Salutations

Dad was in the service during WWII like most of his generation. Instead of going overseas, he was sent to Ohio to work on airplanes with a group of engineer-soldiers. They fought for their country with slide rules instead of rifles. I don’t know the exact dates of his military stint, other than that he and Mom married in October of 1943 and my brother was born in September of 1945. Mom and the baby went out and lived with him on the base, for she told me various stories about this time period. Army life for my young Mother, with knife fights and drunken brawls outside her doorstep, was quite a change from growing up in Beverly Hills. During this time, she learned to knot a sewing thread with a few deft twists and a quick roll between the thumb and forefinger. I remember so distinctly her showing this trick to me and telling me of the older no-nonsense female army sergeant who had taught it to her. In this photo, Dad is holding my eight month old brother Mike near their Army housing. I wish I knew what he was saying – the expression is an unusual one for him. Rather than a proud, beaming new father, it’s as if he were delivering a gangster impersonation or sarcastically barking an Army command.

He told me he liked carrying Mike in his arms around base all the time because it got him out of saluting.