SUCCESS

SUCCESS. I've located contact info for one of the McArthur brothers' sons, the Bennettsvile, SC WW II veterans who wrote well in excess of a hundred letters home to their mother before, during and after the war; and that's only the ones that were recovered by Trina Browning-Niznik. I have no doubt there were many more.

One, Laurin McArthur II, was a Lt. Commander in the US Navy and served aboard the USS Daly. Laurin won a Bronze Star for his destroyer's action during the sea battle of Surigao Straights in the Philippines, during which the Daly was struck amidship by a kamikaze plane. Laurin died in April of 2010.

James D. McArthur retired from the US Army as a Colonel, his career beginning with the 263rd Coast Artillery at Fort Moultrie, SC in 1939. He wound up as an artillery instructor for the Army, serving in Texas among other places, and retired after serving in Vietnam. I'm still working to complete his timeline. James died in

1992.

I read some of the letters but had to stop; it just seemed too 'voyeuristic', an intrusion of sorts into lives past. Those treasures belong to the families of these patriots, not me, and I will be calling Mr. McArthur in the morning to make arrangements to return the family's history.

One other item i didn't include a picture of yesterday is the WW II Victory medal that was in the bag Trina gave me. Though there's no way to tell which brother it belonged to, I am assuming they both would have received one. I'll provide a follow-up after I speak to Mr. McArthur tomorrow, if all goes as planned.

A Journey To Reunite

This story will be a little different, one like no other I've ever pursued. It will involve research, though to what extent remains to be seen, in an effort to locate family of a World War II veteran.

Just this morning I met long-time acquaintance Trina Browning-Niznik, a gal I've known since she was a youngster and I was pals with her older brother, at a local Tim Horton's. Trina now lives in Florida and had contacted me in September about stacks of mail from the 1940s she'd come across at an auction; she was in town this weekend to visit family and brought the correspondence with her. The letters and memorabilia, you see, are from a serviceman to his family; since I write profiles for area veterans Trina thought I might be interested in trying to track down this man's family in order to return the items to them.

I jumped at the chance.

While this may consume much of my time it will be a labor of love, a project well worthy of any effort it may involve. I have yet to read any of the correspondence, from a time just before the United States entered WW II and also when this nation was at war with both Japan and Germany, and I relish the chance to live through these letters the lives of those involved, to gain a sense of the service and sacrifice this soldier made. In the days and weeks to come I will update this story, so stay tuned.

The First Time in our Ten Year Marriage

Day of days: today, when the sun is high enough that its heat has evaporated the morning's dew from the grass, an event will occur that hasn't happened since before August of 2007.

My red-headed angel will climb aboard our lawn tractor, which she's never operated before, and mow the yard.

I will be supervising, needless to say, with much trepidation and angst, keeping a close watch on deck height, speed and the mower's vacuum capacity.

DANG those blasted pine needles!

It's been a night of fitful sleeplessness. I've gone out to the shed twice since 0230, gazing longingly at my orange-and-black Ariens 22 horsepower mower and its 46" cutting deck, silently apologizing for the dangers it will face with the rising of the sun. I know where the too-high tree roots lay, roots with the ability to destroy a mower blade. I know where the too-steep yard slope can become a danger if you don't take the mower across it at just the right angle. I know the areas along crumbling roadways that border our property that can produce deadly asphalt shrapnel if you're not alert. I almost want to don an orange hard hat and sound three long blasts from an air horn, much like construction explosives contractors do before setting off charges, when Stacy starts the mower, in order to forewarn neighbors and pedestrians of impending danger. I'm almost considering calling Mike Bailey, a good friend and head of the county's Emergency Management Agency, to stand by while Stacy mows.

But I won't do any of that. I'll sit on the porch in a lawn chair, sipping on caffeine-free diet Pepsi, and watch my angel mow that lawn in my stead...

...and pray.

Have a great Saturday, everyone!

Hiatus

I'll be out of the writing business for a few weeks while recovering from surgery.

STAY SAFE!