Memorial Day 2010, Part 3

This is a copy of my dad's discharge papers from the Army.  I love pondering the information contained on this:
- He was barely 18 when he joined the service and had 7 years of grammar school and 2 years of high school
- His battles and campaigns include the Ardennes, Rhineland and Central Europe
- He received the Purple Heart, 3 Bronze Stars and a Good Conduct Metal
- He received immunizations for smallpox, typhoid, tetanus and typhus
- His mustering out pay was $300.
- He was listed as 5'11" and 130 pounds.
- He was 22 when he was honorably discharged in 1945.


There is no doubt that my dad's time in the service changed him "for good."  It changed him for the better because it opened up avenues of education that set him on the course to becoming a middle class aerospace engineer in California.  But he also came back deeply affected by having seen the violence of war.  All of it made him who he was, and I am grateful for who he was because he had such a big, positive effect on me.  I miss him and wish my kids could have known him for many more years.  Today is Memorial Day in the United States, and I invite you to remember and be grateful for those who have served in the armed forces, trying to make the world a better place.  

Memorial Day 2010, Part 2

I'm spending Memorial Day Weekend reminiscing about my dad's service in World War II.  Call it a blog indulgence.  Back to regular programming on Tuesday.
I have less than a dozen pictures of my dad during the time he served in the infantry.  These are from training. The most special thing about the two pictures on the left is that he wrote notes on them before he sent them home to his father. 
The note on one of them reads:
"Father, This is my picture with a full field pack.  The full field pack weighs fifty pounds, inside of it we have a blanket, tent, mess kit, under wears, toilet articles, and tent poles that fold up.  All of this gets rolled up in a tight pack, and on the outside we have a small pick, small shovel, rifle, bayonet, and belt with ammunition."
I found the real treasure on the back of the other one:
"Father, This is my picture. It was taken when we were out on maneuvers. We were sent out on a combat patrol to recognize the front of the enemy.  I was sent out ahead of the patrol, as a scout, and a few minutes later a machine gun cut loose right in front of me, and I was ruled out of the game.  When a man is ruled out, he just sits around and waits, so I decided to take some pictures while I was waiting."
I never remember my father taking photographs, but, given my passion for photography, it thrills me to learn that he decided to take pictures on that day.  It's a connection I never realized we had before.  But one that I will now treasure.

Memorial Day 2010, Part 1 (A Series Repost)

{Today, in honor or Memorial Day, I am reposting a series of three posts from last year that focus on my father and his service to our country. I hope you enjoy this tribute and remember all who fight to keep us free}.
It is Memorial Day Weekend here in the United States. . . a three day holiday which to many people means the beginning of summer and big sales at the mall.  I wanted to take the weekend, though, and use it as a way to record some memories of my dad's service in World War II. Obviously, he did not die during the war (or I wouldn't be here), but he has been gone for over five years now, his birthday was in May and with Father's Day just around the corner, I've been thinking about him a lot. The idea for this series of posts was also inspired by the "Coming Home" photography challenge on The Pioneer Woman blog.  Thanks to Sherry Mescher for bringing it to my attention.  If you're in the mood for altered art instead of my family memories, come back next week, and I'll be featuring the rest of the assemblage menagerie and my twinchie for the Something Completely Different contest.  Also, you can click on this link to see a collage I did for Veteran's Day, 2009.
In 2002, I created a scrapbook page about my father's service which you can see at this link, but here's the journaling:
He was part of the Greatest Generation. Born just before the Great Depression, seventy-plus years of hard living show on his face.  His achievements are not as obvious:  served in World War II; helped build the aerospace industy; raised six kids and sent them all to college; married to his wife for almost fifty years.  During the war, his Division liberated a concentration camp. He received a shrapnel injury and Purple Heart fighting in the Battle of the Bulge. He earned a Bronze Star for retrieving and rescuing a fallen comrade.  We were so proud when Orange County honored Latino veterans, and his banner hung from the rafters during the ceremony. My father. One of the Greatest indeed.
In the pictures above, you can see him holding a slide rule and with a radio.  Although he did not have a lot of education before going into the service, he was a brilliant man who became a radio tech in his infantry unit.  In the group picture, he's standing on the far right.  
He was such a big man.

The Art of Remembering: My Parents

The Recuerda Mi Corazon blog is hosting an October meme called The Art of Remembering.  You can read more about it here.  In Rebecca's words, the purpose of this Sunday exercise is to "share our most personal memories of loved ones and their forever places in our hearts.  As we take time to do the sacred work of remembering we are filled with the presence of all those now gone that once filled our days with love and comfort."  Previously I posted a memory about my father ( here) and my mother (here). Today, I want to share a personal memory about the two of them together and their eternal love.
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                                                                                                                      A Love for All Eternity
Several weeks before my mother passed away, I spent about a week at her hospital bedside. I remember when her demeanor shifted from talking about seeing her grandchildren graduate from college and instead asking if we would be okay once she was gone.  One morning, she said she had been talking to my father, who had passed away the previous year.  She said that he was doing well but he said he missed her "because no one can take care of me the way you do."  And I knew it was true. My mother took great care of my father all through his life.  And he took care of her.  During the last years of my father's life, as he battled the cancer that he knew would kill him, he made a plan.  He created a little red book in which he noted all the monthly household expenses which my mother would face, and he patiently explained to his children where the money was to take care of his wife after he was gone. My mother and father took care of each other in life and expressed their love in the face of death.  I am certain they are caring for each other still. And I pledge to remember that love.

