The gift of preserving your family’s unique history is the best gift of all
This flag flew above the Presidio of San Francisco one day last September. I am looking at the carefully folded triangle beneath the glass, part of an unexpected birthday gift, a framed display of medals and progression in rank that forms a visual history of my husband’s military service. It is a family history as well.
Nearly the whole family was on hand last week to celebrate my 90th birthday. Number One Kid was absent as she and her spouse have gone on a trip to Antarctica, as one will do. The window for visiting that southernmost continent is very small.
Meteorologist Greg Albert writes that in fact, the window for visiting closes in late January so now is the time to go. Albert also advises, “Do NOT eat greenish-brown snow! (penguin/seal poop). Do NOT eat yellow snow!! (you know why!!) Do NOT mess with ANY of the Flora or Fauna. Violation of Antarctic Treaty that carries a $10,000 fine per occurrence. Other than that, bring lots of batteries and take lots of pictures! You probably will never go there again.” Clearly the trip of a lifetime.
My oldest son stood up at my birthday party and said, “I know you’ve all read my mother’s stories or heard her tell them. I just want you to know that none of them are true.” Well, he’s an engineer. What can you do.
An important thing I’ve learned in these years of telling stories is that memory is very personal. Memories can be shared, but rarely are they identical. The same thing can happen to two people and be remembered in almost unrecognizably different ways. Our memories can only be from our own viewpoint.
“Sure,” said Kid Number Two. “Parallel universes, I’ve heard of that.” Did I mention he’s an engineer?
But here was a lap full of shared memories. The carefully folded flag flew on Sept. 29 through the courtesy of the Presidio Trust which enclosed photos of the flag flying, with the medals and insignia in the case. No gift could have meant more. We would have been married 70 years the day after Christmas in 2023.
The Presidio is a national park now, but for 218 years, it was an Army post for three nations, belonging first to New Spain and then Mexico and finally passed to the US in 1848. For a new lieutenant and his wife, coping with a toddler and a new baby who was literally sleeping in a dresser drawer, it was a story book fable come true, even though those were the days when an officer in uniform couldn’t carry an umbrella or a bag of groceries, let alone a baby.
I couldn’t cook in the beginning. Sir, as we’d begun to call him, would come in out of the field at 10 p.m. to enjoy whatever I managed to create from a series of hastily opened cans. One night, eating one of my inventions, he asked, “What is this?”
Proud of my creation, I replied, “Campbells Tomato Soup, with Spam. “
“I see, “ he said, “Never serve this to me again.”
The next year, Sir would go to Korea, and I’d fight the battle from home.
The separations in those days were long. Korea and Viet Nam were 18-month tours and then when the sponsor came home, the service wife was expected to turn everything immediately over to him, pretending she’d never run a household, written checks, or planned finances, and that nothing outside of her home had ever interested her. Marriage was rarely idyllic and often stormy.
We kept moving. We were at White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico at the beginning of the Space Age. There are certain things you can count on. Like mice. The year we were in temporary quarters at Fort Campbell in Kentucky, a mouse kept putting his little beady rodent eye to a hole in the ceiling to watch our intimate moments. At least he didn’t hold up number ratings.
Practically immediately another commemorative baby was on the way. It’s amazing, most people would have just sent flowers or candy.
Next came the Air Force Institute of Technology in Dayton, Ohio, then Bangkok and finally back to the Pacific Northwest.
Very soon after retiring from the Army, Sir died without the chance to meet the new members of his growing family, so none of them know the grandfather and Great Grandpa Roger who is memorialized in the display case. He didn’t get to see the grandchildren, now handsome young giants who fill the room with their presence.
As always in family gatherings, there wasn’t time enough to talk to everyone. But when I looked at the display case, it was easy to see that the children had always understood. Our family, like every other, has its own unique memories. Don’t let yours get away.
Where to find Dorothy in January
Catch Dorothy’s podcast, Swimming Upstream Radio Show at https://swimmingupstreamradioshow.com, any time you’re in the mood.
Contact Dorothy by phone at 800-548-9264 or via email at Dorothy@swimmingupstreamradioshow.com.
