I’ve been thinking about my dad lately and as you can see he occasionally turns up on these pages. And while I’m thinking about him I’m also thinking about me too.
He was born in 1918. The Great War was ending. He was a kid during the Jazz Age, an adolescent during the Great Depression. He told me that he saw Babe Ruth play.
He walked from Naples to Rome in 1944 with the US Army and said that he was entering Rome as the Germans were leaving. He landed in France in August 1944 and eventually ended up in Austria with his brother who was with Patton’s Army.
He watched Korea from afar, knew about jet airplanes, Sputnik, lived through Vietnam, Nixon, Watergate, saw men walk on the moon, had two phones in a house he owned, owned a car, loved the 1951 Giants, reveled in the ’69 Mets, watched as computers took over our lives, September 11, Iraq and marveled I guess at how fast those changes came and went.
And me. Born during the Truman administration and while me and my dad overlapped times I’ve seen cell phones, tablets, and now a house I own has 4 cell phones and I guess that sometimes I ought to sit back and marvel at how fast these changes came and went.
On and on. It must have been a great time to be alive.