Monday, May 26, 2014

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day in the USA.

I am thinking of World War Two, the war that shaped my young life, so my post today will be highly personal one.  Here are some images that tell of the people who fought, the people who worked and prayed on the home front, of one who did not come back and one who did.

Here is the data; the numbers are in MILLIONS:


Here is the moral of the story:




 Here are my personal remembrances:


My brother Andy and me, wearing hats that belonged to our uncles.

My most vivid memories are of saying our good-byes and of how tense my mother and my grandmother were for all those years.


A flag like this hung in the front window of the two-family house that my family shared with my grandparents.  Ours had five stars, for my dad and for four of my mother's brothers.  They were all blue until the last year of the war.


Our gold star was for my godfather John Pisacane, who served in Patton's army and then in a tank battalion under General Eisenhower.  He was killed during the push to Berlin.




I was lucky enough to get my daddy back.  Sam always felt to me like the guardian angel that he appears as in this post-war trip to the beach.  I'm the little girl on the right next to my brother Andy.

The other children are my cousins Jimmy, Joann, and Tony.

I longed for my daddy so much for the years while he was gone that images of returning soldiers still move me to tears.



Every year, on Memorial Day I watch this clip from the incredible TV documentary Victory at Sea.  If you don't see the link, PLEASE find it here YouTube: Victory at Sea Episode 26 Part 3--



Don't miss it.





I have to go now.  I am sobbing.

Annamaria Maria - Memorial Day 2014 

14 comments:

  1. Thank you Annamaria.

    I can't imagine what it was like to be the family of a man at war. The unending stress. The fear of a knock at the door. The dreaded telegram.

    My mother's first husband (of only a couple of years) flew bombers for the South African Air Force and was shot down near Sicily. He died aboard an American ship. His son - my brother - never knew his father.

    "They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
    Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
    At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
    We will remember them."

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  2. With your gift for empathy, Stan, you describe the experience perfectly. All those waiting women. My heart breaks for the ones, like your mother, who got the awful news. Today we are supposed to remember the dead, but I also think a great deal about the ones who lived with broken hearts and shattered dreams.

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  3. I watched it. I sobbed too. Memories of uncles, fathers. A different time. But I remembered.

    But from European Parliament elections, a sad proportion of Europe seems to have forgotten. They should never forget.

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  4. For me, one of the most painful scenes from a movie was the opening to "Saving Private Ryan," where we see a lonely mother washing dishes in a dim farmhouse kitchen, and through the window we see a black car come driving up the road...

    Jeff: Unfortunately, all too many humans seem unable to learn from history, and especially not from history that preceded their own birth. All that matters is what THEY themselves have personally experienced and what's important to them, to their comfort. They're incapable of seeing the larger picture, the longer canvas, of giving as well as receiving. Sigh.

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  5. Jeff, I was thinking of you when I watched the end of the clip with the celebrations of the victory over fascism. And EvKa, my thoughts were identical to what you have written here. How many deaths does it take till they know that too many people have died? When will they learn, when will they ever learn?

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  6. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1y2SIIeqy34

    If you want to keep weeping, listen to this.

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  7. A great, apropos, timeless piece of writing and singing by a guy my wife sang with in folk clubs in her high school days, and whom I was lucky enough to meet in my twenties:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6W_a2U-bIU

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    1. That is one I did not know, Lenny. Thank you for telling us about it. My father the WWII combat Marine came back a pacifist after fighting in the Pacific. I am proud that he served, but even prouder of his post war philosophy. "War is the stupidest, evilest way to answer a question that man could ever invent. No one who has eve actually fought in a war would ever start one."

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  8. I lived on the beach of Norfolk during WW2 and we used to pick up all kinds of things that had washed up from the Nazi subs, including body parts. We saw the young Nazis riding around town in Navy trucks and used to want to kill them... it was a terrible, terrible time Thelma Straw in Manhattan, now fearful of what is happening with V. Putin et co.

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    1. Thelma, we played war when I was a child. I was three, four. My brother was five, six. It was all anyone talked about so it was our game of choice. What did we war babies know? How painful it is to think of the many children who are living in war zones right this minute.

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  9. Beautiful piece, Annamaria. My dad prized his military service, and yet it tore him apart. He was too young for what he experienced. He never got over it.

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  10. Lisa, My dad was older--the guys in his unit were six, eight years younger than he. Because he already had two kids, they called him "pappy." But those extra years did not insulate him from trauma. For a few years just before he died at age 94, he finally started to tell his war stories to me and my husband. One day he ended a story, by looking at me and saying, "I spent my life trying to forget all this. But I never did."

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  11. My uncles served in the war, but both came home. I think the war traumatized so many people.

    A close friend's step-father was in the middle of Europe in uniform, and said he lost all religious feeling because he said the war was so horrific all around him.

    But I also think about the 58,000 soldiers who died in the Vietnam war, and the thousands of soldiers killed and mained and suffering with PTSD who'd been in Iraq and Afghanistan.

    I cry, too, whenever I see a family has lost a loved one, children have lost a parent or parents a child or a spouse their partner. Or when I see a severely injured veteran who will need to be taken care of for the rest of his/her life.

    I can't fathom it. The loss of life and health -- physical and mental -- seems so horrific, and these wars so unneeded, and at what cost to humanity?

    I don't say this about WWII; as horrible as it was. Even though I and so many people oppose war, that one did have to be fought.

    But it's youth who suffer, those from here and abroad and then civilians in several other countries.

    Yes, i weep over this, the losses here and in other countries, too.

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