Veterans Day


Mom and Dad early in the war

dinner for the in-laws, right after the war

I’m not sure at what point one’s personal history becomes part of the broader spectrum of human experience.  It may sometimes make a connection from the origin of that history .  Archeologists rejoice when they find a broken clay jar that once contained olive oil or wine thousands of years ago, or some edict written by hand on vellum affecting lives of thousands under an antique monarch.  Certainly, a piece of history like Charles Lindberg’s plane, The Spirit of St. Louis, at the Smithsonian in Washington brings more chills to the public because of its great significance in the history of man’s attempts to fly.  Something already famous, like King Tut’s sarcophagus covered in shimmering gold will bring shivers to most viewers.  It’s something most of us knew about before even seeing it, so it becomes a kind of shared history when we talk to others who have also seen it.

When I found the boxes of letters written by my father during WWII, I struggled about whether those personal communications would have much significance to the general public, especially those who were not alive during those years 1941-1945.  I decided that the backdrop of World War II would be inclusive of pop culture, including music and poster art.  It would include many references to a time that was surely our finest hour, when we as a nation were together in a cause of world importance against a powerful evil that might otherwise actually have swallowed up the world had it not been for our collective resolution and united with other nations to take a stand.  In that light, every letter home from every soldier in every corner of that massive conflict must surely have significance.  Dad served as a sergeant in the United States Army in London during the early part of WWII and then served in the South Pacific on the Island of Guam for the remainder of the war.

We were fighting for home and for everything we held dear along with the English, the French, the Belgians, the Dutch, whose lives had also been plundered by Nazis, Fascists, and the Empire of Japan.  I don’t know that soldiers thought of the grand picture of world peace during the many parts they played in that war.  I believe that the things that kept them going were not just the eloquent speeches by Churchill and Roosevelt, but rather the memories of sweethearts left at home, babies on the way, sitting down to Sunday dinners with family, going to the movies or soda fountains, watching ball games.  That yearning to return home is as old as history itself and always manages to give a human face to incidents on the world stage, maybe especially in times of war.

Our family in 1948

Yes, the letters our soldiers wrote home still have a universal connection to what makes us all human.  My greatest hope in creating this part of the blog was that others who read it would have “eureka” moments too about their own parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers, from that or any other time and wish to honor those people in whatever way possible.  So, if you have old boxes of letters, trunks in the attic, family photo albums, please sit down one afternoon and look through those mementos of your own history, and you will discover that what you find there is part of all our history, human history, all that experience that we share as a mortal species through every picture of smiling loved ones in front of Christmas trees or over birthday cakes.  Laugh, cry, write about your sentiments, and perhaps decide what you would like to leave behind for others to find seventy years from now as a reminder that you were once here too.   JB

About John

About John John Bolinger was born and raised in Northwest Indiana, where he attended Ball State University and Purdue University, receiving his BS and MA from those schools. Then he taught English and French for thirty-five years at Morton High School in Hammond, Indiana before moving to Colorado, where he resided for ten years before moving to Florida. Besides COME SEPTEMBER, Journey of a High School Teacher, John's other books are ALL MY LAZY RIVERS, an Indiana Childhood, and COME ON, FLUFFY, THIS AIN'T NO BALLET, a Novel on Coming of Age, all available on as paperbacks and Kindle books. Alternately funny and touching, COME SEPTEMBER, conveys the story of every high school teacher’s struggle to enlighten both himself and his pupils, encountering along the way, battles with colleagues, administrators, and parents through a parade of characters that include a freshman boy for whom the faculty code name is “Spawn of Satan,” to a senior girl whose water breaks during a pop-quiz over THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. Through social change and the relentless march of technology, the human element remains constant in the book’s personal, entertaining, and sympathetic portraits of faculty, students, parents, and others. The audience for this book will certainly include school teachers everywhere, teenagers, parents of teens, as well as anyone who appreciates that blend of humor and pathos with which the world of public education is drenched. The drive of the story is the narrator's struggle to become the best teacher he can be. The book is filled with advice for young teachers based upon experience of the writer, advice that will never be found in college methods classes. Another of John's recent books is Mum's the Word: Secrets of a Family. It is the story of his alcoholic father and the family's efforts to deal with or hide the fact. Though a serious treatment of the horrors of alcoholism, the book also entertains in its descriptions of the father during his best times and the humor of the family's attempts to create a façade for the outside world. All John's books are available as paperbacks and Kindle readers on Amazon, and also as paperbacks at Barnes & Noble. John's sixth book is, Growing Old in America: Notes from a Codger was released on June 15, 2014. John’s most recent book is a novel titled Resisting Gravity, A Ghost Story, published the summer of 2018 View all posts by John →
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.