Within the volumes of papers my father gave me of my great uncle’s, there are dozens of letters. Some of them are sweet, others beautiful or funny, and a few move me to tears.
(Note: This was also posted on my other blog, Journey to Tunisia) For my 35th birthday, my father passed down to me all of his collection of Pete’s things. All of it.
My birthday is Tuesday and, since I’ve expressed that there’s nothing I want or need right now, my parents gave me the kind of gift that just cannot be replicated.
I’ve been busy lately and have had a lot of things related to my obsession with the 1940s and World War II come up, so this is going to be a hodgepodge of an update.
As I have discussed in previous entries, preserving my great-great uncle’s memory is very important to me. As is taking my dad to Tunisia next year so that we can stand in front of his grave. I’ve decided to chronicle the journey – from our… Continue Reading “Journey to Tunisia”
It sits, unchanged. The moon rises and sets. The sunlight beats down in punishing rays, bathing it and everything around it in the blinding golden light that can only come from an African sun. Water splatters across its smooth marble surface as the sprinklers… Continue Reading “Planning a private pilgrimage”
Pete, or James K. Stepro, as was his given name, was born on a chilly February Saturday in 1912. The seventh of eight children in a three-room house with no electricity, he was from inauspicious beginnings. The family was poor but they did the… Continue Reading “The Greatest Generation: A Man Named Pete”