About A Yankee Bride in The Midwest

Born in 1943, I am a War Baby, a member of that small generation of children that preceded the Baby Boomers. Our mothers were often far away from family. We grew up on or near military bases and made the best of meager housing — motels, boarding houses, whatever. Our mothers washed diapers and hung them out to dry, scrounged for food and toys, and learned how to make the best of rationing.

I recently found a cache of over 400 damp and musty letters my parents exchanged with their families –  a complete record of WW II exchanges between my parents and their parents and siblings from the day in 1942 they married to the day in 1945 my father was released from service.

Damp and musty, spread out to dry.

Damp and musty, spread out to dry.

The letters provide a record not just of my parents’ lives and my childhood, but of a time when communication was anything but instant. A phone call was a rare and expensive indulgence. Travel was severely limited for civilians so visits were an even rarer and more expensive event.

All sorted at last!

All sorted at last! Events of the day painted a picture of her life for the people she loved. The Midwest was truly different from the East in those days so there was much to share.

So come with me to the world before the internet, Skype, Twitter, or Facebook. Come back to a country at war, a time of daily fear of the future mingled with challenges of daily life.

This will be a three-year journey as I share these historic letters.  On days when there was no mail, I’ll give you war news, the top ten songs, and the weather — everything that absorbed and distracted my parents and gave them solace through threatening times .

 

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