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Re: [genpcncfir] Touching Base

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  • Carol Singh
    Dear Rhet, Your experience is similar to mine only I lost my family history instead of my family members experience of the major events in American history
    Message 1 of 14 , Sep 1, 2005
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      Dear Rhet,
      Your experience is similar to mine only I lost my
      family history instead of my family members'
      experience of the major events in American history
      that shaped their lives. Thanks to computers, it now
      takes little time and effort to preserve our histories
      and our experiences.
      You are also right about people whose lives are
      so busy that they have no interest now. Once they
      complete their education and training for their
      careers and/or get their children off to school, they
      look around them and start to think. Like you, I spent
      decades in school and took whatever odd jobs came my
      way to keep my financial house in order. I barely had
      time for the living, so obviously I had no energy to
      expend on the dead. Like you, I have regrets. Instead
      of going to McDonald's or out for a couple of hours at
      my favorite Greek restaurant replete with real-live
      Greeks who almost lifted their American guests from
      their chairs to teach them their dances, I could have
      set aside an hour a week to enrich my life in through
      listening to family and asking questions. I simply
      figured that there were always birth, census, and
      death records, wills, marriages, divorces, and deeds.
      I could get all I needed from these. Of course, I had
      totally factored out of the equation the courthouse
      fires that had destroyed decades of records. What a
      naive little fool I was! Later, Carol

      --- Rhet Wilkinson <rhet@...> wrote:

      > Because they aren't interested now doesn't mean they
      > won't be in years to come and it may be after you
      > aren't here to tell them any more. If you have
      > written them down that will still be here for them
      > to refer to. I had planned to sit down with my
      > grandmother and record the things she was telling me
      > about growing up in Georgia. I was going to do it
      > as soon as I finished getting my masters (while I
      > was teaching during the day and going to school at
      > night) She died a week before I completed my
      > education and I lost the chance. So go ahead and
      > write those things down. One day they will thank
      > you even if you aren't still around to hear them.
      > Rhet
      > ----- Original Message -----
      > From: Evelyn Hendricks
      > To: genpcncfir@yahoogroups.com
      > Sent: Tuesday, August 30, 2005 8:31 PM
      > Subject: Re: [genpcncfir] Touching Base
      >
      >
      > Camp Lejuene received its name from a French
      > general, I believe. I was only
      > twelve at the time, but it seems I remember
      > something about it. Some people
      > thought some others should have received the
      > honor.
      > I think I will start writing down some of these
      > things. So far as I know my
      > children are not interested, although I see a few
      > signs of interest in the
      > oldest one. He is my step-son and he is fifty
      > eight now. Of my other two,
      > one is fifty and the other is forty-nine. The
      > step-son is the only married
      > one and his wife is slightly interested. Maybe if
      > I wrote down some things
      > it would spur her on.
      > I enjoy sharing all the memories you write about.
      > Evelyn
      > ----- Original Message -----
      > From: "Carol Singh" <csinghworthington@...>
      > To: <genpcncfir@yahoogroups.com>
      > Sent: Tuesday, August 30, 2005 7:57 PM
      > Subject: Re: [genpcncfir] Touching Base
      >
      >
      > > Dear Evelyn,
      > > I love what you had to say. It conveys
      > perfectly
      > > how one's actually living through an experience
      > and
      > > conveying it to others takes those who did not
      > share
      > > those times and gives them an insider's
      > perspective.
      > > Instead of being on the outside looking in, they
      > find
      > > themselves on the inside looking out.
      > > Not to portray myself as a "senior" citizen
      > or as
      > > heaven forbid "elderly," I have vivid memories
      > of the
      > > homefront myself. I grew up on County Home Road.
      > I
      > > learned to identify fighter planes like a pro
      > because
      > > they were always flying overhead. Many of my kin
      > were
