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Feeling Good About Being Poor in the US


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    You guys are lucky. I never had a grandfather. My fteahr’s fteahr was killed in action on Okinawa 65 years ago this week. I have a copy of a letter to his sister he wrote the day before he was killed. In it, he spoke of my then two-year-old fteahr whom he had never seen, being in battle for three straight years and made a promise to never miss Mass again. He was killed by machine-gun fire leading his squad up a ridge the next day.When my mother was ten years old her fteahr had a bad headache. She kissed him goodbye one morning and went to school. When she came home from school her parents were not there. The neighbor Mrs. Novak was at the house to meet my mother and her sisters. Their fteahr had died suddenly of a brain tumor.