In the summer of 1942, on his 21st birthday, Alfred Theodore Graham, Jr., a small-town newspaper reporter from Jacksonville, New York, enlisted in the U.S. Navy. After training as an aerial gunner and radioman, he was assigned to Bombing Squadron 15, where he served aboard the aircraft carrier USS Essex, departing Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on May 3, 1944, for combat duty in the Pacific.
Melvin Shulman was the youngest of three children and the only one to survive his teenage years. When he turned 18, he could have stayed home on hardship, but he was determined to fight the Nazis. He dreamed of being a Navy pilot, went to the recruiting office, and made a discovery when they gave him the color chart he had to be able to read: He was color-blind.
Connections matter. He had a cousin in the Coast Guard who had friends in the Navy and got him a copy of the chart. Melvin memorized what the colors were supposed to be and went back. That morning, they had changed the chart. He enlisted in the Army.
The day came when the doorbell rang at the home of his parents. His father answered the door. A man in uniform stood there and didn't have to say anything. His mother didn't say anything, either. She simply picked up a chair and walked over to her china cabinet. Jews keep two sets of dishes, one for daily use, the other for important holidays. She climbed on the chair, reached up and just dropped each of the religious dishes, smashing them one by one.
Another cousin was a policeman. When the casket came, he went to the funeral parlor and said he wanted to see the body. It was parts.
The policeman had a daughter whose first memory was of having the chicken pox when she was about three, and Melvin coming into her room to say goodbye as he went off to war. She resolved to name a child for Melvin but had a problem: She hated the name Melvin.
What crossed my mind in reading this piece was the bonds that have been frayed by Trump. In was a recent podcast with Adam Kinzinger, he said that his copilot (I might have position name wrong, but his partner), who's MAGA, after Adam's vote to impeach, refuses to have anything to do with him. As Rick Wilson's book title says: Everything Trump Touches Dies. It's the opposite of the Midas touch; ironic, isn't it, for the man who has gilted everything?
I have a few good friends I am no longer in communication with because it turned out they wee MAGAts. I ask myself how I missed seeing that in them. It makes me think of the scene in Cabaret where Michael York's character, Brian Roberts, meets with his good German friend Maximilian von Heune, and Max shows up in his full SS regalia, which leaves Brian speechless.
It's all so heartbreaking 💔. People are vulnerable to propaganda, and unfortunately Trump/Bannon/ Steven Miller are experts at manipulation. I had a dear friend for 20+ years who remarried and went way down the Trump rabbit hole 4 years ago. Boggled my mind...
Had one too only it was her husband of 20 years who insisted on the Rupert rabbit hole. Learned working at jr high that smart can be spectacularly warped in some areas, or be subject to warping.
Some left me speechless too, people I had respected, and thought were kind, empathetic and, well, normal. Some had a warped view of patriotism, worshipped a warped Jesus, or had racist tendencies that I had missed.
There was a meme going around when I was on "X" that called chump King Midas in reverse. It came from a Soprano show about Tony S talking to his therapist. I'm just King Midas in reverse, everything I touch dies. True for Tony and chump.
that title was a compromise because ordinarily, you don't want "four letter words" in a title aimed at best-seller-dom. the actual phrase is, of course, "everything he touches turns to shit."
well said. but you got the whole thing with the dishes wrong. if they had "holiday dishes," this means the house was keeping kosher. if so, this means FOUR sets of dishes, at the very least (two for meat and two for milk). some have MORE, depending on whether they have sets of "fancy" dishes as well.
I didn't grow up knowing this because my family would have been rolling on the floor laughing if you suggested they needed more than two sets: one for everyday stuff (including even old jelly jars in my house, then AND now) and one fancy set. we all thought keeping kosher was nuts, so whatever I know about this, I've learned as an adult, and the accounts of kosher friends have differed. the best part is that if you "tref up" dishes by putting the wrong stuff on them, you can undo all the wickedness you might have stirred up by burying the dishes. when you dig them up, they're purified. dishes, after all, don't grow on trees. and if they did, you can bet there'd be PAGES of rules about what to do with them.
if I've gotten anything wrong, I welcome correction because, once again, my information is second or third hand.
Since the commitment to the rules of the faith had disappeared by my generation, I won't try to correct anything! I was told they had two sets of dishes, so maybe they didn't really "keep kosher," but then, maybe that's all they could afford. I don't know.
sounds like it was sort of a "gesture" to honor Pesach, which is Everybody's Favorite Jewish Holiday; the holiday feast to which you can actually bring your shiksa girlfriend.
Driving through Cave Hill Cemetery , coming over a rise in the road, I saw at eye level, rows and rows of white tombstones. That was the moment that I realized the magnitude of a families suffering. Mothers and Fathers losing a Son, Brothers, and Sisters grieving the lose of an older Brother, Uncle, perhaps a Grandfather. Anyone wo suffered a lose of family or friend, fighting during a war that our Country engaged in, I sincerely hope, for a time of peace,for all.
Edited to reflect the truths TCinLA expressed about the use of the word service, in regards to fighting in a war. You are right, changing the words we use, can change our actions.
What tragic losses. It’s hard to fathom such courage and devotion to duty. With full recognition of the personal costs. And the story is likely multiplied by thousands. They did it for our future. It really galls me that so many MAGAts are likely grands and relatives of those brave souls. I know some of them. I hope the ones in my family that I’ve conversed with, remember it today.
One has to wonder if in their final seconds or moments these warriors thought what they were doing was right or worthwhile. Technology will be capable of revealing such thoughts/comments in the future, but will the Military ever agree to share them? I love the way you wrote this, Tom, because we readers must fill in some of those parts for ourselves.
