No, I have not suddenly become politically correct. But since in my view of the world a bunch of my favorite days occur in this time the title would have had to be insanely long to cover them all, and so the diminutive salutation welcomes you to these thoughts.
So: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all!
Disclaimer: I may not acknowledge all holidays in the way or for the same reasons that they were created. Perhaps like most people, the special feeling about a given holiday is different than the original or commonly accepted reasoning. And that is OK. So please do not chastise me for not having the same interpretation as you do, nor for not trying to find some way to cast a gloomy miasma around these special days. Just as I try not to overthink every little situation, which in the past has resulted in a ridiculous number of "worst case" fears instead of "most likely" expectations, it is best to see the good and accept that in a given holiday as well as whatever bad there may be.
It starts with Columbus Day, kind of a prelude to the main event if you will. Now I have never considered Columbus Day a great holiday. I know that he was in many ways not a nice man, perhaps even in his own day he may have been thought of as doing wrong in some ways. On the other hand he did have some admirable qualities, including bravery and persistence, that are undeniable and that many who criticize Columbus would be better off to emulate. But it is not about the name of the day that I have always liked it. No, rather it is because it was a day off! Throughout my Air Force career I worked hard. At my first assignment in Mt Home the first few months were easy, but when things kicked off I put in a lot of 10 to 12 hour days and 16 hour efforts and weekends were not uncommon. While no assignment after had me putting in quite this much time, and I was never called on to deploy to the wars, I did feel that the job needed to come first unless there was a family emergency, to the point where most years I sacrificed several days of leave. So having a day when the office was not even open was a great time to spend with family. And since I retired I actually have even less time off as the government has made it impossible to be comfortable taking much time off with their drive to lower contract prices at the expense of the employees. Columbus Day marked the "almost end" of the post-summer "push hard" period, and reaching it meant that in another month or two the holiday season (starting with the non-holiday holiday Halloween, than Veterans Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years) was nearly there. Especially after Sharon and I married, and even more so after Kristi and Chip were born, this meant giving some good times back to those who brought and still bring me such great joy.
As hinted at above, the "real" holiday season, according to Greg, starts with Halloween, which is a favorite both because I had fun with it as a kid and after the dreaded growing up occurred. And yes it is not a real holiday, but it is so much fun that it counts as one. The fun was "everything" that we used to do for the big night. Preparing costumes, putting thin cloth over lights to darken the mood, carving pumpkins. Over the years I have had costumes ranging from a red coat when we lived in Wernau (a German town and they did not celebrate Halloween but we visited friends at Ramstein without a costume so the zipped up coat was the best I could do), to the very elaborate Black Blob that I made myself. The Black Blob was created after I had an inspiration while at my first Air Force assignment to cover 100% of me and "hover" without saying a word. It included a cape, and a lot of loose cloth to give the impression of a flowing, non-solid, shape. The eyes were covered with a gauze-like cloth. The impact was tremendous at the Officer Club party, where people tried to get me to talk, to make contact with me by exchanging looks, but could accomplish neither. Interestingly, some became a bit nervous, while some became a little more friendly. That costume, in whole or in parts, served for many years, including taking the kids out in the neighborhood through all the fun years of their growing into humans in our first Virginia neighborhood. The Blob would hover just beyond the comforting circles of light from yard lights while the kids and Sharon went to get the loot and say hi. Many home owners would make some comment on the nice costumes, and than be startled as their eyes told them there was Something Else in their yard. When walking house to house on the unlit cull de sac other families would realize that the kids and Sharon where not alone and sometimes react with startled expressions or responses. Quite fun. One of my favorite pictures features a completely at peace Kristi on her first Halloween being held by the Black Blob. Sharon and I were a bit worried that she might be afraid when first seeing said Blob, but she was never a bit afraid. I always felt it was a fun time for all who wanted to put on a costume and go outside to show their "real-hidden self" and thought that the kids liked it too. Unfortunately it turns out that one former child apparently did not like it and somehow learning that saddens me much more than it should have, but I guess not everyone likes the same things. Unfortunately, in the last few years my ability to spare the time and energy for these pursuits has gone as work takes up more time and my physical condition has worsened, so now I stay at home handing out candy without even carving the great pumpkins that used to be my hallmark; great since I have a skill at carving squash and would find misshapen ones and use the shape in the creation. Happily, Kristi and Sharon keep the spirit alive, with Chip having helped some before his studies and then job interrupted. The dogs, Bella the English Mastiff and Bebe the Mini Poodle both greet the ringing of the doorbell with their customary alarm barking, and sometimes Bella is outside, her massive presence perhaps adding a bit of excitement to trick-or-treaters and their parents alike.Such is what time does over time, and little do we suspect that this will happen when we are young.
