Yesterday, Aug. 9th, was my Dad's 87th birthday. My Dad was born in Duluth, Minnesota, way back in 1921. Both his parents died before he was ten years old and was raised by an aunt and uncle.
My dad worked as a cook on an iron ore ship that ran from Duluth, Minnesota to Buffalo, New York before the war. He told me he was in port in Buffalo on Dec. 7th, 1941 when he heard the news of the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
My Dad enlisted in the army and was sent to Europe to fight the Nazis. He was a linesman. He was assigned to a jeep with three other soldiers and their job was to continuously check the phone lines from the front to headquarters for breaks in the lines. He doesn't talk about the bad times of the war but is always quick to reminisce about the hot times in Paris after the war ended. (No specifics though) He was on a ship home to be retrained to fight the war in the Pacific when the war ended.
My Dad came home and studied to be a teacher on the GI Bill. He went to school at the University of Minnesota Duluth and drove a public transit trolley at night. Somehow he found time to marry my mom, who was a young lady who grew up in his neighborhood. By the time he finished school, he had two small children and a third on the way.
My Dad was a high school teacher and ran the school newspaper and edited the year book. We were a family of seven when we moved out to California in 1962. He taught several more years in So.Cal. before retiring from emotional stress.
Today my Dad lives in Bellingham, Washington in an assisted living residence. My baby sister Kathy lives in the same town and keeps an eagle eye on him. I had an opportunity to sit and talk with him for about 3.5 hours on Friday and he is as alert as ever and still as opinionated. He still gets out and walks 3-4 blocks with his walker, pretty good for an old guy after two triple bypasses!!
So Happy Birthday Dad. I love ya dearly!!!
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