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Showing posts with label PA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PA. Show all posts

Friday, June 7, 2013

Sepia Saturday 180 Life must be lived with fun

In this week's prompt, Alan  mentioned life and what about it?  I saw this quote recently,  "There are two great days in your life, the day you are born and the day you figure out why." The why is always the mystery isn't it?    I love our Sepia posts with glimpses of life and times here and there and what it meant and as in this prompt, what happened behind the scenes.  Today I went to my late Uncle Carl's albums, where I can always find something to share.  I laughed out loud at these photos, you will see why and maybe you will too.  I have written  a lot here about Uncle Carl, Mom's brother,  who took many photos and enjoyed himself  and life especially when he was out with the guys hunting, fishing, or just hanging out playing cards. 

It's 1982, turkey hunting season, sometime in the fall and it is time for the guys to arrive at their camp in Avonmore, Pennsylvania "outpost 39" as painted on Uncle Carl's sign in front of the place.  Avonmore is a borough in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, United States. The population was 820 at the 2000 census. Area: 1.6 sq miles (4.144 km) near the Kiskiminetas River.

 We have been watching TV reruns on the A&E cable channel of "Duck Dynasty" which is hysterically funny and is all the rage.  It is true to life  about a Louisiana family of sons, father, uncle, and their Duck Call business.  Uncle Sy is my favorite character in the series.   Well, Uncle Carl and his friends were far ahead of the Duck men.   They had their own comedy episodes.

What is this all about?  Turkey hunting?  Will the turkey fall down in hysterical laughter when this man appears?  I have shared here before, these men were out for fun...
On the back Carl wrote, "Cliff Andrea" I  do not know him. But this is funny!  Deer antlers with curls and an automobile insignia atop.. Fishing pole?


Sure enough, here they go on the turkey hunt. Notice the outhouse in the back...
and the serious hunter.  On the back Carl wrote Rich Debick & Cliff.  
 Is that a turkey call in Cliff's mouth?


At least one foul  was claimed evidenced above  by two more of the guys who look grizzly, camouflage and all. Some of the turkeys are huge and this one looks pretty big to me.  At least they are not wearing antlers on their head. 

I often buy  comical cards to send to folks on birthdays, etc.  I think I can use some of Uncle's photos to make my own...I need the right sentiments printed along with the photo.  

This  has been my Sepia Saturday post.  For more laughs and  so much more interesting information, check out the link to the host site where so many others have so much to share.
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2013/06/sepia-saturday-180-8-june-2013.html

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Simple reset and all is well.....hmmm

Sky at Mt. Top Tarentum night before
All is well with my electronic  gadgets once again.  A quick trip to the local Verizon store with a simple reset there got the tablet to running easily, perhaps I shoulda' tried that instead of the dirty words I used.  Really I did not know about that, as most of you know electronic devices no longer come with instructions printed, they are all online.  Yes, well when you cannot  get them online to access the directions you are up the old creek without a paddle and/or even without a boat!
We had a rainy day yesterday here in PA, what else is new, when we are here we ususally have rain.

Jerry has a sore throat, he says no big deal, but I flash back to last October on our southern trip where he ended up with  almost pneumonia.  So he will stay put at the motor home today while I am out and about with friends. 

Here we are at Beermuda,  left to right around the table
Linda, Pam, Carlie, Jerry, me and Peggy
We had a fun gathering yesterday despite the rain at a new place to us, Beermuda, local on Freeport Road.  What a great place to eat and sample all sorts of beers.  I enjoyed a pumpkin ale and then a framboise...even sampled the banana brew.  Jerry being a purist stuck with Budweiser. Their drafts change all the time and well, you just have to go there to see for yourself.   All the food was overly plentiful, and the amazing thing, nothing not even the delicious french fries that some had on their salads were deep fried,  a healthy choice, baked and no one complained.  I downed a half steak hoagie ala Philly style but with a blue cheese dressing ummmmm.  Jerry's pulled pork was a mound too high to even try to bite down as a sandwich but he worked it with fork.    I bought a personally selected and mixed up 6 pack to take home including a brand "Wild Bitch."  We all agreed this is a great place to meet.  Linda says they go there frequently; Dayna could not join us as she had a leak in her  kitchen with the rain and that required sitting and waiting.

