was solved and we had more room than at gramma and grampas’.

In St Louis Park my sister and I and my cousin were able to go to the matinee on Saturday afternoons. They ran serials back then and every Saturday was a continuation of the Saturday before. There was Superman and Tom Mix, but the highlight was “News Of The Day” which always had war news and pictures of the troops. I couldn’t miss “News Of The Day” because I just knew when pictures of the troops showed on the screen I would see my dad. Alas, it never happened. In the big city we had mail delivery right to the door. I remember that the mailman would put the mail in the box and go along his route, unless there was a letter from dad. Then he would ring the doorbell and mom would literally run to the door.

I remember one evening after dark in February, 1946 when we saw a cab pull up to the house. When my sister alerted me I recall looking out the window and seeing this big fella get out of the cab and he had a big bag over his shoulder and I was thinking it had to be Santa Clause with that big bag, but Christmas was already past. Dad was home from the war. The big bag was his duffel. I’ll never forget that day.

We returned to small town ND and had life filled with loving memories.

I had several uncles that also served in that war. They’re all gone now. Dad, mom, my aunt. They were truly “The Greatest Generation”.