After 1938

This story is a continuation of my previous story, The Black and White World of 1938. It will begin where I left off...on September 21, 1938.

It just so happened, on this very day...that there was a horrific and deadly hurricane which took the lives from an estimated four to eight hundred people throughout seven of New England's states. Not only leaving behind emotional duress and grief, but that storm would also take this entire geographical area countless years of recovery from the physical damage and financial toll of this devastation:

But in a small town in the Southern state of Louisiana on that same day, my family was also going through our own storm...the devastating murder of my grandfather and uncle. That tragedy has also taken decades of recovery.

My mother's mother found herself widowed at forty-five years of age.

Her oldest son, Larue, age 24, was away, working for the WPA project. (The The Works Progress Administration was an American New Deal agency, that employed millions of jobseekers to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings and roads. It was set up on May 6, 1935, by presidential order, as a key part of the Second New Deal under Franklin Delano Roosevelt.)

Another son, Harry, was 21 and had just joined the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) and sent to California. The Infrastructure & Employment program was established 1933, also by President Roosevelt. It allowed single men between the ages of 18 and 25 to enlist in work programs to improve America's public lands, forests, and parks (and to provide jobs to boost the economy.)

The following is a flyer he sent home postmarked 3/4/1939:

Louise, her oldest daughter, was 19 and engaged to be married. "Aunt Sis," as I know her, got married in November 1938, only two months after her father and brother were killed. The couple lived in a duplex next door to her widowed mother and her fatherless children for awhile, though. (Uncle Bill, her husband, also served in the CCC.)

Jimmy, the youngest son, was still in high school. He would be 17 that December. Also at home were daughters, Lucile, age 14, and my mother, the youngest, Estelle, only 9 years old.

Young Larue and Harry were now the ones that were depended upon to be adults and provide all the money they could muster to their mother and their younger siblings.

Not only were these very meager times, but also a phase loomed that continually brought up anger and hurt which put any healing in the backseat. "The trial" had taken place and the man who murdered Gertrude Smith's husband and son was rightfully sentenced to life for two counts of capital murder in Louisiana's infamous Angola prison to face hard labor.

But that sentence, although the maximum he could get, could never replace the love that had been lost. And it could never take away the agony they felt because of the absence of their beloved. "Life went on" but it would never be the same...it just went on. And as it did, history unfolded itself.

"On Sept. 16, 1940, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed into law the Selective Training and Service Act, which was another name for the draft. It required all men between the ages of 21 and 45 to register for the draft...It was the nation’s first peacetime draft." https://www.defense.gov/News/Feature-Stories/Story/Article/2140942/first-peacetime-draft-enacted-just-before-world-war-ii/

On October 16, 1940, Larue and Harry went together, as required, to the local parish (Louisiana's county) and registered in that draft. (Jimmy was still under 21 and throwing all his energy into in high school football. His class would become the State Champs that year.)

He would sign up for the Navy in July of 1941, the youngest son, but first of them to enlist. His ship would supply ammunition to other ships headed out during the Normandy invasion. He served in the Navy from 1941-1947 and then joined the Army from 1949-1952.

Jimmy's younger sisters, Lucile and Estelle also managed to shine after the 1938 tragedy. Lucile would graduate as valedictorian of her high school in May of 1943 while Estelle enjoyed being a beautiful cheerleader and working after school in the local pharmacy/malt shop throughout her high school years.

My grandmother would end up having a son in each branch of the service and I'm certain she stayed in prayer for their safe return. Her inner strength amazed me. And to add to her burden, her father, whom she had not shared a particularly warm relationship with, suffered a stroke. His wife, (my grandmother's stepmother,) then abandoned not only her debilitated husband to my recently widowed grandmother, but also left her own teenaged son and my grandmother's youngest blood brother for her to raise and care for.

