65-Year-Old Memories

I went to Mineral Wells to spend some time with Dad on Father's Day. Somehow the subject of private airplanes came up and I said I didn't think I would ever go up in one again. Especially if there was no one but the pilot on board who could fly it. Dad shocked me when he said he wasn't afraid, as he knows he could land a plane if he had to. He said he learned how to fly a plane while he was in Okinawa during World War II.

Although Dad's Airborne Unit never made a combat jump, after paratrooper training in New Guinea they made a jump onto Okinawa, where they ran a cleanup action on the caves in the mountains looking for anti-aircraft guns. They were there when the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the Japanese surrendered. His Unit was the second one sent to Japan for the Occupation, going there from Okinawa.

In the meantime, one of his good buddies was a pilot, flying the L-4 (Liaison-4) Grasshopper (a Piper aircraft) on Okinawa. He flew liaison and spotting missions to find the Japanese and inform the US troops of their positions. Dad said they had the Japanese more or less contained on one corner of the island. During their "spare time", Dad's friend took him up in the L-4 and gave him a few flying lessons. The landing strip was on the beach, and the wind coming off the ocean sometimes made it difficult to stay over the strip in the light aircraft. The plane would swerve inland, requiring another lift and attempt to land again. I could see the delight in Dad's eyes as he told me this story. He was back there in the cockpit of that plane and having a great time!

Many years later, in civilian life in Mineral Wells, another good friend took him up several times in his personal private plane and allowed him to fly it as well. I don't think he landed this one, but he said he was certain he could. Jeez.. I hope the opportunity doesn't present itself, as I know my Dad would do it. At 91, he still feels there is nothing he cannot accomplish.

Dad still is very active. He goes to the VFW and the American Legion twice a week, where not only do they have a good meal and a drawing for a pot full of money, but they always have music. The ladies are lined up to dance with him. That must be the secret of his good health -- and good looks! Nothing makes you feel and look better than to feel like you are necessary for something -- even dancing with all the ladies! When he's not dancing, he's there with his buds playing poker once a week. He also mows his own lawn, and has a project in the works to mend his privacy fence and paint it. His little dog Mickey is a great companion, but even he can't always keep up with Dad's pace! Keep it up, Dad!

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Wildlife Rescue in Progress: (National Geographic Photo)

• On June 15th twelve rescued sea turtles were released into the ocean off Cape Charles, VA, making room for injured turtles from the Gulf at two East Coast aquariums, New England Aquarium in Boston and the Virginia Aquarium in Virginia Beach. Teams from these aquariums rehabilitate stranded turtles from around the country and release them back into the ocean. The Gulf of Mexico is home to five species of endangered or threatened sea turtles. More than 350 turtles have died or been injured since the BP oil rig explosion. At least 62 turtles have been found covered in oil. Hopefully, many of them will find a place to recover in one of these aquariums.

• On June 22nd two U.S. Coast Guard cargo planes carried 62 Brown Pelicans and one Northern Gannet from Louisiana to the Aransas Wildlife Refuge in Aransas Pass, Texas on the Gulf Coast. Fish and Wildlife Services hope they will stay in their new home.

Every single turtle and every single pelican that are rescued keeps them that much further from extinction.

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To Dunk or Not To Dunk

In 2007 I was working on a biographical handbook for my 50th high school reunion. One of my former classmates was writing me about his reluctance to attend, as so many in our small town were so conservative -- both politically and religiously. He had had some unpleasant conversations regarding religion and politics at past reunions, and didn't want to repeat them. His present religious intolerance was related to a bad experience when he was very young with a minister in our small town who insisted he be baptized for "his mother's sake"! Knowing he would be glad if he did come to the reunion, as it would be a once in a lifetime experience, I wrote the following to him:

"Many of us suffered similar experiences growing up in the Bible belt. I can remember being frightened out of my wits at age 6 by a minister ranting, raving, taking his coat off, dredging up images of hellfire and damnation to the point he was dripping in sweat. I was on the first row and just knew he was speaking directly to and about me. Evil little 6-year-old that I was, I had to be 'saved'! I 'walked down the aisle' that night and couldn't wait to go home and tell my parents. They forbid me to be baptized, and rightly so. However, at the tender age of 12, at a tent revival in Bangs, Texas, I was determined it would 'take' this time.... and it did.... and I was dunked.

