Background: Veterans' Day 2007 was the 89th anniversary of the end of one of the greatest tragedies in human history--World War I. My grandfather volunteered for the War, and was wounded in the decisive Battle of the Argonne Forest in 1918. He was awarded the Purple Heart and the French Croix de Guerre. My previous post about him was Reflections on Veterans Day (Part I).

Because Veterans Day began as a way to celebrate the end of World War I on November 11, 1918, and because my maternal grandfather fought in World War I, I always think of him on Veterans Day.  He is pictured above, with me as a baby sitting on his lap. My parents moved to California shortly before I was born, so for many years I did not see my grandfather very often. Also, my grandmother was very sick, and my grandfather had to take care of her.

My grandfather was a milkman during the Great Depression.  My mother was born prematurely, always had health problems, and was sick a lot when she was a little girl.  My mother has often told me how her father would stay up at night with her, comforting her during her fevers and illnesses, even though he himself had to report to work very, very early. 

Many of the labor unions were built during the 1930s, and they were built because working people sacrificed and risked their lives to build them.  Back then, companies sometimes hired thugs to crush strikers and unions.  Often the police played the same role. To read one example, see my blog post about the famous "Battle of Deputies Run" in 1934.

My grandfather was a poor, uneducated immigrant who believed in the labor unions and supported their strikes. My mother used to tell me stories of how when there was a strike she and her brother, sister, and mother waited anxiously for my grandfather to come home, not knowing if he would.

My grandfather reappeared in my life when I was about 10 and he moved closer to us.  He and I really connected, and I was crazy about him.  I loved to go over to his house, and I was so happy to have re-discovered him.  Then, it seemed like almost right away, he contracted cancer, and he died.  I can still remember my mother telling me about it, and not believing that it could be true.  Perhaps it sounds petty, but 30+ years later I am still a little bitter about it--I loved him so much.

It is also interesting to think back on how a child process all of this.  I really did not believe he was dead, I kept thinking he was going to come back.  When we had the funeral and there was an open casket, he looked very life-like, which reinforced my belief.  I can still remember my mother telling me that they had replaced his blood with embalming fluid.  It was at that moment that I finally, finally understood that my grandfather was not coming back.

After that, for whatever reason, I began having a fear of ghosts and I used to think they were going to get me at night.  I used to have a transistor radio that I would keep near my bed and I would keep it on, thinking that as long as the radio was on the ghosts could not come.  I used to listen to Dodger games, Angel games, even scratchy nighttime broadcasts of Oakland A's or San Francisco Giants games, just so the radio would be on and the ghosts could not come.  I remember waking up one time at three in the morning and seeing that the radio was off and feeling terrified because that meant that ghosts were now going to come.  Of course, all that had happened was that the radio battery had died.

In later years, I regretted that all of my grandparents had died when I was so young.  I had become a student of history, and my grandparents had lived it.  My maternal grandfather had fought in World War I and had also been part of the union movement.  Both of my grandfathers and one of my grandmothers had also come from czarist Russia, and had left after the 1905 Revolution failed and there was a wave of terror by the czarist regime.  There are many, many things I could have learned from them, had they lived longer. 

In general, I tend to believe that it is best for people to have children later rather than sooner, but one legitimate disadvantage is the impact on the children's relationships with their grandparents.  My parents had children when they were in their late 30s. Had they had children in their late 20s, my sister and I would have had a relationship with my grandparents at least through high school.

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 11th, 2007 at 4:26 pm and is filed under My Kids, My Family. You can trackback from your own site.