In the sunshine interim yesterday afternoon, we went to Greenwood cemetery to see all my people.  Then we went over to St. Mary's where I tried to find other older family graves, there was no one at the site  but roaming I did find a few by accident, however not the ones I wanted.  Oh well, another trip, those folks aren't going anywhere.  

Friday, July 8, 2011

Bear Hunting 1948-49 Sepia Saturday Week 82 (Click here to the hostsite)

Off theme again, but with more photos from Uncle Carl of about 1948-49, a bear hunt in Kane PA.  I know that Kane is south of Erie, PA but learned more: Nestled at the edge of the Allegheny National Forest, Kane has a rich history. It was named for the Civil War leader of Pennsylvania's Bucktail Regiment,Thomas L. Kane, who founded the town in the early 1860s. General Kane was wounded in battle and was taken as a prisoner of war as well. He also fought at the Battle of Gettysburg, and is revered by the Mormons for single-handedly helping avert an all-out war between the Mormons and the U.S. government in the late 1800s. A county in Utah is named for him, and a full-size statue of Kane occupies a central position in the rotunda of the Utah State Capital building in Salt Lake City. Although not a Mormon himself, General Kane was repulsed by the persecution of the Mormons and fought for their human rights. Kane also was a friend of several U.S. Presidents, including Grant, Buchanan, and Polk.  His brother, Elisha Kent Kane was, himself, a famous Arctic explorer and painter whose death celebration rivaled that of President Lincoln. A crater on the moon , a US naval ship, and an Arctic waterway are named for him. In 1921.  Dr. Evan O'Neill Kane made medical surgical history by removing his own appendix.  Certainly the area  was founded by stalwarts. 

Mook and the Bear Hunter

I also read that Kane boasts being the black cherry capitol of the world and certainly the bear would like cherries too.   I recall being a young girlie, not even in school,  maybe 4-5 years old when Uncle Carl said something about going bear hunting up north.  I became upset because I knew the story well of Goldilocks and the 3 Bears.  However,  he assured me that they would certainly not be after those bears. So when I found these photos with little information other than Bear Hunt 1949 and some names of more men unknown to me, I wonder if this is that very event.  The first photo shows a man, "Mook" leaning on the front of a car and  "Bear  Hunter" standing beside.  Jerry tells me the car is about 1947-48.  

Carl holding bear trap
Just this week national news reported that a man was killed by a Grizzly bear in Yellowstone Park.  There has been a lot of coverage about  what to do if one encounters a bear in the woods and  how to proceed whether in the presence of a grizzly or black bear.   I certainly would not be able to discern the type of bear if I ever would encounter one; I will stick to the more civilized areas to avoid any such encounter, although we have had bear here in La Crescent come down the river and from the  hills.  

The following is the picture I just had to post this week.  I don't know any of these men, but it is quite the gathering.  Evidently the man on the far left was unknown to my Uncle because he identified him as  the bear hunter, was he some professional?  These four men look very different from each other.  Minnie, to the far right looks bear sized to me and what an outfit he sports. 

Bear Hunter, Tick, Mook, Minnie at Kane, PA  Mts.
 I do not know whether or not they were successful in catching the bear.  There are no photos and Uncle Carl always had photos of the results of the hunt or the fishing expedition.  So I am thinking there were no bear that came near.

Tick holding bear trap

Hunter sets it up
And the last showing this trap set up on the end of the porch.  I wonder if this had anything in it or under the board below to lure or attract the bear, or if this was just a way to keep the bear away.  It certainly  is quite a contraption.  This last photo showing it secured to the end of the porch makes me wonder if the bear was big enough, could it have torn loose the post on the porch?  I don't know any bear hunters to question.
 This has been my Sepia Saturday post for the week. This has been on something that I know nothing about so it has been a challenge to write.   As always click on the title to get tot he Sepia host site where you can link to  what others share and see the magnificent photo of lights Alan found for the week.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Arrived PA homestate