      > > stationed at Camp LeJeune before heading
      > overseas. In
      > > the evenings Mama and Uncle Mark talked in low
      > voices
      > > about who had just been sent and who was likely
      > to be
      > > "called up."
      > > I am so glad you shared the story of Camp
      > > LeJeune. I had always wanted to know when it
      > came into
      > > being. I have long been curious about its name,
      > too.
      > > "Le jeune" in French means "The Young" or as we
      > would
      > > probably say, "Young People."
      > > I can imagine that your mother's heart was
      > in her
      > > throat when your brother was called into
      > service. I
      > > remember my own brother in Viet Nam. Mama,
      > already ill
      > > with the effects of treatment for her cancer,
      > really
      > > did not need the added strain. All her life she
      > had
      > > kept us safe, yet now she had to let one of us
      > go and
      > > that without the benefit of her protection and
      > > counsel.
      > > As for World War II, I experienced the
      > black
      > > outs, the rations, the patriotism. The home
      > front was
      > > merely an extension of the battlefield. There
      > soldiers
      > > were risking their lives for us. The least we
      > could do
      > > was to provide well for them, gladly and without
      > > complaint.
      > > Perhaps the most interesting thing that
      > happened
      > > to me was awakening one bright, summer morning
      > in my
      > > bed with the window open protected only by the
      > screen.
      > > It was not a modern, cubbyhole of a window, but
      > those
      > > old-fashioned full-length windows that a grown
      > person
      > > could easily climb out of. I was idly enjoying
      > the
      > > clear, blue sky and listening to bird song and
      > bees
      > > buzzing when suddenly there came the roar of a
      > fighter
      > > plane.
      > > A flash of shadow over my screen, and the
      > plane
      > > zoomed past almost in reach of my hand if there
      > had
      > > been no screen. My impulse was to scream, but
      > there
      > > was not time. The next thing I knew I saw the
      > plane
      > > touch down in the road in front of the house.
      > > I dressed quickly and ran outside where
      > Mama and
      > > Uncle Mark and every other grown-up had run to
      > see
      > > what had happened and to offer assistance.
      > > Fortunately, the pilot had made a completely
      > safe
      > > landing, but he could not fly the plane. People
      > parked
      > > their cars at distances on either side of the
      > plane to
      > > block traffic until his plane was running again.
      > This
      > > experience made me feel even closer to the war.
      > > Afterwards, of course, I never saw a plane
      > flying
      > > overhead without recalling that morning when a
      > pilot
      > > came calling.
      > > The rations had their bright side, too. We
      > were
      > > no longer able to purchase white cane sugar, so
      > Mama
      > > bought cake decorating sugar. There was yellow
      > sugar,
      > > pink sugar, blue sugar, and green sugar. I got
      > to
      > > choose the color for each meal, and I chose
      > plates and
      > > napkins to complement the color of the sugar. I
      > > enjoyed waiting for Mama to come back from
      > grocery
      > > shopping to see what colors the sugar would be.
      > That
      > > was the greatest thing about the war. It brought
      > new
      > > color into my life.
      > > After the war, meal planning was never the
      > same
      > > with the return of the white sugar. Fortunately,
      > our
      > > kin made it home. Several uncles were medics and
      > > related their experiences. I was all ears and
      > full of
      > > questions. They answered and explained things to
      > me
      > > the same as if I were any grown-up friend. As a
      > > result, I grew up thinking of them as my big
      > brothers
      > > instead of uncles. Their experiences really
      > brought us
      > > closer together. Later, Carol
      > >
      > > --- Evelyn Hendricks <rebh@...> wrote:
      > >
      > > > I very well remember World War II and the day
      > Pearl
      > > > Harbor was bombed. My
      > > > family had moved to Jacksonville, NC just a
      > couple
      > > > of months before. The
      > > > government was hastily building the Army Base
      > at
      > > > Holly Ridge, just a few
      > > > miles away, and Camp Lejuene which surrounded
      > the
      > > > town of Jacksonville. Camp
      >
      === message truncated ===


