On the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month

I've posted before about my maternal grandfather and his service during World War I. As usual for me, on this day to honor all veterans I find myself gravitating toward the root in Armistice Day of World War I.

Another World War I veteran in the family tree was Joe St. George. I don't know much about him, though there are a few family anecdotes. He was nicknamed "the Count," for one, because he led a wild life.

Recently when cleaning out the house after my father's death, we found a picture of Joe & his wife, along with the certificate for his French Verdun medal.

Joe & Nellie St. George, year unknown (probably 1940s)

And last week, I finally found and visited their grave.

Amazing stuff to discover after all this time.

Guerilla grave tending

It's been nearly a year since my father passed away. Damn but time flies.

The anniversary of his death, too near my birthday at the end of November usually means miserable cold weather. The weather between Autumn and Winter. Wet, cold and lacking both the cheer of snow or the beauty of Fall colored trees.

Rather than wait, I paid respects yesterday. It was cloudy but unseasonably warm, the day was open. Coincidence it came on All Souls Day/Day of the Dead/Samhain.

Turns out the spot looks lovely in Autumn. Next year I need to get down a little earlier, perhaps. Some of the trees had already dropped all their leaves, but there was still enough nice color to go around.

Lovely spot come Autumn.

Then I swung up to my great-grandfather's grave (same cemetery.) It is a shared plot with other past family members - great-grandmother, a grand uncle & a grand aunt. Unfortunately, their stone is a flat-in-the-ground style. Entropy had set in. Names were occluded by growth. (I need to come by more often. I probably will now that my father is buried there.)

Anyway - the humorous part comes here. I came unprepared for a grave cleaning. I had no gloves, and my pocket knife just wouldn't do the job. I could come back later, but I really wanted to do something then & there. I thought to myself, "Is there anything in the car I can use to take care of this now?"

Yeah. I keep an entrenching tool (collapsible spade) in the trunk for emergencies.

So, there I was, walking around the graves, with shovel in hand.

Glad no one called me out on it. Could have been awkward ;)

Sometime you bring roses. Sometimes you bring a shovel. Sometimes both.

I think I can generate a few short stories out of the experience. :)

(I'll get back in the Spring, bring a kit and do a proper job.)

Personal effects; World War I paraphernalia

On my bucket list, and on my Dad's bucket list, unfortunately, was to get my mother's father's (my maternal grandfather) World War I paraphernalia into a display case. We finally did so this weekend.

His flag was undersized, but that worked out perfectly. My wife put together a shadow box that fitted into the bottom of the case. (For the record, he didn't die in the war, he died in 1943.) Under the flag we have a doughboy sewing kit, his dog-tags, a French Verdun medal (see Unofficial medals, on the linked page) American World War I Victory medal with three battle clasps, and rifle bullet shells.

This case now stands on our fireplace mantle, but the glare from the light didn't make for a good photo. Hence, the floor shot.

One other item did not fit into the case. A rather unique crucifix.

 "Gott mit uns" - God with us. Sorry Kaiser, better luck next time.

As a side story, my six-year old daughter recognizes Jesus and crucifixes. She wanted to know why Jesus was on 'that' (the cross of bullets.) I was a bit on the spot. The best I came out with was, "The problem with war is that sometimes both sides think God is with them. But it's a just a terrible thing." Or something to that effect.

Veterans Day; The Diary of Peter Kenny

Today is Veterans Day, and I'm late with this post.  But, I am squeezing it, and the official holiday observance is tomorrow.

This is the day to honor all veterans, of course.  But it has its root in Armistice Day of World War I, so I tend to think of my maternal grandfather on this day.

Peter Kenny was a Irish immigrant who became of a citizen of the United States in 1915.

In 1917, Uncle Sam drafted him into service.

It's funny that sometimes family stories are like onions - layers come out after many tellings and discussions.

I knew he died of cancer in the 1940s.  What I didn't know - until recently talking with my mother - is that in the end, he was at the V.A. hospital - and the wounded soldiers coming back from the WW II theaters were admiring him for what he had done.

No higher tribute I can think of.

When he was in France, he kept a "diary."  It is really a rough itinerary - a jotting of places he went, nothing deep or revealing.  It was just a pencilled pocket notebook, fading fast - I transcribed it years ago.

I get the feeling he wrote out some of the names phonetically.  And, some names might be hamlet names you wouldn't find on a map.  But someday I want to trace his route on a map - and maybe someday beyond that get to France and follow the journey.

It also includes names - I assume of comrades.  Whether he kept in touch with any of them after the war, I don't know.

If you want to read it, follow the "Read more >>" link...

Irish anecdote

Last night, I flipped by a travel show, and the host was in a pub in Dublin, Ireland.

I've been to Ireland twice. Such shows always make me yearn to visit again.

I probably won't make it back for a while. My kids have a ways to go before we can travel to cultural/historical destinations and have them appreciate the vacation. (read; they will want to go to Disney World a few times first ;) )

My favorite moment in my Irish travels were when my brother and I, second generation Irish-Americans, met my mother's cousins in Galway.

I was asked a wonderful question.

"Is this the first time you've been home?"

I guess all us Irish-Americans are just on loan; Ireland is our true home.

Still, it's a great place to visit - whether you have Irish blood or not.