The Art of Remembering: My Father

The Recuerda Mi Corazon blog is hosting an October meme called The Art of Remembering.  You can read more about it here and read this week's memories at this link.  In Rebecca's words, the purpose of this Sunday exercise is to "share our most personal memories of loved ones and their forever places in our hearts.  As we take time to do the sacred work of remembering we are filled with the presence of all those now gone that once filled our days with love and comfort."  As soon as I read about this meme on Gloria's blog, I knew I wanted to participate because I thought it would be the perfect run-up to Dias de los Muertos (a Mexican celebration of remembering those who have passed away that occurs on Nov.1).  I definitely plan to put up a Dias altar this year, especially because I did not do one last year.  So, for my first Sunday in The Art of Remembering, I want to share this memory of my father (you can see a collage I made in his honor up top). 
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My Father, the Balladeer

I spent all day today at the Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Festival selling tamales to support the High School soccer team. Our booth was in a parking lot turned food court which also contained a stage. Mid-morning, a cowboy band began their set, and I heard the familiar chords and lyrics of the cowboy's lament, "The Streets of Laredo." The song brought me immediately back to my childhood. . . a childhood where my father was always singing cowboy songs and Mexican corridos. As he puttered around the house or rocked his children to sleep, he sang The Streets of Laredo, The Yellow Rose of Texas and, my favorite, The Red River Valley.  

One of my favorite stories involved him and his compadres going out drinking while my mother stayed home because she was pregnant.  Apparently, they felt guilty  and so went home and serenaded her in the wee small hours of the night!  

At my father's funeral, my brother asked the vocalists to sing "Red River Valley." There wasn't a dry eye in the house as they sang, "Come and sit by my side, if you love me.  Do not hasten to bid me adieu. Just remember the Red River Valley. And the cowboy who loved you so true."

Dad, I will always remember you.

Never Forget Those Who Served

He was part of the Greatest Generation. Born just before the Great Depression, seventy-plus years of hard living show on his face.  His achievements are not as obvious:  served in World War II; helped build the aerospace industy; raised six kids and sent them all to college; married to his wife for almost fifty years.  During the war, his Division liberated a concentration camp. He received a shrapnel injury and Purple Heart fighting in the Battle of the Bulge. He earned a Bronze Star for retrieving and rescuing a fallen comrade.  We were so proud when Orange County honored Latino veterans, and his banner hung from the rafters during the ceremony. My father. One of the Greatest indeed. Original layout from 2002.
Originally posted November, 2009. Reposted today to mark Memorial Day Weekend in the U.S.

My Favorite Veteran

Today (Thursday) is Veteran's Day in the United States. I've posted before about my dad's service and how proud I am of him. If you click on the label "dad" below, you'll see some of my prior posts about him, including journaling about the photographs from his time in World War II. I did eventually create scrapbook pages with those photographs and there's an excerpt up top, but they're simple pages and I've already posted the journaling.
So, instead, I wanted to share this art journal page with a story about the first time my husband met my father.  I've been wanting to do this page ever since blog friend Sian posted about her husband meeting her grandparents.  I wrote the journaling on the page in the style of a play, in response to a prompt from Shimelle's class.  From a design standpoint, there's a visual triangle going on with the three stars, direction with the eyes looking at each other and a discordance color scheme that still works because of similar tones and lots of neturals.  
Enjoy!

The Meeting


Act I (A University apartment)
Girl: I really think you should meet my parents.
Boy: Alright. I'll come over for brunch when we're home for Winter Break.

Act II (A suburban home)
Father (handing a tie to a young man): Here. Put this on. A man likes to see his future son-in-law in a tie at least once before his daughter's wedding day.
Son: Thanks Dad.

Act III (a different suburban home; it is clearly still morning)
Scene 1: Camera pans over an older man pressing drinks, many drinks, onto a young man in an ill-fitting tie. Young man protests occasionally buts keeps drinking. Music plays in background.
Scene 2: (same home, that evening)
Daughter: So, dad, what did you think of him?
Father: Seemed nice. He drank quite a bit though. (Pauses) But at least he was drinking good stuff.

Dias de Los Muertos Art, Part 2

Here's a variety of art that I have created to pay tribute to and remember my loved ones who have passed away. The first collage is dedicated to my mom, who loved roses and let me have cats. The second collage is for my father - he was the "patron" who loved to tell stories. The house features photos of both my mom and dad. The last photo is my newest tribute - it's for our family dog, Buster, who passed away over Labor Day.