There's Nothing More Nuclear (reposted with edit)

My father grew up in a family of 14. It takes me a minute to remember all the names. He quit school in 8th grade-as did all the children but the baby. My aunt-the youngest in the whole family-was the ONLY one to graduate.

He had to go to work and help support the family.His father was a Polish immigrant (LEGAL) who worked in the coal mines. In fact, although he made it into his 90's, he suffered from black lung.

The mines in the little Pennsylvania town had closed down. The folks there-blacks, whites, Poles and Italians-were all in the same boat. They were out of work and poor. Nearly everyone had an outhouse. There's no odor more nuclear or seat more uncomfortable.

There was no public assistance. There were no food stamps. No programs to help with utilities. Credit card? Didn't exist. Gpvernment cheese hadn't been offered yet;at least not here.

Dad grew up that way. The house wasn't anything to write home about but it was comfortable. The town didn't have a thing to offer except the mines and nothing when they closed down.

One of my aunts told me how they were lucky to get an orange for Christmas. I never thought of my dad as poor until i learned years later how he actually grew up.

They planted gardens to make sure they had food. When dad grew up he left the town and moved to northern Pennsylvania as a self made man. He became an interior decorator after the war.

I think i remember someone in the family telling me dad went to school for his trade. I'm not sure but whether he did or not didn't matter.

He worked hard. He was very talented. He was self taught much of what he knew;that is,the skills he missed [such as reading and writing] from his lack of education as a youngster.

Smartest man i knew.

He built the ranch style home we grew up in. He did all the plumbing and electrical work in addition to construction and design.

It was amazing. We were middle class, probably lower middle class but we didn't want for anything. I just couldn't have everything i wanted as a kid but we had clothes on our back and food on the table. He provided what he was able including toys he could afford. He bought us comic books on Sundays.I just had to have the super heroes.

He was a real bugger about us going to school and getting a decent education. Honest to God we learned to read early from comic books. Mom and dad never objected. My bike was the best thing they'd ever bought for me. Mom sewed a lot of my clothes. Keep in mind, we were NOT poor. They bought the first tv anyone in the family had and all the relatives came up once a week to watch a few shows. In those days it was mostly great westerns.Mom had to watch Lawrance Welk (i couldn't stand the music). I had to watch The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. She was ambivalent about them. She really had no idea what the fuss was about.

We attended Catholic school that went to 8th grade. Mom and Dad were devout Catholics anyway.

Dad took his skills and did contract work to make a living. It had its ups and downs so dad opened up a paint store first in the downtown area and then at home in the garage. He hoped it would supplement his income.

He did ok until a franchised brand name store moved into the town. He ended up having to take regular employment totally unrelated to his contract work and paint store.

It gave dad a steady income right up until the time he finally retired. Dad was a perfectionist. If you were able to hire him you were getting the best.

He had fought in the African theater WWII and married mom when he returned. They were married 60 + yrs.untiil the day dad passed away. Dad died on July 23rd from Parkinson's and mom on June 23rd from cardiac arrest brought on by aggressive cancer.

My point is nothing was handed to him. It took years to pay off the mortgage on the house and property. They didn't have credit cards back in the day. You had to save if you needed to purchase anything of consequence ie furniture.

They BOTH grew up during the Great Depression. They knew how to save, survive and make do with what they had. Dad would use anything till it fell apart. Sometimes he got carried away with it. Picture duct tape on a garden hose.

Their parents couldn't give them squat. Mom's childhood was a little better than dad's but then it wouldn't take much for that. Mom grew up with indoor plumbing; that was a plus.

They had a hen house out back and a good size garden. You could gather the eggs. Grandpa would kill the chickens for dinner.

We kids got a real kick out of seeing the little peeps when they hatched. As for dad's parents they had nothing to compare.When you had to use the grandparents (dad's side)outhouse that was quite an experience.

The street had rows of them. The town was especially hot in the summer too. i don't think i need to describe the odor. Imagine having to get a call from nature in the winter time during the night.

It wasn't all bad memories; grandma made the best perogies. I have never had any that compared to hers.

My Italian uncle had an Italian restaurant in the town and he made sure we ate well [free of charge]when we were there for a visit. The restaurant won awards.

He passed and his wife sold the business along with the recipes. I would love to mention the name of this great place but without permission i have to respect the privacy of every person i've mentioned including my mom and dad.Wish i could publicize it; was something to brag about.It's still around too.

Dad was not ashamed of where he came from. He never talked about it though. We had to hear it from other people.

People said Dad was a perfectionist. I agree. Whatever he did he wanted to do his best. Some people say it as an insult, some people say it as a compliment. I think because of his background he had a big heart for anyone who needed help He would actually give you the shirt off his back if he knew you needed one.

Their generation was tough. Their generation was willing to make sacrifices. They were patriots willing to give their lives for their country.

Mom and dad had to postpone their wedding due to the war. They wanted to be sure he even came back so they waited. They never expected anything to be handed to them.

After dad retired he was diagnosed with Parksinson's. He was a man who spent most of his life working even during retirement.

He always had to keep busy. The one break he would take was to do some hunting-loved it.There were other times he'd sit and watch the hummingbirds from the living room window. This gruff hardworking red head loved to watch hummingbirds. There were a few times he didn't think they were coming. He was honestly down in the dumps.

He made sure they were taken care of.

There was a step in the disease where he had to give up his hunting but what really killed him was giving up his gardening.

He took a lot of pride in it. He had a huge garden he babied all the time. He would draw up plans in the winter for the garden he was going to plant when winter ended. Mom considered getting him a small greenhouse. I'll have to see if i can find the photos of him in the garden. His pride was justified.Man, you had to eat his sweet corn on the cob.

It was very difficult for him. when we had to put up the car keys. When he gave up driving that meant his independence. I think that was one of the most difficult decisions he had to make.

Some of you may know what it's like to finally have to take the car keys away from the parents.He was sharp mentally but going down hill physically.

The last thing he asked for and the only thing he ever asked for was a new American flag to fly on July 4. Mom got him one.

He passed away on July 23

at home in bed.He died peacefully.Mom called at 3:00 a.m. to have me go over and say goodbye.

Mom passed away a year later on June 23 in the chair where dad used to sit and watch 'his' hummingbirds return. She died of cardiac arrest brought on by an aggressive cancer. She had beaten it time and time again. She lived a full life through everything and faced her and dad's disease like a trooper.She was so brave. Their generation could handle adversity with grace.

Dad's Hometown