So here we are at our only place to park the RV at home in PA, Mt. Top RV, Tarentum, off Bull Creek Road.  Our hosts Ed & Fran finally had to raise their price after all these years; it is now up to $25 per night with our Passport America discount, still way cheaper than a hotel.  Jerry asked Ed when would he add the cable TV at those prices and Ed just looked at him strangely as he deserved.  There is electricity and water hook up here but that is it.  In years past they hosted an annual bluegrass festival in July but decided that they could make more money just opening this as an RV spot, there being none other in the area here near Pittsburgh. their home is on this property, which Fran inherited from her family.  Sad to see her on oxygen now but she looks the same, regrets those years of smoking which led to this, and she is not outside visiting RV's as much as her oxygen hose doesn't reach and she saves the portable for outings. 

We have been parking here since 2008 when we had our first new Southwind.  Just like everyone who arrives here for the first time, down winding Bull Creek Rd and then up Sun Mt. Road of sorts, one wonders where you will end up.  It looks like driving back into Deliverance deep in the woods and hills;  these are real Pennsylvania woods not just a clump of trees as someone we know in MN  refers to her backyard clump of trees.  Right now the spots of natural dogwood trees are making the woods even more magnificent.  Pennsylvania is known for its hills and woods, PennsWoods, for the founder, Quaker William Penn pre colonial times.  
Every one who RV's here that we talk to says the same thing, "what did you think the first time you drove here?" Previous to finding this place, we had parked the old Southwind   which had no slides in Aunt Jinx driveway, but then we did not spend weeks there.  When we  upgraded there was no way we could fit.  Jerry cusses out the streets in these towns which are very narrow making RV driving not so compatible and down right undoable in town.  I remind him this is not new, these roads are from the colonial era, old settler trails where homes popped up and 1800"s at the latest.  Wide enough for horse and buggy maybe, not today's vehicles with cars parking alongside the  curbs.  This is a historic area from the country's early times.
Many young guys working construction have trailers and RV's here which is their home while they are working in the area.  When the job moves on so do they.  This shows industriousness and sense for those who want to work and not draw unemployment and complain about "can't find a job."  There is a young family in one trailer with 3 youngsters, about 5, 3, and 2 years old.  We watched the little bitty 5 year old, at least so we guess, driving round and round in a mini little Kawasaki ATM, giving her  younger sibs a ride in front of her.  I told Jerry, "No way would I let a little girl do that" to which he  laughed, "you wouldn't even ride such a thing."  Correcto!  But she, though itty bitty, teeny tiny,  is very cautious, wears a helmet and we watched her pull off the gravel into the field astutely when a vehicle was pulling in yesterday.  She made several loops around and around, quite cute. 
It's very quiet out here in the boonies and we slept well and long last night.  It is also very safe as Ed is always around mowing, fixing, tinkering and the local police drive up the hill and make the loop. I will post photos later.  This morning we are soon off to visit Uncle at the assisted living center and then over to his home to begin to clear out the trash for Thursday pick up. 
Yesterday  we covered a saner 333 miles from Decatur, IN; purchased 47.7 gallons diesel in Beaverdam OH for $194 and topped off again with 35 gallons for $150 at Sam's at Mills Mall before arriving here--that fill up at expensive PA prices will get us across the state to Gettysburg and beyond and south if all works well.  Road tolls have increased since last year; OH charged $3.25 for a short segment of Interstate 76 and then welcome to my home state of PA where we paid $17 on I 76.  I do agree with user fees for many activities so I cannot  complain too  loudly about the tolls.  Except I recall when the first PA turnpike toll road was set up, to pay for the road and then the toll would be done!  Hah1  A tax once set in place never goes away.   Still the toll  roads are in good shape so they are keeping them up; that is  except for the I 76 around Akron Ohio which gets worse and worse.  We must find an alternate route to that; Jerry has decided even I 80 toll road a bit farther north would be preferable to the washboard through Akron. 

Photos later.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Carl defends Patty

We depart AM for home.  I kind of wish I lived here so I could pop in and out on  Uncle, but he has improved 3000% in one week back at assisted living.  Observed his therapy session  today and talked with the physical Therapist who rates him a 4 on a scale of 1--5 for strength, it's the stamina that needs work.  So he will be back at it soon, using only walker, we hope.  What gene's what determination.  Of course daily I have been reminding him that he is Teofil's son and Teofil overcame strokes and walked until the day he died, to the marvel of all doctors.  Granpap never quit so he cannot either!  It's working!

 Meantime I had gut wrenching today; having survived these episodes  frequently in career days I forgot the misery involved, details which you do not need  to know, suffice it to be that my nerves have caught up with my innards and Canada Dry got me by until about 1:00PM when I felt nearly normal.  I guess all the stress and  strain have caught up. Imodium to the rescue and life goes on. 

Today at the assisted living center with Uncle I pushed his chair into  his place at the dining room table when an old lady who sits in a chair and wears dark glasses, yelled at me for hitting her chair.  I told her we did not touch her nor her chair and fortunately a nurse checking on uncle, was there to verify.  But this woman is nasty and continued, "No you hurt my hip! I'm a nurse I know what I'm talking about."  But I came back with, "Ummmm I'm a doctor!" and she said no more.  Until this evening when we were bidding Uncle farewell until next trip and the old lady saw us coming and started up again.   Well, Uncle Carl heard her this time and said, "What did she say, Patty?  Did she say something about you?"  I said, "Oh no she's just talking to herself."    She must see beneath those dark surround glasses and said, "She hit my chair and my hip hurt all day!"  Well, my Uncle is not going to be quiet now because this is   his niece and he raised his hackles!  Oh No!  Out  it came, first several Polish words/ followed by a distinct cold lecture from him to her,  "Listen to me you old bat!  We were not near you and if you ever say Patty touched you again I'll give you something to worry about.  Now you just go on about your business and we will  forget his, but don't you ever say any thing to my niece again, don't you even look at us,  you miserable old bat!"  Followed by more Polish words.  Nearby his friend, laughed and said, "That old witch is always crabbing at someone."  And Carl is now on point, 'Well she better stay away from Patty!"  OMG he is as protective of me as he ever was, am I 5 years old again?

Really the old lady is pitiful, I suppose wheels herself around and  only comes out to eat, is not out there socializing.  God help her if she raises Carl's ire.  I told him to forget it and he was not having it!   He said, "No that old stata baba better keep quiet.!"  I see my Grandpap's face on Uncle Carl and this could be trouble!

We depart AM and I wonder if I will be awake at 5:00AM as I have been?  I usually sleep until 7-7:30 even  8 at home, but all this trip 6 has been my latest.  And it is dark here in PA early, but  I am up, brewing good coffee and on the computer.   I suppose tomorrow I'll want to sleep in!  Well I can snooze along the journey. 

We are loaded to go but once again no room for the easel, artist supplies and painting  equipment I covet, but 2 of the 4 old dining chairs from my grandparents are in the  HHR. These two have been refinished and recovered in 1984, so noted on their bottoms.  Jerry  considering stopping  in Detroit to see a diesel RV at General RV, but that would mean staying there Sunday and waiting for them to open on Monday.  I would just as soon proceed home and forego looking at an RV upgrade.  We will see what happens.  I will put this back into the hands of the Big Guy above who handles all.

  It has been a fun fall visit to PA and though I did not get to see everyone I wanted to, and did not get to go  to the places I always want to see, I am thankful we were here for Carl.  There is something about coming to the end of the family,down to the last of the tribe, and perhaps because it is only  me from here on after him, but it is humbling, and frightening.  I laugh with him and think, "here we are Buddy, you and me!"  Buddy, that's what I called him until I was about 9 years old.  Finally my mother announced that I was able to speak and  I should call him "Uncle Carl."  When I was small I guess the sounds didn't work right and so Carl said I could call him "Buddy"  which worked for me and so  the name stuck.  My mother was upset with that though, just as my  calling Aunt Jinx,. "Tzotzoche" or  however the Polish word for aunt is spelled.  Well it was not the first of disagreements between me and  my mother!  I look at the photos of me I found at Carl's this trip, pipe curls and all, the idolized child.  I will share those here when I get home and scan them, I was a most fortunate little girl to be so surrounded by relatives who loved me so deeply, an awareness   that still shelters me today, "My  People" who are always watching out for me,, it has sustained me through the years and still does, through the trials of   life.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Sepia Saturday

I have just signed onto a new blog, Sepia Saturday which I discovered through Willow who BTW has set up  Magpie Tales to be unveiled here on February 16, Tuesday....But Sepia Saturday offers a place to share my  wonderful old photos and my  thoughts and meanderings about these.  "Launched by Alan Burnett and Kat Mortensen in 2009, Sepia Saturday provides bloggers with an opportunity to share their history through the medium of photographs. Historical photographs of any age or kind."   Just yesterday I posted copies of  newsclippings I had salvaged from 1959 of our Jr. HIgh School basketball team.  I am amazed that these survived all these years in my collection of photos, from PA to CA, in CA and finally back here to MN in retirement.   

So here we have the 1959 championship boys’ basketball team,  well girls sports were not sponsored back then as they are today pre-title IX ( the number may be off) and the rest. So we gals were loyal supporters of our team; we played girls basketball in gym class and that was the extent of it. I know I have always been a basketball fan but seeing these clippings cemented just how devoted a fan I was. And don’t forget if there was a sports team, there were the cheerleaders. I never had ambition to be a cheer leader and I would have been way too clumsy and uncoordinated anyway. Just as well, it allowed me to be busy as usual on the bleachers and around the area, visiting, being verbal, etc.  



Today I am in touch with some of these people through hometown connections and Facebook. It is a long way from Ridge Avenue Jr. High School. Our class moved to Ridge Ave which was the former high school after the new high school was built out the road. Ridge Ave Jr. High was much closer to my home than the old 4th Avenue School downtown where we went to 7th grade. I had forgotten that, but my friend Kathy Zabec reminded me of it in a conversation last year. It takes a cadre of old friends to retrieve long buried memories.

We were such busy kids, running up and down all the hills around New Kensington, PA. No one ever got a ride to or from school. Most families had only one car if that and Dad usually had it at work. We did wear out the soles of our shoes, which were then replaced if our feet had not grown. Every day in 7th grade, we ran that mile or more home and back to school for lunch. There was no school cafeteria and no one suggested carrying lunch to school. It had to be at least a mile from our neighborhood up the hill to the downtown Fourth Ave. Jr. High, but we trekked that four times a day, to school, home for lunch, back to school, and home again in the afternoon, rain, snow, sleet or sunshine. It didn’t faze us. We just did it. No one talked to us about needing exercise and we had little problem with childhood obesity all the concern today. It was a different world.  I found this picture taken my last day of 6th grade, standing in the alley near our home, notice the hill behind me.  I remember looking so forward to junior high.  I don't remember looking this dorky, but here we have it, my own handwriting across the bottom of the photo.  
 
So moving up the hill to Ridge Avenue for 8th and 9th grade with a school only 5 blocks from my home was a big benefit. It was easier to go home for lunch and I can remember even having time to eat leisurely and catch some of the TV soap operas if my grandma was at our house. She followed Guiding Light and Search for Tomorrow which had migrated from radio.

Today this old junior high after sitting empty for years has been leveled and renovated into lovely senior housing. I wonder if any of my school friends will eventually live there.  I will have to take a photo of it the next trip back home, then and now.  I heard they sold the bricks from the old school.  Some of my friends bought those.  Think about it how would you like to move into your old junior high school in your real senior years!


Monday, July 7, 2008

Newspaper Article My Father


One of the reasons we went to PA in June was so that I could be interviewed by my hometown newspaper (The Valley Dispatch) about my father, my search and AWON. I'd emailed asking to place a tribute to my father and the crew on June 20, the 64 year anniversary of the crash. Instead, Jeff Domenick, the editor became interested in my story and in AWON. So he agreed to do a feature and said I should call when I got to town. The fates and my angels were at work, I was interviewed on June 20, the anniversary date. Other AWON orphans also are featured. But my aunt Virginia who was thrilled about the piece says that I stole the front page with my photo. I hope this brings more members and I hope for me some of the Ball family see it and know about us. Most of all I hope this reminds people to never forget the sacrifices of WWII. I know the newspaper will not hold the article online forever so I have cut and pasted it here.



