December 30, 2016. WWII Museum, Dad's Dress Uniform.

December 30, 2016.  WWII Museum, Dad's Dress Uniform.  We made the short drive from the north side of Lake Pontchartrain to downtown New Orleans early this morning.  The New Orleans skyline was prominent from the 25-mile long causeway over the lake.  Surprisingly, the traffic was light and I adroitly maneuvered Harvey along the narrow city streets.

Several months back, I received a letter from one of the museum curators informing me that Dad's uniform would be on display for three months.  I began planning to see it.  Today was the culmination of that plan.  Dad's uniform has been hanging in closets since his return to the states in July, 1945.  It was in the duplex rented by the folks on Edgerton in Trumann.  It moved to 512 Kentucky Street, 1704 Manning in Hannibal, 4515 Westridge in Kansas City, 1811 Greenwood in Jonesboro, in turn.  After Mom's death in 2006, I brought it home with me.

I didn't know what to do with it so it was stored in the cedar closet at our house.  Several years ago, I contacted the museum and spoke with one of the curators - there are six.  I told him the story behind the uniform and he agreed to accept it for the museum.  I was elated.  In January, 2014, Annie and I delivered it to the museum.  We were told that it would be displayed with other WWII artifacts representing the various branches of the armed services.  The curator took us to the display area and told us that different uniforms are displayed quarterly.  It has taken two years for Dad to rotate into the display case.  There is a very nice plaque detailing the story behind the uniform.

Annie and I stayed at the display for some time.  Since we had arrived when the museum opened, there was no one else in the area.  We lingered, admiring the uniform and taking pictures.  Dad would have been in his mid-20s when he wore the uniform.  It seemed small, yet remarkably well-proportioned.  Dad was in the peak of physical fitness in those years.  I said earlier that he would be proud that his uniform is displayed in the premier museum covering the war.  As I stood so close to the display and the uniform he courageously wore, I was very proud, too.
 
The Greatest Generation came home from the war and put it behind them.  They began their families, worked hard and enjoyed the American Dream.  They declined to discuss their war experiences and got on with life.  Yet, they were marked by their experience.  Dad was no different.  He never talked about his experiences.  He was just another quiet American hero.  I am proud of his service to our country and I am proud to be his son.

From Beaumont, Texas, goodnight.