December 7, 1941:

Larue's Army records show he served from 11/30/1942 through 2/14/1946. He was unable to fight in combat because years earlier, he had lost an eye somehow, and had a "glass" eye replaced to his right socket...but he served in the Military Police mostly in the San Antonio, Texas area.

Harry was also drafted into the Army, but instead enlisted into the Marines. This postcard was mailed on January 2, 1942. His military service would take him to the Asian Pacific campaign, receiving a Purple Heart for being wounded in 1944 (while getting another wounded brother in arms to safety.) His duty was also ended in 1946, with the rank of Sergeant.

"When the United States declared war after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the United States government created a system of rationing, limiting the amount of certain goods that a person could purchase. Supplies such as gasoline, butter, sugar and canned milk were rationed because they needed to be diverted to the war effort.

Americans received their first ration cards in May 1942. The first card, War Ration Card Number One, became known as the “Sugar Book,” for one of the commodities Americans could purchase with their ration card. Other ration cards developed as the war progressed. Ration cards included stamps with drawings of airplanes, guns, tanks, aircraft, ears of wheat and fruit, which were used to purchase rationed items." https://www.nationalww2museum.org/war/articles/rationing-during-wwii

Larue would marry in 1943, Jimmy in 1944, and Harry in 1945. Lucile would marry only long enough for a brief honeymoon and then the groom had the union annulled. My mother, Estelle would marry in 1951.

Larue would go on to join the Mormon church, become a Mason and a Shriner. He would retire from years of service with the General Electric company in Shreveport, Louisiana and stay married to his wife, Opal, and raised her son. He mostly isolated himself and his new family from his family of origin because of his new-found beliefs, which included abstinence from alcohol and cigarettes.

Harry and Jean would settle in Shelbyville, Indiana where he worked as an auto mechanic. He had adopted Jean's six-month old daughter after they married. There was no doubt of their love for one another, but alcohol had taken its toll on them both. Harry would die at the young age of forty-seven from pancreatitis.

Louise, (also known as Sister, Sis, or Aunt Sis,) would marry Bill a total of three times, divorcing him twice. They had one daughter. She obtained her beautician's license, owned and ran a cafe, truck-farmed, and had chicken houses. That daughter would be the first in the family to obtain a college degree. They never lived anywhere else but remained in Arcadia, Louisiana.

Jimmy would marry four times in all, twice to the mother of his two children. He worked as a truck driver. They resided in San Antonio, Texas.

Lucile would become an executive secretary for a huge oil company in Houston, Texas. She never remarried, but chose to keep her mother in her care. As she got older, she gave up her favorite Scotch because of the implications it had and the anger it brought out in her.

My mother, Estelle, married three times...twice to my father. Alcohol played a huge part in our life, unfortunately. I wish there had been anti-depressants back in those days, rather than trying to drown her sorrows away from a bottle of cheap whiskey or cans and cans of Schlitz beer. My mother and her brood bounced between living in Louisiana and Texas after the final divorce. She married another man (who also loved to drink) at one point, but it lasted only a few months.

My grandmother never remarried. I can't even imagine how she carried on. All I ever knew her as was a very sweet and quiet, very private lady who loved her family. I do vividly remember when my Uncle Harry died in 1965, the wailing cry she had and the words that came out of her agony, "Please God, no more of my children. Let me go next."

Trauma is a word so flippantly and frequently tossed around in our culture today. But in reality, and according to the American Psychological Association, trauma is a grave ordeal, basically reserved for such as natural disasters, wars, murders, and rapes. https://www.apa.org/topics/trauma/

Looking at the concept of trauma's aftermath on my family, it's difficult to differentiate and determine the extent that the murders had from the behavioral patterns that my grandfather brought into play prior to his demise. (He also had been an alcoholic with another set of family from which he left behind when he married my grandmother.) But I'm pretty sure that the combination of both left a trail of heartbreak and bad patterns. Some people call this generational trauma. I have included three articles in the reference section that might shed some light, if you are interested. The aftermath of our storm is still being cleaned up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

References: