Ken Beaton: It seems like only yesterday

On Nov. 20, 1945, Don boarded the 8:30 p.m. train for home. By 10 p.m., the other passengers were asleep. For the first time as a civilian, he was alone. The gentle rocking of the Pullman sleeper caused his memory to recall boot camp in early 1942, paratrooper training, cruising “across the pond” in liberty ship 648, SS Booker T. Washington sleeping five high, more training in England with night jumps, jumping out of a C-47 at 00:15 hours on June 6, a bridge too far, being a “Battling Bastard of Bastogne,” the inhuman treatment to humans at the death camp they liberated, unconditional surrender on May 8, 1945, waiting forever to be assigned to liberty ship 512, SS Key Pittman, entering New York harbor to the Statue of Liberty with tears in their eyes, and finally being honorably discharged.

A copy of the Saturday Evening Post was on the seat beside him. Don opened it to a Lane Cedar Chest had a full page ad with Shirley Temple suggesting, “This Christmas give her the Perfect Love Gift, A Hope Chest.” The Keepsake Rings’ matching engagement ring and wedding band ad was on the next page.

After four years of writing letters to Grace Hawthorne, Don decided to ask Mr. Hawthorne for his blessing to marry Grace. Next, he would purchase a Keepsake ring set before popping the big question. A Lane Cedar Chest would be her Christmas present.

Don stepped off the train at 8:30 a.m. Thanksgiving morning, Nov. 22, 1945. The 10-minute walk from the train station to his parents’ home was completed in eight minutes while carrying his 50-pound duffle bag! Entering his parents’ home through the back door into the kitchen, he surprised his mother. She turned from the stove and yelled, “Don’s home!”

Tears of joy filled her eyes as she ran to him with a large wooden spoon in her right hand and open arms. “God bless you! This is the best surprise ever!” His two younger sisters ran into the kitchen. They had become beautiful young women since he saw them almost four year ago. Each sister gave Don a hug with glistening eyes, “I’ve missed you, Don!” Dad waited in the doorway for his turn. He shook Don’s hand and told him, “Son, It’s great to have you home for Thanksgiving.”

“Dad, you don’t know how great it is to be home!”

Don and his father walked into the living room where they talked until Mom said, “Everyone take a platter to the dinner table.”

Dad bowed his head and reached on either side for the hand of his wife and his son as the family joined hands for grace. “We thank you for this food,” as he held back a tear in his right eye. “We thank you for returning Don to us from Europe. Please be with all the families who lost a relative. Thank you, in your son’s name, amen.”

Everything tasted the way Don remembered. They took a 90-minute break before slicing the pies. Don excused himself and walked three houses up the street to Grace’s parents’ home. As Grace opened the door, she yelled, “Don!” Her arms flew around his neck. This was the moment he pictured in his mind during every dark moment in a fox hole.

Fast forward 70 years to Nov. 26, 2015, Don stopped reading and passed his two-page essay to Kyla, his 14-year-old great-granddaughter. “Kyla, does that answer your question, ‘Pop, what was your best Thanksgiving?”

“Thanks, Pop, does it seem like a long time ago?”

“Kyla, it seems like only yesterday. I wish your great-grandmother was still with us. We would have been married 70 years next month.”

“Pop and Kyla, dinner’s ready.”

Ken Beaton of Carson City contributes periodically to the Nevada Appeal.