Of course after Halloween Veteran's Day is only 11 days away. Commemorating the peace that settled over the battlefields of World War I on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918, and the millions who died fighting the "War to end all Wars" when what had been the costliest war in man's history was brought to a conclusion, the weary peoples failed to see that by trying to punish the losing powers that they were sealing the doom of the next generation to fight an even more horrendous war twenty years later. So the holiday is not one of joy, but rather somber reflection. But it is also time to spend with the family since it is a "real holiday", which as noted above is a good thing.
Next in line is Thanksgiving. A celebration of the Europeans coming to America, though many of the "everything the Europeans have done is evil" crowd do not like this special day either, I like it in part for the fact that as with pretty much everyone else in the US that we are much better off than if the European invasion had not occurred. Think about it. Would the Native Americans ever have reached the accomplishments that we have if they had remained the dominant culture? And yes, their people often do not share in the benefits of the modern America. But I think much of that is by choice. Since they choose to stay out of the mainstream life they choose to not benefit from it. And that is their right, although expecting to have both the benefits and to stay off the path that earns those benefits is illogical. Of course the USA has not always done good, and we should note that in order to learn from those evils and not do their like again, but overall for the most part we have been a force for good. Enough of this; simply note that I am most thankful that my Dad chose to raise us as Americans, not Native Americans. For me, Thanksgiving has meant a chance to take a few moments to be thankful for the Blessings that we have good lives, and for having a wonderful family. That and to enjoy the good food of course. Grandma of the House, Sharon's Mom, always used to make some of the food, and was a special part of our household. This year I missed her, looking over to "her" table where she chose to eat and Sharon and, if we had more than the household over, a few of the other people would join her, and feeling sadness that she was no longer with us in this life. The gathering of family and sometimes friends made this day special as well, though in recent years my declining ability to not get aggravated at little disruptions have kept me from wanting to bring in anyone who is not immediate family; perhaps I can recapture the old feelings of actually liking to be around people some day and can get this back. I hope so. Being me right now is not as fun as it used to be.
After a few weeks, where in most years work slows a bit and there are many festive get-togethers, is Christmas. Merry Christmas. Let me preface by saying that I did not grow up with a lot of religious input. I believe that my parents believed in God, and were Christians, but they were not overly religious. Thus they took the route that it is in belief and faith that we find salvation, rather than in displays of faith. And that is the way I believe as well. Perhaps a later post on religion will bring this into full focus, but for now I will say that I have enough personal and reported experiences which allow me to believe, and leave it there. So yes, Christmas has a religious overtone for me, and was never allowed to be all about presents and the secular aspects. My Dad's favorite Christmas music was Silent Night, and in this day I tend to be drawn most to the old favorites from times of faith that we are missing in this modern but not in all ways better time.
Of course a huge part of the Christmas spirit is the kid's whole Santa Clause and the presents experience. Much like Halloween, where some of my fondest memories go back to Kristi and Chip having, or appearing to have, a great time, many of my fondest Christmas memories revolve around their happiness and excitement as well. We took the kids to see Santa, and I even played Santa once at Kristi's skating rink when they were a bit older. For many years we really did a lot for Christmas, including making ornaments, setting up really nice trees, exterior and interior lights. The kids helped as they grew enough to not destroy ornaments, and now much of what we do is their work. We also had and have our family traditions, which I treasure. For example, the rule was that they could not open presents until Mom and Dad were awake. That way we did not miss the fun of watching them hopefully enjoy their gifts. Grandma always participated as well, sometimes joining us in the living room, sometimes sitting in her favorite chair in the kitchen nook, and whoever was handing out presents so each can be unwrapped while all give the recipient some attention would take hers to her. Good times with the family.
