Happy Birthday Dad

Here stands my Dad.  May 9, 1948 is written on the back.  Suite, tie, hair perfectly combed, and big smile in place.  I am really glad to be here, he seems to be saying.  Life is good, and I am happy to be part of it.  The first day of my new married life this is. [Mom and Dad were married May 8, 1948.]

He is standing in front of his home on Broadway, and I guess Mom must be taking this picture.  Careful study of this picture shows Broadway to be of brick, and I do remember riding my bike on this surface trying not to get the front wheel caught between the bricks. Of course it would be a couple of years before my appearing , and many years before my bicycle would hit the bricks.  A "Gulf" gas station sign can be seen in the background, and it had a air pump where my bike and I made frequent exchanges.  But on this day in 1948, Dad was the center of attention, this newly married man of one day.  Here I am world, let's go.

Well today Dad has the center of my attention.  It is his 86th birthday.  Imagine, 86 years young, and a marriage going on 65 years.  He still smiles, and goes to Wal-Mart to walk almost every day.  He still manages to cut the grass, and has a new interest in this thing called the computer.  Well, "Happy Birthday Dad".  It has been a number of years since this photo was taken in which you look so proud.  Today it is I who am proud of knowing this man of 86 years...thank you for my gift of life.

Army of Occupation

On Thanksgiving Day 1945, a young man just out of high school left for Germany on the troopship West Point. This ship was actually the "Luxury Liner America", but who was to tell these fellas what they were about to see and experience. The War in Europe had just ended, and there must have been a lot of guys who felt left out of all the action, and a lot of guys who felt relieved that the war was finally over.

Two of these guys are shown in the picture. One is my dad, Private First Class (PFC), Henry E. Jones, USAF - 15364821. He is the one standing with his hand on the shoulder on the unnamed fellow sitting. He tells me that he spent most of his time there driving prisoners of war to various tasks, which involved mostly blowing up planes that remained after the war. Germany had been destroyed, and much rebuilding was taking place.


The "Army of Occupation Medal" is shown in the next picture.


This medal was designed by the Army Heraldic Section, and shows the Remagen bridge abutments, symbolic of Europe. This medal was given for service in Germany or Austria starting after May 9, 1945. The ribbon is made of equally broad stripes of black and scarlet with narrower white edges. Black and white stand for Germany, and scarlet and white for Japan. [This medal was also given for the occupation of Japan starting after September 3, 1945.]

Dad has a lot of pictures, taken during this time. Hopefully, I will be able to share many more.

THE X- WOMEN

"X-Men" the movie has recently appeared describing a group of folks who represent the future of mankind. After watching this flick, I came to realize that I had my own folks who represent my future. They are my "X- WOMEN".

The picture to the right shows these folks in my arms. My X-chromosome to them. They seem to have gotten a lot, being dark haired, brown eyed, and mostly round faced. [All my Ewen traits.] But reality is that half is really the amount from me, and half from my wife. [Blond headed, blue eyed, and the mitochondrial DNA !] These mixtures of traits will go forward, passed on to the next generations. What the future holds for them will also be my future for my branch of mankind. Things are well in hand.

A Blue Baby

Some sixty years ago today I was brought into this world by Dr. Averitt. Even now, I do not know his first name, for he was always called Dr. Averitt. He literally brought me into this world for I was born by C-section. In the early 1950s, this was not a common surgery. Only about 5 % of the deliveries were done by C-section as compared to roughly 30 % today. The reasons for this surgery was that my older brother had been born by C-section, and the medical standard of the day was "once a C-section, always a C-section". My Mom and Dad have always told me that I was a "blue baby"...all 5 pounds 2 ounces of me. This would generally mean that I was most likely premature, and at birth had underdeveloped lungs. Poor lungs, poor oxygen exchange, and cyanosis, thus a "blue baby" I would become. It would have been much harder to tell the exact gestational age [how long you have been in the oven since the ultrasound was some 30 years away. Only recently has my Dad shared that on this morning some sixty years ago, he prayed for me to live. He tells me that it was not real clear that I was going to make into this world. He had gone outside the hospital, sat under a tree, and started to bargain with God to let me live. I am not all sure what the bargain included, but I seem to have made it these sixty years. How many times has this happened? A Dad, or Mom, or both, asking God to save their child. The asking is part of the struggle. Often the answer is more of a struggle. Well Dad, thanks for the prayers. I believe that I was the one to get the most from this bargain. An Old Testament prophet from around 700 B.C. says: "He has told you, O man, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" [Micah chapter 6 verse 8.] That morning sixty years ago, Dad, thanks for your prayers. Hopefully, I will have some more walking to do.

True Grit

Not to be out done, I thought it would be appropriate to show a picture of Dad. This picture is dated "School Days 1938-1939". Dad would have been a few years short of his 16th birthday, but this is the closest picture I could find to the age of 16 years. Rough and ready I would call it...hair slightly disheveled, collar raised on the right, suspenders showing. Don't mess with me and let's get this picture taking over.

Dad often told some of his childhood stories like jumping off the top of a boxcar while flipping onto a pile of sawdust, swimming across the Kentucky River to Boonesborough Beach because he did not want to pay, and hitch hiking to Lexington to enjoy Joy Land Park. You can sort of see this determination and independence in his face...left eye focusing, because he was left handed. True grit at 12-13 years of age. He often told that he was "passed around" a lot as a child. Pap paw had lost his right eye in an explosion, Mam maw was working full time, and Dad was pretty much left to his own design. One aunt taught him potty training by peeing on chickens. Too bad today that we do not have enough chickens to go around.

Like Father, Like Son

Going through some old family photographs this morning I found a picture of my Dad. It was amazing to me, that the picture was taken just about the same age as my own picture shown in the post "Life's Challenges" [Friday, Dec. 31]. Dad had a picture taken with the very same challenge that faced me..."to assume a sitting position without help and to be able to maintain it with the back straight." Wow I thought, father - son caught in the act at around the same age!

Dad tells us that he was around 10 pounds at birth. It is hard to imagine that Mam maw popped him out since she was a small lady, but I do not doubt the 10 pounds. My mouth and eyes are pretty much identical. Dad has a little less cloths on, and he might be trying to support himself with his left hand. Our legs are almost in the identical position. His seat certainly looks more comfortable than my hard floor.

What a picture it is. Dad and me taken around the same age a generation apart...like father...like son.