They were supposed to meet at Union Station in Kansas City. Aunt Maudine waited, and waited. Hours passed. Finally, sadly, she left for home. Dad showed up much later. Don’t know why he was late, certainly not willingly. This happened in the 40’s, no cell phones, no way to talk about why he was late, no way to talk about changing plans.
Dad was coming back from WWII., Aunt Maudine, was to meet him at Union Station, then drive him to MT. Moriah. Don’t know why Mom wasn’t with Aunt Maudine.
I imagine she didn’t have a car, or couldn’t get away from her job as switchboard operator, or, more likely because Maudine was already there. She had an apartment in Kansas City.
Anyway, the meeting never happened. Now what?
Dad waited awhile, then set off on foot, intending to walk to Mt. Moriah. the mix-up could be unscrambled later. He figured he’d be able to hitch a few rides along the way.
He had good luck, got a lift right away on a truck right outside Kansas City.
The trucker had been driving for hours, up from somewhere deeper south. He was a little sleepy when he picked-up dad.
They talked on the road about truck driving and soldiering.
Dad had served several years in both Europe and Asia. He first loaded artillery shells in European battles.
(I still have a heavy shell casing he sent home as souvenir).
Somewhere between Europe and Asia he was promoted to mechanic & truckdriver.
The trucker was quick to take advantage of this information. He asked Dad to take the wheel while he took a much-needed nap. He woke up in Mt. Moriah.
The trucker, refreshed, drove on north to deliver
his load.
The open road was background for many of the years
that followed.
Dad rode from Kansas City to Mt. Moriah only to hit the road again as he searched for better jobs and better pay.
This time Mom and me too, went along for the ride. We were nomads for the next few years rambling from Iowa, Illinois, Wisconsin, and back again until Dad finally discovered the job he was destined for: glassblower. He apprenticed, at no pay, with the glassblowers at Iowa State Collage and eventually joined their ranks as a professional scientific glassblower.
Uncle Frank and Aunt Maudine also traveled the roadways to find their fortune in the shifting sands of post WWII America. Over the years, they moved from Kansas City, to Auburn, Nebraska, to Houston, Texas, and then back to Kansas City where Uncle Frank settled-in for a long career as bookkeeper.
The uncertainty of those days tested returning soldiers all across the land. Young men by the millions were searching for the roles and responsibilities that would define the rest of their lives. Most had help with their finances through the G.I. Bill. Dad and Uncle Frank didn’t. The benefits of the G.I. Bill were not available to soldiers from Missouri. I never learned why this was so.
They succeeded anyway, without help from the government.
WWII created seismic shifts all over the world. Whole countries took a decade or more to recover. America was the only country completely open for business.
The bountiful economic boomtime of the 50’s was the result. It took a few years to get the bold new economy started. It took some getting used to.
The America my Dad and Uncle frank returned to was very different from the America they left when they went to war.
They had to adapt. The traditional ways they understood were changing. This would eventually lead to better ways, but not right away.
They went to war as country boys and returned
as worldly men. They chased success until they caught it.
I think my Dad’s story, and Uncle Frank’s, too, is much the same as every other soldier that ever returned from war.
War destroys.
Those who return, rebuild
Dad in Mt. Moriah with Mom.
I got there later.