Grandpa’s Stories: Fighting Fire With–What?
Stories of My Dad’s Life
My Dad has so many stories. He has entertained three generations with his stories now. I loved them when I was little, my kids loved them and now my grandchildren listen. Usually, they are stories about some outrageous adventure from his childhood (in which it was never his fault–it was his friend, that bad boy, Paul) but many are about his near-death brushes. That he reached the age of 93 is nothing short of miraculous. He has more lives than ten cats.
We finally decided we need to record his stories for posterity. I’ve started interviewing him for videos. I’ve decided I will post “Grandpa’s Stories” on Fridays. I’m sorry I didn’t start recording my mom’s stories. They weren’t as dramatic as my dad’s but still interesting. Now she has lost so much memory she can’t remember stories of her childhood even if I prompt her with stories I remember her telling in the past.
Dad can’t tell very many at once. Parkinson’s is weakening his voice. His voice is losing volume on the one I’m posting today and I had to edit the beginning because he couldn’t think of the name of the airfield, so there was a lot of dead space at the beginning as he was thinking. I’ll give you a little synopsis.
Scene: Buckley Field, 1942
This story is short and not as dramatic as some he tells, but since we have had so many forest fires over the last month and our air is smoke-filled, it seemed the right time to share this one. He was eighteen years old, just starting basic training at Buckley Field in Colorado. You history buffs, here’s a link for you. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buckley_Air_Force_Base A brush fire was out of control in the state so they sent raw recruits to help fight the fire. Here is his story of what happened.
Have a good caregiving day and a great weekend,