June 7, 2019
Dear Everyone:
Yesterday was the 75th anniversary of the
Allied landing at
Normandy Beach
in 1943, commonly called “D-Day”, as this is apparently the standard
military term for “this is when we’ll attack”.
The landing is regarded as the beginning-of-the-end for the
German (Nazi) occupation of Western Europe in
World War II.
I have heard that some historians dispute that there were two World
Wars. Instead, they argue
(historians love to argue) that there was really only one World War,
with a 20-year Intermission.
Whatever.
It is interesting to note that, had there not been one or both World
Wars, most of our family would not be around.
Our two maternal grandparents met because of
World War I (also
known as The Great War, or The War to End All Wars, possibly wrong on
both counts.)
Our grandmother, Bessie, was a headstrong young woman who, to the horror
and dismay of her family, became a
US Army Nurse stationed in France
during World War I. Our
grandfather, Pud, was serving in the Army, also in France, and they met
when he caught a really bad cold, or possibly an early case of the
Spanish Flu.
Both survived the War and returned to their respective homes in
Massachusetts and
California.
Bessie’s family were horrified and dismayed to learn that their
little girl had become engaged to the son of
Portuguese
immigrants and
did all they could to dissuade her from going through with the marriage.
In the meantime, Bessie and Pud corresponded regularly.
In fact, every time she needed ready cash, Bessie would
pawn her
engagement ring, then write to Pud for money to retrieve it.
Ultimately, to the horror and dismay of her family, Pud showed up
on their doorstep one day to claim his bride.
As he explained to Bessie, they had to get married right away
because, as he said, “I can’t afford to be engaged to you anymore.”
Their daughter, our mother, met our father through the offices of World
War II. Specifically, they
both joined the
US Marine Corps when the United States entered the War
following the
Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
So none of us would be around were it not for the two World Wars.
In addition, I discovered that World War II had a direct impact on my
own life. When I first
started working for the Company in downtown
San Francisco, I was told
that we began work at 8:00 am; we went to lunch at 11:30, returning at
12:15; and we got off work at 4:30 pm.
Some years later, I learned that the Company employees who worked
in the “Pleasant Hill” facility only got a 30-minute lunch break instead
of the 45 minutes that San Francisco employees were allowed.
When I asked why, I was told, “Because there’s no place to go for
lunch in ‘Pleasant Hill’.”
That was in the mid-1970’s.
Years later I was helping an Engineering Department with their large
filing room which had become over-filled with paper records.
They literally couldn’t fit any more paper into the filing
cabinets, which completely dominated the very large ground-floor space
they occupied. Upon a random
audit of the file contents, I quickly determined that these people had
never, ever discarded any old records.
For instance, they still had, carefully on file, an internal department
memo stipulating the name and phone number of the person to call in the
event of an emergency in December, 1945.
I pointed out to them that, “Chances are, he’s not at that number
anymore.”
I also ran across an official Company communication “To All San
Francisco Employees”. The
memo stated that “San Francisco Muni is reporting that it is being
overwhelmed.” It went on to
stipulate that “…so many people are pouring into the City to help with
the war effort…” That’s when
I checked the date: 1943.
In 1943, to help stagger the workload on the municipal transportation
system (“Muni”), the Company “volunteered” all of its San Francisco
employees to begin work an hour earlier.
After the War ended, the Company never went back to the previous
9:00 am start time.
That’s why, 30 years later, I started work at 8:00 am.
And the employees in the “Pleasant Hill” offices also started
work at 8:00 am because, “That’s the way we’ve always done it.”
Since World War II, at least.
Thus may traditions begin.
Love, as always,
Pete
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