World War II orphans search to fill blanks left by fathers
By Rossilynne SkenaVALLEY NEWS DISPATCHSunday, July 6, 2008

Growing up in New Kensington during the 1950s, Pat Ball Morrison learned not to talk about her dead father. "When kids would ask me, 'Your name is Ball and your mother's name is McKinley,' it was really embarrassing because that didn't happen back in those days. And then I would say, 'Well, my father was killed ...'
"And then people would just kind of look at you like you had the plague or something, so you learned really early on to not talk about it."
Lewis Ball died before his daughter was born. He knew that his wife was expecting, but he never had the chance to meet his child.

Morrison is one of America's 183,000 "war orphans." Her father died when his bomber crashed into the sea. For 60 years, Morrison, 63, knew only that her father had been killed in World War II. She didn't know the details of what happened in June 1944 and she didn't know why.


Not aloneMorrison's story isn't that different from other 600-plus members of the American World War II Orphans Network (AWON). Many of these "orphans" are finally just discovering who their fathers were and how they died.
AWON was founded to honor the memory of those who died in the war and to reach out to as many so-called war orphans as possible, said Barry Barr-Finch, AWON's director of regional coordinators. Barr-Finch, 64, of Seattle, said AWON fosters an environment for those who lost a parent to tell their stories and to learn. "It's an opportunity for me to meet other orphans and we get to share our stories. We get to hear other people's situations. And then one of the things that happened to me as a direct result of that, I have learned to find things I didn't know existed -- for instance, my father's records."
There are now members in every state, he said, and the organization is always looking to reach more war orphans.


Some members with ties to western Pennsylvania share their stories and the stories of their fathers, America's fallen heroes.


Morrison grew up with just a few remnants of her father, like his hat and his belt. Until her mother died a few years ago and she found letters, documents and memorabilia while cleaning out her house, Morrison never really knew what happened to him.
Morrison's father, Lewis Ball, was piloting a B-24 from Nassau, Bahamas, to Charleston, S.C. on a training flight. His last report was just as it was getting dark; an urgent message was sent an hour later.
The official story, she said, is that the plane ran out of fuel. Along with the accident report, she received a signed letter from the man who fueled her father's plane.
"I find this odd because, you know, you've got to figure that guy's job was just to put fuel in airplanes. He says that he asked the engineer, 'You sure you have enough fuel?' because that's the official story on this -- that they ran out of fuel.
"But there's speculation, you know. Was a German submarine along the coast? Were they flying low? We'll never know," Morrison said.
"The reason that we're called American War Orphans Network is because the government called us orphans -- war orphans. And I know when I mentioned that to my mother when she was alive, she got very angry. She said, 'You're not an orphan. I'm still alive.'
"I said, 'Well, even the government said that we're orphans.' I never thought of myself as an orphan because I knew I had a mother," she said. "But it's just kind of interesting that that is the title we were given."


Morrison grew up resentful of the situation, that she didn't know the details.
"I thought this is really just bizarre. But I've learned through AWON there are just so many of us that have the same story. Our mothers did not talk about it."


Now Morrison lives in Minnesota and keeps all the mementos in her "patriotic room."
She's involved with AWON and its members.
"Now we talk all the time," she said, "making up for years where nobody said anything."