New Years closes the season down. Long ago I gave up drinking to much, and in the last few years neither Sharon nor I try to stay up late, but another day off is good, and it is fun to see some of the celebrations. Part of that fun is watching a lot of people go to extreme lengths supposedly to have fun but not looking like they will remember anything the next day. Schadenfreude is the German word that adequately describes this. New Years is also a time to try and reset our paths, to make a new start in doing things that we know we let slip in the last year. Not that that happens much, but I do think that I have been able to do this to some extent over the years. Perhaps in a few days I will have a success again?
The holidays in January and February are only noted as time off, because right after New Year the work ramps back up and stress follows that as the hitched wagon follows the horse. Still, days off are days off and the time spent at home is greatly valued.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Family History - Germany the First years
Dad had gone ahead of us since duty called, and somehow Mom took Sis and I to, I think, New York to catch a flight to Germany. Those were the days of flying when overall safety might not have been as good as it is now due to older technology, but overall comfort was much better. The cabin crew, otherwise known at the time as "stewardess" were nice and very attentive, provided Sis and me with small toys such as coloring books and talked with Mom and us as well as attending to the other passengers' comfort. I have a vague memory, fueled by Mom's telling the story, that at first I did not want the shrimp cocktail that they offered but after tasting Mom's I wanted all I could get. This continues to today.
I remember looking out and seeing how far away the ocean was. I think I slept for a while. Eventually we got to Frankfurt, or perhaps Rhein Main, and there was Dad and an official car to drive us to Ramstein. We were happy to see him, and I can't help but think that even at the tender age of 3 or 4 I must have looked at the German towns and countryside as we drove through it and wondered about this new to me but very old country. To this day, driving around in Germany leaves me with a sense of well-managed age, with the background sounds a bit different, the cool dampness of the land offering a lift to the spirit, and, at least for small construction, the far better German construction codes giving their buildings a sense of permanence that ours will never have. One thing that I do not remember and never asked my Mom was how she felt going back to what had been her second homeland; getting off the plane must have brought up a few concerns and perhaps some memories of a past that had ended only a few years before.
At first we lived in the small town of Ramstein, but I do not recall how long that was nor much about it. There was a gate to our driveway, and nice people around, but that is as far as my memory allows me to travel. Later, we settled into our quarters at Ramstein Air Base. The housing area was, and may still be, apartment buildings of about six units wide by about four units high with basement storage. They were painted in colors that were not quite weak enough to qualify as pastels, and were basically shaped like shoe boxes. There was a playground in the square formed by every four buildings, with sandboxes, swings, and other basic playground equipment. Life for us kids was good. Get up, play, go back home to a loving mother who took excellent care of us and taught us good manners and how to behave. Wait for Dad to come home. We had friends, and I can remember a group of us deciding we wanted to dig all the way to China and spent several days in one sandbox with that fun but futile pursuit. Dad went to work every day, he was an Intelligence Officer and had an office in The Cave. The dependents were allowed to visit the offices once (I only remember once but it could have been once a year). I remember the excitement of going into the area, how good it felt when I saw him, and how fun it was to see where Daddy worked. He showed us his desk, and I noticed the maps and other items that had heavy covers on them. Of course I asked what those where and why they were covered, and he said maps and other things that were secret and so could not be seen.
One of the times that Dad had an exercise he called Mom, and a few moments later Sis and I were being dressed in "nice" clothes and being told in no uncertain terms that Dad was bringing a guest home for dinner and we were to be on our best behavior. Dad arrived, and asked our guest to enter before he did. The man, who was tall and dignified was not that old, and dressed in a German uniform. He entered with a strong stride, and Mom greeted him in German and curtsied. I had never seen anyone do that before. I had no idea that my Mom even knew how to do that. But there was no time to stare, because the guest shook my, and Sis' hands and than it was off to dinner. I do not remember what we had, but I do remember the grown ups talking back and forth with interest and great depth. The conversation continued after dinner until our guest left, with handshakes and good cheer. It was only later, after I had learned some history, that I remembered what my Dad told me about our guest. He said "If there was still a Holy roman Empire, that man would be the Emperor." So I am thinking that he was either von Hapsburg or von Hohenzollern, and truly a nice person from the little time I knew him.
