An unusual Prologue/Introduction!
Chapter 1
NINETEEN FORTY-FOUR
It was not the best of times. In our family it was a horrible time. As for me, a nine-year-old boy, it was a nightmare. This was the day everyone cried – especially mom, dad and my older siblings. If I had looked around (which I didn’t dare do) I might have seen other people in the room also crying. I did hear the noise—people blowing their nose and loud moans.
At the front of the room there was black cloth draped over a table. His photograph was on the table. Large baskets of flowers were on the floor. We were in church—the church where my father was the pastor. I was sitting in the front row with my family.
I really didn’t understand what was going on. I only knew that Charles, my favorite brother, was killed in 1944, during the War.
We first heard about the death of Charles at Christmas. I came into the living room and saw my mother crying. She was wiping away tears with her handkerchief, and with her other hand she was removing ornaments from our family Christmas tree. Dad was standing near the fireplace, holding a yellow paper in his hand. He was crying really hard. Never saw anything like this before. They received a telegram from the War Department. It was news telling us that Charles was killed in action. All the kids heard the commotion, and were told what happened.
After church we went home, and ate a meal. I recall that all my siblings were home. Two brothers were still in the army; they were home. When we finished eating, dad started a conversation about what each of us would do when the war was over. The older ones knew what they were going to do. They spoke first, and explained plans for their lives. Several in our family were in high school, and told their plans to go to college. Everyone but me was standing.
I sat in the high-back chair and tried to hide. I wanted my dad to forget that I was in the room. I was wrong. He turned and spotted me sitting in the big chair. Ghee whiz, what was I going to say? Don’t ask me, please!
Dad looked directly at me: “Alright, Joey, you’re last. What about you? What do you want to do when you grow up?”
To tell the truth, the first thing that I wanted to say was that I dreamed to be a soldier, like Charles, and go shoot people—shoot them like they shot and killed my brother.
I didn’t say this. No way! I squirmed in the chair, and merely stammered: “I don’t know.”
Memories of this time period are vague, not only because I was a young boy, but I have a lot of mixed feelings and emotions about this period in my life. I’m telling it here only because of what happened after the Memorial Service at the church. The thing that happened was the question asked by my dad. His words stuck with me the rest of my life. In the years ahead, what he said lingered and became a huge influence.
A look ahead
The above narrative is purposely placed at the beginning—it serves as a prologue to this book. As the story develops, it will be shown that the question asked was remembered and remained an abiding presence to assist various decisions and changes during my long life. The death of Charles, and the question asked by my father, merged into one experience and colored my life in such a way that it followed me both as a shadow and a guide.
Within the story I tell, an answer to the question slowly emerges.
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Thank you!
~ Joseph