A Flawed Legacy - 3

I really do not remember much from my last year in school at Yale,  I suppose I was preparing for my senior year and as seemed to be appropriate, staying tuned to the news as it was possible I might be called to serve as so many of the older guys I had known; now, they were in the service around the world.  Then, came the news that would change my life.  Actually answer my prayers about the future. Where would I be?  What would I do?  I realized I was not going on to college as there was no money in our family to support me.

The Congress had approved what became known as the "G.I. Bill of Rights" available to all service members serving in World War II.   Eventually, I would understand that the end of World War II had been designated as December 31, 1946.  That meant that since I would be celebrating my 17th birthday on August 28th of that year, I would be eligible.

Of course, my Mother would have to sign for me and she agreed.  So, a few days after I had entered high school for my senior year, I left Yale, my school, my friends, the only family I had ever known until then and my life began to change.  The actual enlistment lasted a few minutes and then I was put on a bus headed for the train station.  That took me to Chicago where I learned I would be transferring to another train headed for the Great Lakes Naval Station, north of the city.  Now, I was alone, really alone, for the first time in my life.  Apparently, it was obvious as two other guys, my age, asked if I was also going to Great Lakes and learned they were from Indiana.  Now, the three of us wondered what we could do for the six hours we had to wait.  A couple standing nearby overheard us and the gentleman asked if we were headed for service in the Navy.  "No sir, we're going the Army Air Corps."  That's even better, my son is in the Air Corps in Europe and I know he would want you to have these tickets. He gave us four suggesting we might find another guy to go with us.  Looking at the tickets, we discovered we were heading for what turned out to be, the greatest fight most people will ever see - Zale vs. Graziano,  "Oh, how my Grand Dad would love to be here," I thought.  He loved boxing.  And what a fight it was.

Sitting behind us were two Naval officers and they overheard our concerns about getting back on the right train and leaned forward to tell us, they were headed in the same direction.  We could ride in their car.  Wow!  Life was good!

Or so I thought at the time.  We found the way to the enlisted barracks and finally got to bed a little after One in the morning.  At 4 AM, we were suddenly awakened by a loud speaker telling us that we needed to "Fall out, roll call in ten minutes."  Then, came the shocker.  When they came to my name, they called out, "McRae, S.B." and before I could answer, someone in the back shouted, "He sure ... is!"  I could not believe it,  I had never heard of a S.B. until I realized he was saying, "son of a b....".   Then, the others were yelling at me telling me to answer roll call.

Later, we were assigned to our barracks and told that we would be shipping out the next day.  They were almost right.  All of the others were going.  I did not.  I went to the office and was told it was a common mistake, that I would be leaving in a couple of days.  A couple of days came and went and I got the same answer.  By this time, I was getting scared.  I wanted to go home.  I wanted a hug from my "Nan."  Leaving the Mess hall after lunch the next day, I noticed a Chapel and so I went in and found my way to the altar.  "Please, God, help me.  Tell me what to do," I pleaded.  Then I heard words that will echo in my ears forever, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you,:"  I was no Bible student.  I had no idea those words were in the Bible.

But the next day it seemed to me that God had answered my prayers.  I was called to join in with guys headed for Fort Lewis in the State of Washington.  Those guys had joined the Engineering Corps. What?  I was supposed to be in the Air Corps!  Another screw up, but two days later, there was another new bunch in "my" barracks and WE were all headed for San Antonio.

We made it and after learning what barracks I would be assigned to, I headed for the office where they administered GED tests.  I had to pass it or they would cancel my enlistment and send me home - at my expense.  That wasn't true, but it sure scared me.  I took the text and I was no sooner back to my barracks when I heard the loud speaker, "McRae, report to the office immediately."  There I learned that I had passed the test and I needed to get back to  my barracks, immediately.  I was beginning to get used to how the military operated, daily.  Go here, go there, do this, do that, NOW!

I would soon learn that IF I passed the recruit training, I would be reporting the Radar school in Boca Raton, FL.  I liked the sound of that.  Basic training was a breeze.  I was in good shape and had no problem with all of the marching, running, jumping, climbing regimens and even was recorded as an Expert rifleman.  I was ready for Radar school.  Only, I wsan't going.   World War II was over and they no longer needed more Radar technicians.  What they really needed were more raw recruits in the Philippines.

February 7, 2014

When I started in on this blog, it was my intention to review my life experiences and through them, point out how our futures are determined.  Certainly that has been true in my life.

If you want the details - up through college, you can go back to the first of the week, but let me offer a quick peek.  Born in Detroit, MI, at the offset of the (first) "great Depression", moved to Ohio where my sister was born and my Dad was in car accident that would end his ability to remember and eventually, cause his death.  I moved to Yale, MI, where I lived with my grandparents and graduated from High School.  Joined the USAF, was sent to Japan, served for fifty some months, discharged, graduated from college in Georgia.

So, there you are.  My "problems" started with my feeling that I did not have a Dad like my class mates had, even though in reality, my Grandfather was one of the finest men I have ever known in all of my years,  I seldom saw my Mother, but my Grandmother treated her first grandson as her own son.  I was blessed by teachers, the one who guided me through the first eight grades and offered to me, personally, insight as to what was really happening in the world around us.  WWII had begun and at first I was scared, but as I aged, I had an urge to join the military and help bring the war to an end.  That was the first I can recall where fantasy began to be my constant companion.  In high school, I discovered there were teachers who really care for their students.  In my case it was our Latin teacher who saw in me an eagerness to excel and continued long after two of her classes.  I was a lead in the Junior class play because of her encouragement.  But these people began to fade into my background as I was faced with decisions and no one near to really encourage me.