As one would expect, life went on, and not always in a good way for some in our little community. One day Dad came home and told us that one of our neighbors, who's kids we played with, had been killed in an aircraft accident. I asked why he just did not jump out with the parachute, and I was a bit surprised when he said that the plane did not have them, so it might have been a cargo aircraft. Also, one of the base generals was killed when his parachute failed on a training jump, and of course that was a time of sadness too. But overall, those years were pleasant for the Marshall family.
Incidents that stay in mind, despite the years: During our time there they opened a new officer's club on base, and we would have a meal there once in a while. There was a Chinese food restaurant in the basement, and I was surprised that the waiters spoke such good German since Mom talked to them in Deutsch. Mom took us to see movies at the Base Theater a few times, and we saw one movie featuring the hero getting trapped in a room that filled with water. Mom took Sis and me out of there during that scene, answering that we were to young to see stuff like that when we complained, but I think that her fear of being in confined spaces, that started during the war when she was trapped in a building that was bombed, must have kicked in big-time in that scene. Years later I saw the movie on TV, and thought back to a time when life was simpler but in some ways darker. I spent some time at various friends' apartments, and once in a while saw TV, which was something we did not have. The only show I actually remember was when the Beatles came to America and were featured guests on - I think - the Ed Sullivan show. The crowd went crazy, and an era was born. For some days later a bunch of us tried to sing Beatle songs, but my parents, who were great fans of classical music, told me to stop with the noise. I had the first nightmare that I can still vividly recall while there ... of going into the base chapel and looking into a coffin that was on a dais, then falling in. It was no ordinary coffin, because I went straight through the bottom and fell endlessly, past fierce demon heads that snapped at me as I fell, and snakes, and garish colors and things I know not what.
Dad bought a white VW Beatle, with a sunroof, and we traveled around a lot. All over Germany, into France, to Austria. By the time we left Germany we had over 200,000 kilometers on that car. Once in a while, Mom or Dad would bring some C-rations (or maybe K-rations?) when they were sold at the Commissary. Soon after that we would take a drive and have a picnic. It was fun eating real Army food, even if some of the offerings were not as good as others. At that time, there were many circuses in Germany, and we often went to them. I remember bits and pieces of those shows. Clowns, elephants, the big cat shows, acrobats etc. Two incidents that stand out from the many memories of so many excellent acts: First, my parents laughing when a women wearing a fur coat in the front row was sprayed by a tiger (good kitty!), second my Dad telling me that the guy performing the next act was world famous. His name was Unos (spelling unknown) and his skill was to balance on one finger. Mighty impressive indeed. We took road trips, often to camp out in our big blue tent, most weekends when Dad did not have duty or was not studying for his degree in history at the University of Maryland, European division. Getting that degree was one of his proudest moments. The guest speaker was Doctor Arnold Toynbee, one of the greatest historians in history, and while I do not remember a word he said I do remember how much Dad respected him. With his love of education, I'm sure that even back in those days I knew that getting a degree was something that I would have to do. Camping, day trips, going to special places like Johanneskreuz (an inn out in the country), visits to castles, Rothenburg, family. So many good memories of those trips around Germany. We did so much family stuff.
Even though at the time the military was woefully underpaid Sis and I had toys. Perhaps not that many, but we relished those we had. Most of my toy animals had made it from Florida, so I had those, though I missed the giraffe that had been lost. Not that I remember many of the toys, but I do remember the toy chest that we were expected to put them in at the end of the day. It was an old gear chest from Dad's time in the B-36s Mom said. I had Lincoln Logs which I liked a lot even after I stepped on one and cut my eyebrow in the fall (no stitches since I promised not to scratch at it). I also had a police equipment set including a toy gun and handcuffs. The reason I remember this is that I was once considering trading the handcuffs for a toy a friend of mine had, then woke up apparently after dreaming that the deal had been made but realizing that I really liked my toy and asking Mom to check and make sure I had not made the trade. Guess I woke her up to do so. She was not angry at me for responding to a dream, which tells you that she was patient and kind, though she did expect you to do the best that you could. She had a lot of patience for things that were not intentional or avoidable stupidity, and I am lucky to have been her son.
