Saturday, February 2, 2013

how it was

It was 1943. I was 5 years old. World War II was in full rage. We were fighting Hitler and the Germans on one side and Hirohito and Japan on the other.

We lived in Prichard, Alabama, a suburb of Mobile. My father and my grandfather worked in the shipyards helping build ships to kick Hitler's ass.

We kids were on the alert to spot enemy planes, memorizing their silhouettes. Everyone had blackout cloths for their windows so no light could be seen at night. Air raid sirens would sometimes go off to give us practice in the blackout drill.

The atomic bomb was being built but we did not know it.

Much was rationed. We had stamps that allowed us to buy only so much gas and sugar. Butter was not butter but was a colorless glop requiring the breaking of a red pill into it and kneading it into a more butterlike color.

We kids were involved at school in assembling packages for "the boys overseas." As I recall, these packages at times included bandages.

One morning I awoke and my mother was gone. She was nowhere in the house. My grandmother said that she had gone to the hospital. I was alarmed. My grandmother said she had gone to get a baby.

After some time, my mother came home. My sister Ginny had been born.