Childhood Collections

Uncle Gene had a great way of telling stories.  He often provided first hand illustrations to help communicate the often broad scope of his adventures.  Serving during the Koren War, he told many of his "army stories" giving first hand accounts of driving tanks and the like, which of course filled my attention span.  He had a collection of patches which he would present with a story, describing its origin and activity, often leaving my questions yet to be answered.  His military patch collection become one of my childhood favorites.  The following patch [shoulder sleeve insignia] caught my attention having recently rediscovered this childhood collection :

No stories arose from the many memories pertaining to this collection, so I had to check a few of my "adult" references.

The 3rd Armored Cavalry it turned out to be.  A regular Army unit on active duty with Headquarters at Fort Bliss, Texas.  My reference read "The green color and trumpet commemorate the original green facing of the uniform and its gold trumpet insignia (1846)".   The motto is recorded as coming from General Winfield Scott after seeing the Regimental colors raised over a captured stronghold... "Brave Rifles! Veterans! You have been baptized in fire and blood and have come out steel."

I can't imagine how Uncle Gene could have missed such a story, but this childhood collection is still telling them.


My reference : Shoulder Sleeve Insignia of The U.S. Army 1946 - 1989, by Richard W. Smith, first published 1978. (p. 12)

Calling Uncle

For most of us upon this earth, we grow up around uncles. The brothers to our mom's and dad's who may or may not play an important role in our early childhood development. [Husbands to our aunts are also called uncles, but somehow they seemed not as involved.]

Six uncles were involved in my childhood. Four on my mother's side [Ewen], and two on my father's [Jones]. The picture to the right shows my two uncles on my father's side in their own early school days. Both red headed, uncle Gayle was six (extreme right), and uncle Gene was eight years old. They were attending Hickman Street School, where many of my Jones family had walked the halls. World War II was about to end, and I suspect they had their own struggles during their growing up years.

Uncle Gayle looks a bit disturbed by all this first grade picture taking. That horizontal Jones smile (or frown) is in place. I have had a bad hair day so lets get this over with, he seems to be saying. Uncle Gayle introduced me to scouts and taught me to tie square knots.

Uncle Gene has a little different look. Almost smiling, his hair is carefully combed, and his expression seems confident. Here I am world, make way, he seems to be saying. He was the story teller of our family, and I spent many hours soaking in the verbal acrobatics that made, well Gene, Gene. I was not always sure I could believe every story that was told, but the laughter and joy in the telling covered most of my suspicions. He opened many doors to my childhood imagination. Laughing so hard sometimes, I had to call...Uncle.