I was raised on a tobacco farm in North Carolina by my
grandmother.
My parents divorced when I was 3 or 4, and my mother dropped my
two younger brothers and me off to be raised by grandma. She went
up north, to Connecticut where the job opportunities were better,
and we saw her once or twice a year when she drove down.
Grandma was born in 1900, so by the time I came along in 1959,
she wasn’t that confident how much longer she would live. She
often prayed that she would live long enough to see her grand
babies grow up.
Grandma died in October 1996, at the age of 1996. When she died,
I was out jogging on the island of Okinawa, where I suddenly felt
VERY weak. I sat down on the sidewalk, they laid back on the
grass for a few minutes. After a few minutes, I got up, and
went back to my room, took a shower, and then answered the door
to have my aircraft commander tell me that I need to call the Red
Cross. That’s when my mom told me that grandma had passed.
Around 1966 or 1967, one if my uncles looked at me and asked my
grandma if she though that I could help out on the farm. She
shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t know, let’s see,” and
that started my life working on the farm. I started working as
a very small child, and have worked EVER SINCE!
When I was 9, my grandmother bought me a .22 rifle with money I
had earned on the farm. I would come home from school, grab my
rifle, and wander off into the woods and swamps near my house
with my rifle and a box of bullets… hunting squirrels.
We were DIRT POOR but NEVER went hungry. We always had a
garden… as I do to this day, but also ate the fish and wildlife
that I hunted, and relatives always shared generously!
My grandma taught me to cook, clean, sew, do the laundry in an
old-fashioned wringer-type washer, and take care of myself, when
I was still VERY young.
Today, I am thankful for all that she taught me; I am
self-sufficient.
After high school, I had good enough grades to be the first
member of my immediate family to get into college.
At NCSU, I worked THREE part-time jobs to cover my college
expenses.
When I graduated in 1982, I was also commissioned a 2LT in the
U.S.A.F., becoming the first officer in my immediate family. My
father, and all of my other 4 brothers served in the military.
Oh, when my father and mother separated, he took the two oldest
kids, and continued his military career… and remarried FOUR
times. I think that I later met all of his other wives.
After training as a C-130 navigator, I showed up at Pope AFB, NC,
fully-trained, and was told not to even worry about checking into
my unit. Instead, I signed a power-of-attorney allowing another
unit member to accept my household goods.
A week after arriving at my first permanent duty station I was
off to my first of SEVEN wars (or conflicts other than war) that
I would take part in during my 20-year + 10-month career.
In October 1983, I took part in Operation Urgent Fury, Grenada.
That was the first time that I was shot at, and the first of many
times that I hauled HR’s… human remains.
Today, at age 63, I am thankful for all that life has taught me.
I also HATE war, and love all people… even my enemies.
An old man’s story…
Willie