One day Dad came home and he and Mom talked earnestly for a while. I heard bits and pieces, enough to know that something serious was going on. He told her to buy a lot of easily stored food that they would put it in the basement, and that she was to be ready to take us and stay down there if the Soviets came across the border. That must have been in response to the Cuban Missile Crisis, but at the time for us kids it was a bit scary but even moreso exciting. I thought it might be fun to camp out in the basement, but we never did. Eventually that threat passed, and we went on with our pleasant lives. One night we were on a dark road somewhere in the countryside listening to Armed Forces Radio and the announcer came on and said that the President had been assassinated. All was quiet for a while, then Dad said that even though he did not like Kennedy that no one had the right to kill our President.
Eventually I was old enough to go to school, and of course they had one on base. It was a building that seemed large to me at the time, with a lot of people. I took the 1st and 2nd grades there, and honestly do not remember much except one of my teachers being a young woman with brown hair, and falling downstairs once while embedded in a mass of students. The fall may have been helped by a push or more likely an inadvertent bump, as I complained that someone had pushed me after tumbling down, and I ended up visiting the hospital and having the doctor tell my Mom and Dad that I should be fine but if some symptoms occurred to bring me back. On the walks home, my friends and I talked, and sometimes told of the dreaded "Spanking Machine" that was the fate awaiting those who broke the rules. Apparently the evil-doing student was put into the machine, and it would paddle him or her before spitting the now chastised child out to return to class. Like all such stories, we all had heard of someone who had been through the ordeal, but somehow all of our little group had managed to escape the dire punishment.
Those were good days. Of course they came to an end, but were, happily, replaced by more good days. My Dad retired, after 24 years in the service, and like most heroes was forever after ignored by the government he had served. His 15% disability from the scum at the bureaucratic disaster known as the Veterans Administration, after the horrible conditions he had endured as a POW, was an insult. In those times I knew none of this and, as a young child will, simply followed to our next adventure which was living at Wernau am Neckar near good family.
Many years later, when I was constantly going to Germany on temporary duty in the mid 80s to early 90s, I spent a little time at Ramstein. Of course I drove around, reawakened some old memories. I saw the old apartment quarters, they were well maintained and still being used. The theater, the chapel, pretty much everything was as I recalled. I went to the club and had a meal downstairs, I seem to recall that the Chinese restaurant had been replaced. Also, when I took my family to Germany when we were stationed on Crete we took a time driving around there, and of course I tortured them with tales of "back in the day".
I remember looking out and seeing how far away the ocean was. I think I slept for a while. Eventually we got to Frankfurt, or perhaps Rhein Main, and there was Dad and an official car to drive us to Ramstein. We were happy to see him, and I can't help but think that even at the tender age of 3 or 4 I must have looked at the German towns and countryside as we drove through it and wondered about this new to me but very old country. To this day, driving around in Germany leaves me with a sense of well-managed age, with the background sounds a bit different, the cool dampness of the land offering a lift to the spirit, and, at least for small construction, the far better German construction codes giving their buildings a sense of permanence that ours will never have. One thing that I do not remember and never asked my Mom was how she felt going back to what had been her second homeland; getting off the plane must have brought up a few concerns and perhaps some memories of a past that had ended only a few years before.