Soldier's Son
AWON member Ben McClelland, 64, said his grandmother was never able to accept the loss of her son.
"She always expected him to come home," he said. "She would go to the front door if she heard a car or truck. She thought he was going to come home."
McClelland's father, Ewing Ray "Pete" McClelland, was in an artillery division that was protecting European countries when the Germans made a final offensive and captured two American divisions, McClelland said. Those divisions were marched to a holding camp in Germany. After that capture, the allied troops did a bombing raid throughout the area and accidentally bombed the prison where the soldiers were, he said.
McClelland grew up in Masontown, and he didn't know the details of his father's death until he started his research.
"Like many of the AWON members, I grew up, of course, without a father and without knowing much about my father's life and especially about the circumstances of his death in the war," he said. "His death was not something that we could talk about within the family."
It wasn't until he was more than 50 years old that McClelland was able to visit his father's grave. The trip was a traumatic one.
While visiting the cemetery, he said, repressed memories came back. It gave him the impetus to write his memoir, "Soldier's Son," which chronicles his experience growing up. It has chapters that focus on his family and his parents' relationship. McClelland now teaches English at the University of Mississippi and lives in New Albany, Miss., with his family.
Growing up, McClelland said, he thought there was some "family secret."
McClelland's father, who was 29 years old when he died, went to college to study optometry but, when Pearl Harbor was attacked, he came home and enlisted.
His mother never remarried. It wasn't until McClelland was an adult that his mother would talk about the situation. Now, McClelland holds hope for children whose parents are fighting in today's war. It's not just families who lose a parent, but parents who survive warfare but return home with emotional or psychological problems.
"There are children who are facing the same kind of situation I had," he said. "I hope that the service community has better support systems that we had before."


Another familyFor Antonetta Bell, of Boyers, AWON is like "another whole family."
"You relate to them," said Bell, 66.
After she joined the network, she did research about her father's story.
Her father, Pasquale Niro, was killed in 1945 when he was helping his brigade cross a river. He was the last to go across and was shot.
Her mother would only say that he was killed by a sniper.
"He was always 'the man in the picture,'" she said.
There was a family picture taken of her mother, father, sister and herself before her father went overseas. Bell was 2 1/2 years old when her father left.
Prior to his death, he had already been wounded a couple of times.
Niro, who wasn't a U.S. citizen when he enlisted, was told that he would get his citizenship papers sooner if he enlisted, she said. After he died, Bell said, he finally did receive those papers.
Bell said Memorial Day reminds her of what her father did for his country.


Never forget
Stewart Lerch grew up with no father to play ball with and no father to look up to as a role model. Lerch, 64, an AWON member from Reading, was 7 months old when his father was killed in New Guinea. Lerch's father only saw him once.
"Growing up, people will say to me, 'Why are you an orphan -- you had a mother?' As in the Orphans Network, we will say, we didn't really have a mother because they were dealing with the loss," he said.
Lerch's daughter Susie Clark, 45, lives in Ross Township. She calls the network "eye-opening."
"It was so upsetting to me to hear how a lot of the families didn't talk about the servicemen who were killed, whether it was just too painful or whether it wasn't socially accepted," she said.
Lerch remembers that, as a child, he'd walk into a room and adults would stop talking.
"Parents and adults did not talk to children about these things," he said.
It wasn't until he was about 55 years old that he discovered letters his father wrote to his grandmother. Lerch never got the answer to why his dad was killed.
He was told that the answer was in the Bible. But, he said he looked and couldn't find it.
When he was about 11 or 12 years old, he found the answer while looking at a calendar sent to his home from the Veterans of Foreign Wars.
Two dates stuck out in his young mind: Memorial Day and the Fourth of July.
"They died to ensure the Fourth of July would always be a day for our independence," he said.
His father, also named Stewart Lerch, was a member of an engineer combat battalion that was also used as infantry. His father was serving as an infantry rifleman when the Japanese attacked. He was shot and killed instantly.
Lerch has "the dreaded telegram" announcing his father's death, his dad's rings, letters and a folder with the picture his father carried with him.
He now gives talks to school groups about World War II. He also talks to veterans and encourages them to share their stories.
"We as a nation may never forget our fallen heroes -- past, present or future. I hate to say future, but it is going to happen."


Rossilynne Skena can be reached at rskena@tribweb.com or 724-226-4681. SIDEBARPat Morrison and her scrapbook Jason Bridge/Valley News Dispatch

American World War II Orphans Network
AWON's mission is to locate and support American orphans of World War II and to honor the service and sacrifice of those killed in the war.
The network provides a registry of orphans and families, guidance to locate records, biannual conferences and regional and local gatherings as well as publications, online communication and a speaker's bureau.
For more information about the Network, including how to become a member, visit http://www.awon.org/.