When I was growing up, we were not allowed to watch M*A*S*H. Dad said no one should make fun of war, and that was it. I got away with just about anything else on TV, but M*A*S*H was strictly off limits.
My dad didn't talk much about the Korean War. He didn't talk much about the army. I know he had something to do with tanks, and I know he was behind enemy lines once. That's all I know.
When I turned 18 and the Federal Government started requiring everyone to register for the draft, my dad told me no son of his would ever go to war and that the family would move to Canada if it looked like I would ever be called up for active duty.
That was 1982.
Nowadays my father talks differently about the army. He is proud of my nephew who enlisted. He talks about being buried in a military cemetery when the time comes. It's not 1982 any more.
Today an exhibit is opening at the New American Art Union that talks about the soldiers. If you get a chance to go by and see it, you should. It's both fascinating and depressing all at once. If you can't make it by the gallery, you should at least view Jim Lommasson's own website for Exit Wounds here.
3 Comments
YOUR NEPHEW THAT ENLISTED!
THAT'S ME!!!!
Grandpa's proud of me? That actually makes me smile.
glad to help. it's true.
My Mom could hardly speak about her father without spitting, when we were growing up. Then before she died it was all about the good things. I couldn't decide if it was healing and good, or wild selective memory on her part.
Nah, that makes parents too human.