On September 23rd, Bruce Springsteen’s birthday, Carol and I jetted off to DC for the SHAEF Reunion. SHAEF is the acronym for Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, my father’s Army unit in World War II.
There are only 22 surviving members of SHAEF that once had 10,000 soldiers. Most of the current members, like my sister and I, are children and grandchildren of those who served.
A strange thing I grant you.
One thing I remember about my childhood was my dad talking about guys he knew in the Army. He talked about his good friend Herb Abel, from Texas.
I don’t know anybody from Texas. I know people who live in other states, but they all from here. That’s why I know them.
I think it was easy for my dad and his generation to work and compromise with people from other states after the War. And by other states, I mean Southern states.
Our generation can’t seem to do that. They are not the opposition; they are the enemy.
At the dinner closing the SHAEF Reunion, a lady from the South asked me for my business card. I wasn’t actually carrying one. I had to get one that my wife had in her purse.
I gave it to the Southern lady whose name I confess I do not know. She took it in both hands and studied it carefully. She looked up at me and smiled warmly, thankfully.
I am glad I went to the Reunion.
I hope you like the photos.