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    • Carol Singh
      Dear Evelyn, I doubt I showed any signs of interest either prior to reaching 60. Forgive me, I am of course only 60+ 1 day old now! Still, I was tremendously
      Message 2 of 14 , Sep 1, 2005
      • 0 Attachment
        Dear Evelyn,
        I doubt I showed any signs of interest either
        prior to reaching 60. Forgive me, I am of course only
        60+ 1 day old now! Still, I was tremendously
        interested. My life was just too hectic between
        children and school and work and sleep for me to crowd
        in anything else. Additionally, we were without the
        computers that have changed record sharing and file
        maintenance. These really sparked my interest--these
        and the accessibility here at J. Sargeant Reynolds to
        the World Wide Web a few years back when our college
        opted to go for it. It changed my life. It gave me
        back my family. Later, Carol

        --- Evelyn Hendricks <rebh@...> wrote:

        > Camp Lejuene received its name from a French
        > general, I believe. I was only
        > twelve at the time, but it seems I remember
        > something about it. Some people
        > thought some others should have received the honor.
        > I think I will start writing down some of these
        > things. So far as I know my
        > children are not interested, although I see a few
        > signs of interest in the
        > oldest one. He is my step-son and he is fifty eight
        > now. Of my other two,
        > one is fifty and the other is forty-nine. The
        > step-son is the only married
        > one and his wife is slightly interested. Maybe if I
        > wrote down some things
        > it would spur her on.
        > I enjoy sharing all the memories you write about.
        > Evelyn
        > ----- Original Message -----
        > From: "Carol Singh" <csinghworthington@...>
        > To: <genpcncfir@yahoogroups.com>
        > Sent: Tuesday, August 30, 2005 7:57 PM
        > Subject: Re: [genpcncfir] Touching Base
        >
        >
        > > Dear Evelyn,
        > > I love what you had to say. It conveys
        > perfectly
        > > how one's actually living through an experience
        > and
        > > conveying it to others takes those who did not
        > share
        > > those times and gives them an insider's
        > perspective.
        > > Instead of being on the outside looking in, they
        > find
        > > themselves on the inside looking out.
        > > Not to portray myself as a "senior" citizen
        > or as
        > > heaven forbid "elderly," I have vivid memories of
        > the
        > > homefront myself. I grew up on County Home Road. I
        > > learned to identify fighter planes like a pro
        > because
        > > they were always flying overhead. Many of my kin
        > were
        > > stationed at Camp LeJeune before heading overseas.
        > In
        > > the evenings Mama and Uncle Mark talked in low
        > voices
        > > about who had just been sent and who was likely to
        > be
        > > "called up."
        > > I am so glad you shared the story of Camp
        > > LeJeune. I had always wanted to know when it came
        > into
        > > being. I have long been curious about its name,
        > too.
        > > "Le jeune" in French means "The Young" or as we
        > would
        > > probably say, "Young People."
        > > I can imagine that your mother's heart was in
        > her
        > > throat when your brother was called into service.
        > I
        > > remember my own brother in Viet Nam. Mama, already
        > ill
        > > with the effects of treatment for her cancer,
        > really
        > > did not need the added strain. All her life she
        > had
        > > kept us safe, yet now she had to let one of us go
        > and
        > > that without the benefit of her protection and
        > > counsel.
        > > As for World War II, I experienced the black
        > > outs, the rations, the patriotism. The home front
        > was
        > > merely an extension of the battlefield. There
        > soldiers
        > > were risking their lives for us. The least we
        > could do
        > > was to provide well for them, gladly and without
        > > complaint.
        > > Perhaps the most interesting thing that
        > happened
        > > to me was awakening one bright, summer morning in
        > my
        > > bed with the window open protected only by the
        > screen.
        > > It was not a modern, cubbyhole of a window, but
        > those
        > > old-fashioned full-length windows that a grown
        > person
        > > could easily climb out of. I was idly enjoying the
        > > clear, blue sky and listening to bird song and
        > bees
        > > buzzing when suddenly there came the roar of a
        > fighter
        > > plane.
        > > A flash of shadow over my screen, and the
        > plane
        > > zoomed past almost in reach of my hand if there
        > had
        > > been no screen. My impulse was to scream, but
        > there
        > > was not time. The next thing I knew I saw the
        > plane
        > > touch down in the road in front of the house.
        > > I dressed quickly and ran outside where Mama
        > and
        > > Uncle Mark and every other grown-up had run to see
        > > what had happened and to offer assistance.
        > > Fortunately, the pilot had made a completely safe
        > > landing, but he could not fly the plane. People
        > parked
        > > their cars at distances on either side of the
        > plane to
        > > block traffic until his plane was running again.
        > This
        > > experience made me feel even closer to the war.
        > > Afterwards, of course, I never saw a plane
        > flying
        > > overhead without recalling that morning when a
        > pilot
        > > came calling.
        > > The rations had their bright side, too. We
        > were
        > > no longer able to purchase white cane sugar, so
        > Mama
        > > bought cake decorating sugar. There was yellow
        > sugar,
        > > pink sugar, blue sugar, and green sugar. I got to
        > > choose the color for each meal, and I chose plates
        > and
        > > napkins to complement the color of the sugar. I
        > > enjoyed waiting for Mama to come back from grocery
        > > shopping to see what colors the sugar would be.
        > That
        > > was the greatest thing about the war. It brought
        > new
        > > color into my life.
        > > After the war, meal planning was never the
        > same
        > > with the return of the white sugar. Fortunately,
        > our
        > > kin made it home. Several uncles were medics and
        > > related their experiences. I was all ears and full
        > of
        > > questions. They answered and explained things to
        > me
        > > the same as if I were any grown-up friend. As a
        > > result, I grew up thinking of them as my big
        > brothers
        > > instead of uncles. Their experiences really
        > brought us
        > > closer together. Later, Carol
        > >
        > > --- Evelyn Hendricks <rebh@...> wrote:
        > >
        > > > I very well remember World War II and the day
        > Pearl
        > > > Harbor was bombed. My
        > > > family had moved to Jacksonville, NC just a
        > couple
        > > > of months before. The
        > > > government was hastily building the Army Base at
        > > > Holly Ridge, just a few
        > > > miles away, and Camp Lejuene which surrounded
        > the
        > > > town of Jacksonville. Camp
        > > > Lejuene had not even been named at the time.
        > That
        > > > came a few months later.
        > > > We were standing in line waiting for our turn to
        > buy
        > > > a ticket to the only
        > > > movie theatre in the county. The Marines were
        > the
        > > > majority of people in the
        > > > line. They were seeking a little entertainment
        > in
        > > > the little village which
        > > > had little to offer at that time. A marine in
        > front
        > > > of me was smoking. When
        > > > he put down his arm the hand holding the
        > cigarette
        > > > got a little to close to
        > > > me and the cigarette burned my hand. Just
        > briefly.
        > > > Before the movie was over
        > > > the military police was in the theatre gathering
        > up
        > > > the Marines and sending
        > > > them back to the base. They emptied the
        > restaurants
        > > > and every other place
        > > > they could find them. When we left the theatre
        > the
        > > > news was all over the
        >
        === message truncated ===


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