At first we lived in the small town of Ramstein, but I do not recall how long that was nor much about it. There was a gate to our driveway, and nice people around, but that is as far as my memory allows me to travel. Later, we settled into our quarters at Ramstein Air Base. The housing area was, and may still be, apartment buildings of about six units wide by about four units high with basement storage. They were painted in colors that were not quite weak enough to qualify as pastels, and were basically shaped like shoe boxes. There was a playground in the square formed by every four buildings, with sandboxes, swings, and other basic playground equipment. Life for us kids was good. Get up, play, go back home to a loving mother who took excellent care of us and taught us good manners and how to behave. Wait for Dad to come home. We had friends, and I can remember a group of us deciding we wanted to dig all the way to China and spent several days in one sandbox with that fun but futile pursuit. Dad went to work every day, he was an Intelligence Officer and had an office in The Cave. The dependents were allowed to visit the offices once (I only remember once but it could have been once a year). I remember the excitement of going into the area, how good it felt when I saw him, and how fun it was to see where Daddy worked. He showed us his desk, and I noticed the maps and other items that had heavy covers on them. Of course I asked what those where and why they were covered, and he said maps and other things that were secret and so could not be seen.
One of the times that Dad had an exercise he called Mom, and a few moments later Sis and I were being dressed in "nice" clothes and being told in no uncertain terms that Dad was bringing a guest home for dinner and we were to be on our best behavior. Dad arrived, and asked our guest to enter before he did. The man, who was tall and dignified was not that old, and dressed in a German uniform. He entered with a strong stride, and Mom greeted him in German and curtsied. I had never seen anyone do that before. I had no idea that my Mom even knew how to do that. But there was no time to stare, because the guest shook my, and Sis' hands and than it was off to dinner. I do not remember what we had, but I do remember the grown ups talking back and forth with interest and great depth. The conversation continued after dinner until our guest left, with handshakes and good cheer. It was only later, after I had learned some history, that I remembered what my Dad told me about our guest. He said "If there was still a Holy roman Empire, that man would be the Emperor." So I am thinking that he was either von Hapsburg or von Hohenzollern, and truly a nice person from the little time I knew him.
As one would expect, life went on, and not always in a good way for some in our little community. One day Dad came home and told us that one of our neighbors, who's kids we played with, had been killed in an aircraft accident. I asked why he just did not jump out with the parachute, and I was a bit surprised when he said that the plane did not have them, so it might have been a cargo aircraft. Also, one of the base generals was killed when his parachute failed on a training jump, and of course that was a time of sadness too. But overall, those years were pleasant for the Marshall family.
Incidents that stay in mind, despite the years: During our time there they opened a new officer's club on base, and we would have a meal there once in a while. There was a Chinese food restaurant in the basement, and I was surprised that the waiters spoke such good German since Mom talked to them in Deutsch. Mom took us to see movies at the Base Theater a few times, and we saw one movie featuring the hero getting trapped in a room that filled with water. Mom took Sis and me out of there during that scene, answering that we were to young to see stuff like that when we complained, but I think that her fear of being in confined spaces, that started during the war when she was trapped in a building that was bombed, must have kicked in big-time in that scene. Years later I saw the movie on TV, and thought back to a time when life was simpler but in some ways darker. I spent some time at various friends' apartments, and once in a while saw TV, which was something we did not have. The only show I actually remember was when the Beatles came to America and were featured guests on - I think - the Ed Sullivan show. The crowd went crazy, and an era was born. For some days later a bunch of us tried to sing Beatle songs, but my parents, who were great fans of classical music, told me to stop with the noise. I had the first nightmare that I can still vividly recall while there ... of going into the base chapel and looking into a coffin that was on a dais, then falling in. It was no ordinary coffin, because I went straight through the bottom and fell endlessly, past fierce demon heads that snapped at me as I fell, and snakes, and garish colors and things I know not what.
Dad bought a white VW Beatle, with a sunroof, and we traveled around a lot. All over Germany, into France, to Austria. By the time we left Germany we had over 200,000 kilometers on that car. Once in a while, Mom or Dad would bring some C-rations (or maybe K-rations?) when they were sold at the Commissary. Soon after that we would take a drive and have a picnic. It was fun eating real Army food, even if some of the offerings were not as good as others. At that time, there were many circuses in Germany, and we often went to them. I remember bits and pieces of those shows. Clowns, elephants, the big cat shows, acrobats etc. Two incidents that stand out from the many memories of so many excellent acts: First, my parents laughing when a women wearing a fur coat in the front row was sprayed by a tiger (good kitty!), second my Dad telling me that the guy performing the next act was world famous. His name was Unos (spelling unknown) and his skill was to balance on one finger. Mighty impressive indeed. We took road trips, often to camp out in our big blue tent, most weekends when Dad did not have duty or was not studying for his degree in history at the University of Maryland, European division. Getting that degree was one of his proudest moments. The guest speaker was Doctor Arnold Toynbee, one of the greatest historians in history, and while I do not remember a word he said I do remember how much Dad respected him. With his love of education, I'm sure that even back in those days I knew that getting a degree was something that I would have to do. Camping, day trips, going to special places like Johanneskreuz (an inn out in the country), visits to castles, Rothenburg, family. So many good memories of those trips around Germany. We did so much family stuff.
