On October 25th, 2010, one of my high school sophomore English students asked, “What was your dad’s generation called?” She wanted to know so that she could add some meat to her VFW speech competition essay. The topic was, “Does your generation have a role in America’s future?” I whip out my cell phone (which we were not supposed to use in school) as I tell them the prompt should read, “What will be your generation’s role in America’s future,” and call home. To my delight, Dad, almost 87 and a WWII veteran, picks up.
“Hello, Leadville!” I hear his jovial voice, and my students smile—delighted to see their teacher breaking a rule. I explain the purpose of my call, and get an immediate response:
“The Greatest Generation.” Journalist/News Anchor Tom Brokaw termed the phrase in his 1998 book. I can hear the pride in Dad’s voice; he knows that my students are listening.
Jump to today, almost one year later, and I finally have the time to dig more deeply into Dad’s life to write my own responses to his experiences. This morning on the phone my Mom suggests that Dad might like to post something to my blogs now and then, and it hits me–OF COURSE! Who better to respond to the treasures I discover in Dad’s letters home over 60 years ago than the author of the letters himself!
And so…Dad…if you’re reading this, I would like to invite you–formally–to co-author my book! Whadaya say?
5 replies on “Calling Dad”
Good luck :) I cannot wait to read your book.
Thank you for the comment,and for visiting my site! I plan to work very diligently until it is completed.
Insight from Dad. I think that when we had to jump, we had a rope to swing over
the ditch. Those that did not make it had to be pulled out, or climb out.
On the train, some of the time, the shades were down in certain areas we
There were 501 GI’s on the train and I did not know till two weeks after I got
to camp that I was the l of 501. I was in the field learning the operation of
a howitzer and First Sgt. came up and pulled me out of his class and said, “Come with me back to the barracks and pack your gear, you’re leaving.” He
took me to a newly formed signal battalion on the base.
When I reported in to the company Commander in the Signal Co., they asked,
“Where the hell have you been?” Didn’t you know that you had
special orders to report to this Unit?” I replied, “No Sir! I received
no orders from anyone at Ft. Devens.” [in MA] Now I was assigned to this Unit
which had a Cadre of telephone workers.
I can only imagine the confusion you felt, Dad, when asked, “Where the hell . . . “! Were you intimidated, or did you consider a witty reply?