The first real life personal experience concerned a delay in sending me on to Lackland AFB for basic training along with the others who came on the same day.  I was there for a week before the proper connections were made.  In the midst of all this, I was scared and somehow, I was prompted to go into the Base chapel and pray that I could escape the fear that beginning to build.  To my amazement - which lasts to this very hour, I still believe I heard these words, aloud.  I know, I turned around to see if there was another person in the room.  "Do not fear, I will always be with you."  I was even more scared realizing that I had been alone.  I had no real experience in church in my youth even though it was a well established practice in my home.   We went to church on every Sunday morning, in time to attend Sunday School and were back on Wednesday night for prayer services.  The only really thing that I recall was my embarrassment when my Grandfather fell asleep and snored during the Pastor's sermon.

Basic training was a breeze, up until we learned that they had closed most of the Technical schools as they no longer needed the graduates.  I had no reason to fear going to the Philippine Islands and looked forward to the journey.  Actually, it was good for me as I got to know guys from all over the States, was taught to play card games I had never heard of before.  And there was a most memorable experience that remains as real to me today as it was in the hours aboard ship.  One night, I could not sleep, just imagine trying to sleep with a hundred guys in your bedroom, each one it seemed, having the same problem I had.  Well, I got up, went up on deck and realizing I might be in trouble if anyone saw me, I climbed up as far as I could and sat down against a bulkhead where no one would know.  As I looked up, the sky was brilliant with stars and I now realize, planets I did not know of, shining brightly, as far as you could see in every direction.  In a word, it was awesome.  I don't know how long I sat there observing everything I could take in, until I felt like I could fall asleep.  I would have been in trouble if anyone saw me, so I carefully headed back to where I belonged.  And that vision is with with me to this day.

I had no problems in the service; in fact, I had been commended several times for my performance.  But when I came home, I began to realize the "gulf" that was obvious between me and others in my family. Oh, there were no problems in the day-to-day exchanges, but it was as if we were living in two different worlds.  I would be going back to wherever I had came from and no one - even my Mother, seemed to care.  Well, I had been apart from them for over seven years, so what difference did it make? Looking back, it made quite a difference in me.  Now, I began to ask questions of the people I would meet, on base and off.  "Tell me about your mother, your father, your brothers and sisters..." and some of them could go on for hours.  Loneliness began to creep into my life.  I began to make up stories about the family I thought had abandoned me and they grew and grew.   Little did I realize how this pattern was taking over my life.

Living with my Mother after the service was difficult for me and it was probably was for her.  She had never re-married, but had a long time boy friend, who was married with another "home" in another city. We could never talk about that, but my "Sunday School" training caused me to believe, my Mother was wrong.  I stayed away as long as I could and then I met my first wife.  She was really interested in getting married and it wasn't long before I began to think this was an answer to my problems with my Mother.  I was about to get the shock of my life.   I thought I loved my "intended" and so I was happy and thrilled by the prospect of telling my Mother.   Her response, "Sherwood, there has never been a divorce in our family!"   Whoa!   I was not talking about a divorce, I had planned to get married.   I could not share that response with my intended, but it was obvious, my Mother was not going to be pleased with her son's marriage.  Sadly, it is a fact, we would grow further and further apart.  When my marriage came to an end - five years later, any hopes of a relationship with my Mother, seemed to end.

Ironically, although it never really had anything to do with me, my Mother would be caught in what might be interpreted as a lie many years later.  She had, as a matter of fact, been married much earlier and that marriage ended in an annulment - not a divorce, so she was partially correct in her statement to me.  She would eventually marry her man friend when his wife died, and she would latter confess, "that was the biggest mistake I ever made in my life."

The facts are, I lost my Father and was never told about it.  Some have told me I was too young to fully understand.   Then, I lost my Mother because, somehow, I was never really very important to her, at least, in my mind and incident upon incident piled up to the point where there was no hope for our recovery.   I say that sadly, because I really loved her.  I was so very proud of her as a youngster for no better reason that she was the most beautiful woman in the world, in my mind.

Which brings me to the point of this blog.   I have witnessed this scenario play out hundreds if not thousands of times in my life time.   We have reached a point where I honestly believe, marriage as the loving relationship it has been known to be for centuries is becoming an anomaly, irrelevant as a way of life.  And so what does that mean for people like me?  That concerns me.  I was very fortunate.  I was raised in the midst of the most loving relationship I have ever known, personally.  My grandparents were the epitome of everything the poets write about, an eternal relationship.  They had very little in a material sense.  When my grandfather passed away. they found several beautiful shirts, each still packed into their original wrapping.   He didn't need them.  He had other shirts, each one carefully, dutifully and lovingly washed and dried by his "Lilly" and wanted to let her know, by not caring for the others, how much he loved her.   And there was never a day in the many years of their marriage that he ever had to wait on a meal.   Her first order of the day was to care for her husband,

I am so grateful that I had that experience of living in their home.  I was just a boy, I did not understand all that was happening around me, but I knew that at 4:30 every morning, there were cows to milk and that at the end of the work day, I could be assured that my grandfather would be sitting in his favorite chair trying to read the paper, but losing out to his body's need to sleep and the need to occasionally, snore.   My grandmother, "Nan" to me, would smile and tell me that he's done reading his paper, it's time for bed.

My real problem in life could always be traced to the fact there was no one around to remind me of what a family is all about.  I had seen it in the life of my grand parents, but I was more enamored by the fact, the other "family" members came and went, driving their newer cars, wearing their fancy clothes and patting me on the head as they left.   All I ever knew for certain, the day would come when I would leave that home and I grew up, always wondering, where would I go?

I lived with that question for decades of my life.   It never ceased until that fateful day when I was on a Greyhound bus, headed for Tulsa, OK.   But then, that's another story for another day.