Even though at the time the military was woefully underpaid Sis and I had toys. Perhaps not that many, but we relished those we had. Most of my toy animals had made it from Florida, so I had those, though I missed the giraffe that had been lost. Not that I remember many of the toys, but I do remember the toy chest that we were expected to put them in at the end of the day. It was an old gear chest from Dad's time in the B-36s Mom said. I had Lincoln Logs which I liked a lot even after I stepped on one and cut my eyebrow in the fall (no stitches since I promised not to scratch at it). I also had a police equipment set including a toy gun and handcuffs. The reason I remember this is that I was once considering trading the handcuffs for a toy a friend of mine had, then woke up apparently after dreaming that the deal had been made but realizing that I really liked my toy and asking Mom to check and make sure I had not made the trade. Guess I woke her up to do so. She was not angry at me for responding to a dream, which tells you that she was patient and kind, though she did expect you to do the best that you could. She had a lot of patience for things that were not intentional or avoidable stupidity, and I am lucky to have been her son.
One day Dad came home and he and Mom talked earnestly for a while. I heard bits and pieces, enough to know that something serious was going on. He told her to buy a lot of easily stored food that they would put it in the basement, and that she was to be ready to take us and stay down there if the Soviets came across the border. That must have been in response to the Cuban Missile Crisis, but at the time for us kids it was a bit scary but even moreso exciting. I thought it might be fun to camp out in the basement, but we never did. Eventually that threat passed, and we went on with our pleasant lives. One night we were on a dark road somewhere in the countryside listening to Armed Forces Radio and the announcer came on and said that the President had been assassinated. All was quiet for a while, then Dad said that even though he did not like Kennedy that no one had the right to kill our President.
Eventually I was old enough to go to school, and of course they had one on base. It was a building that seemed large to me at the time, with a lot of people. I took the 1st and 2nd grades there, and honestly do not remember much except one of my teachers being a young woman with brown hair, and falling downstairs once while embedded in a mass of students. The fall may have been helped by a push or more likely an inadvertent bump, as I complained that someone had pushed me after tumbling down, and I ended up visiting the hospital and having the doctor tell my Mom and Dad that I should be fine but if some symptoms occurred to bring me back. On the walks home, my friends and I talked, and sometimes told of the dreaded "Spanking Machine" that was the fate awaiting those who broke the rules. Apparently the evil-doing student was put into the machine, and it would paddle him or her before spitting the now chastised child out to return to class. Like all such stories, we all had heard of someone who had been through the ordeal, but somehow all of our little group had managed to escape the dire punishment.
Those were good days. Of course they came to an end, but were, happily, replaced by more good days. My Dad retired, after 24 years in the service, and like most heroes was forever after ignored by the government he had served. His 15% disability from the scum at the bureaucratic disaster known as the Veterans Administration, after the horrible conditions he had endured as a POW, was an insult. In those times I knew none of this and, as a young child will, simply followed to our next adventure which was living at Wernau am Neckar near good family.
Many years later, when I was constantly going to Germany on temporary duty in the mid 80s to early 90s, I spent a little time at Ramstein. Of course I drove around, reawakened some old memories. I saw the old apartment quarters, they were well maintained and still being used. The theater, the chapel, pretty much everything was as I recalled. I went to the club and had a meal downstairs, I seem to recall that the Chinese restaurant had been replaced. Also, when I took my family to Germany when we were stationed on Crete we took a time driving around there, and of course I tortured them with tales of "back in the day".
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