As I grew, I incessantly questioned religious leaders, relatives, and even dear old Mr. Sweeney (our high school science teacher), when I worked in the darkroom. I could see the rampant hypocrisy and inconsistencies in our religion and none of it made sense to me. Therefore, when I had children of my own, I vowed they would not be subjected to my experiences. I eventually found a church that I could live with... A priest won me over when he made the statement, 'I'm here to love you, not to judge you'. And thus began my relationship with the Episcopal church. I loved all the solemnity, ritual, (ours was a 'high' church), and a particularly rebellious and controversial priest in Albuquerque, New Mexico. All three of my children were baptized (sprinkled, not dunked!), and my older son later became an acolyte in the church. They never heard about hell, Satan, or that they were born with original sin until they were much older and ventured to attend friends' churches of different denominations.

Which leads me to a story about my youngest child, Matthew. He is ten years younger than his siblings and still was living at home during my last marriage. We lived outside Denton, Texas and frequently attended a small country church which my in-laws attended. The first summer we lived there, Matthew and his stepbrother went to Vacation Bible School. A week into the school I got a call from the young minister that he needed to speak with me about Matthew. He had so much concern in his voice that I hurried to the Pastor's Study that very afternoon. After our cordial greetings, he got right to the 'problem'. He told me he was greatly worried about Matthew. I asked him why and he replied, 'I asked Matthew if he was saved'. (Uh-oh, I thought) 'And?' I asked. 'His response to me was, saved from what?' At which point, I immediately burst out laughing. This did not win me any favors.. in fact, from that day forward, whenever we attended this church (which wasn't frequently anymore, even though he was a very good speaker) this man of God would never look me in the eye again nor would he shake my hand at the door!

Me? I was satisfied that I had 'saved' my own children from being force fed religion! They did get exposed, though. (Photos above and at left of Matthew in 1982 -- He looks like an innocent imp, doesn't he?)

I have another really funny story about my nearly 80-year-old mother when she joined the Mormon Church and went through their baptismal process, but that will wait until another time."

I went on to reassure my classmate that we were spreading the word that this reunion would not be the appropriate place to discuss politics or religion! The classmate, who obtained a doctorate in mathematics, and is a professor of math at a New York university, did attend the reunion I'm happy to say. I noticed him in deep conversations several times, but never heard him complain. I assume the conversations were of an amicable nature.. devoid of politics or religion!

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I hope the little story above doesn't offend anyone. I certainly don't mean to. I think that this was brought to my mind due to the volunteer work I've been involved with lately. There are so many good programs in this little town that help those in need. The people involved are from all different religious denominations. As I work with them, each has very lovingly invited me to attend their church. Each Sunday I find myself debating whether or not to attend a church, and if so, which one.. And why? Much as shopping for a pair of shoes, I seem to be looking for a church that "fits". And THAT does not feel right to me. I hate to say this, but it all reminds me of my stance on warriors and war. I love the church members, but don't feel so good about their religions.

And even though my children -- all grown up with children of their own -- do not attend churches today, I am proud that each of them is an honorable, decent, loving, and compassionate human being. Good to one another, to their children, and to me. Each cares deeply about what goes on in some or all aspects of society. And of course, you all know from reading my blogs what kind of children -- my grandchildren -- they are raising. Hmmmm. Isn't that what religions are supposed to be about?

I've been cultivating "good news" to share in coming blog posts. I'm also awaiting a batch of Alaskan photographs to help cool the spirits of those of us who have been sweltering in the Texas heat of late.

Until next time..

Peace, love, and a cool dip!
Marilyn