Thank you for this report, TC. It is, to my mind, the last war where "our freedoms" were at risk, and where "service" was indeed what was done.
I am glad that my Dad (SSgt. USAAC) did not face combat in WWII. He was a meteorologist technician who, after spending almost 3 years in San Francisco, was assigned to the China-Burma Theater where he was involved with the met stations helping Army pilots fly "over the hump". He never talked about it, and died before I knew enough about what to ask him.
Love this and believe this as well, TC: "I’ve always believed since I first read that, that Ted wrote that across time and space to me." Grateful that Ted's words were not lost.
Beautifully done.
Another tale:
Melvin Shulman was the youngest of three children and the only one to survive his teenage years. When he turned 18, he could have stayed home on hardship, but he was determined to fight the Nazis. He dreamed of being a Navy pilot, went to the recruiting office, and made a discovery when they gave him the color chart he had to be able to read: He was color-blind.
Connections matter. He had a cousin in the Coast Guard who had friends in the Navy and got him a copy of the chart. Melvin memorized what the colors were supposed to be and went back. That morning, they had changed the chart. He enlisted in the Army.
The day came when the doorbell rang at the home of his parents. His father answered the door. A man in uniform stood there and didn't have to say anything. His mother didn't say anything, either. She simply picked up a chair and walked over to her china cabinet. Jews keep two sets of dishes, one for daily use, the other for important holidays. She climbed on the chair, reached up and just dropped each of the religious dishes, smashing them one by one.
Another cousin was a policeman. When the casket came, he went to the funeral parlor and said he wanted to see the body. It was parts.
The policeman had a daughter whose first memory was of having the chicken pox when she was about three, and Melvin coming into her room to say goodbye as he went off to war. She resolved to name a child for Melvin but had a problem: She hated the name Melvin.
She named him Michael.
Here's to our veterans.
My MAGAt brother was named after our cousin, killed two months before he was born. I hope it crosses his mind today.
What crossed my mind in reading this piece was the bonds that have been frayed by Trump. In was a recent podcast with Adam Kinzinger, he said that his copilot (I might have position name wrong, but his partner), who's MAGA, after Adam's vote to impeach, refuses to have anything to do with him. As Rick Wilson's book title says: Everything Trump Touches Dies. It's the opposite of the Midas touch; ironic, isn't it, for the man who has gilted everything?
I have a few good friends I am no longer in communication with because it turned out they wee MAGAts. I ask myself how I missed seeing that in them. It makes me think of the scene in Cabaret where Michael York's character, Brian Roberts, meets with his good German friend Maximilian von Heune, and Max shows up in his full SS regalia, which leaves Brian speechless.
It's all so heartbreaking 💔. People are vulnerable to propaganda, and unfortunately Trump/Bannon/ Steven Miller are experts at manipulation. I had a dear friend for 20+ years who remarried and went way down the Trump rabbit hole 4 years ago. Boggled my mind...
Had one too only it was her husband of 20 years who insisted on the Rupert rabbit hole. Learned working at jr high that smart can be spectacularly warped in some areas, or be subject to warping.
Some left me speechless too, people I had respected, and thought were kind, empathetic and, well, normal. Some had a warped view of patriotism, worshipped a warped Jesus, or had racist tendencies that I had missed.
There was a meme going around when I was on "X" that called chump King Midas in reverse. It came from a Soprano show about Tony S talking to his therapist. I'm just King Midas in reverse, everything I touch dies. True for Tony and chump.
that title was a compromise because ordinarily, you don't want "four letter words" in a title aimed at best-seller-dom. the actual phrase is, of course, "everything he touches turns to shit."
Thank you
Indeed!
well said. but you got the whole thing with the dishes wrong. if they had "holiday dishes," this means the house was keeping kosher. if so, this means FOUR sets of dishes, at the very least (two for meat and two for milk). some have MORE, depending on whether they have sets of "fancy" dishes as well.
I didn't grow up knowing this because my family would have been rolling on the floor laughing if you suggested they needed more than two sets: one for everyday stuff (including even old jelly jars in my house, then AND now) and one fancy set. we all thought keeping kosher was nuts, so whatever I know about this, I've learned as an adult, and the accounts of kosher friends have differed. the best part is that if you "tref up" dishes by putting the wrong stuff on them, you can undo all the wickedness you might have stirred up by burying the dishes. when you dig them up, they're purified. dishes, after all, don't grow on trees. and if they did, you can bet there'd be PAGES of rules about what to do with them.
if I've gotten anything wrong, I welcome correction because, once again, my information is second or third hand.
Since the commitment to the rules of the faith had disappeared by my generation, I won't try to correct anything! I was told they had two sets of dishes, so maybe they didn't really "keep kosher," but then, maybe that's all they could afford. I don't know.
sounds like it was sort of a "gesture" to honor Pesach, which is Everybody's Favorite Jewish Holiday; the holiday feast to which you can actually bring your shiksa girlfriend.
History comes alive through your words. I’m grateful.
It certainly does Gloria, and I am grateful as well.
Driving through Cave Hill Cemetery , coming over a rise in the road, I saw at eye level, rows and rows of white tombstones. That was the moment that I realized the magnitude of a families suffering. Mothers and Fathers losing a Son, Brothers, and Sisters grieving the lose of an older Brother, Uncle, perhaps a Grandfather. Anyone wo suffered a lose of family or friend, fighting during a war that our Country engaged in, I sincerely hope, for a time of peace,for all.
Edited to reflect the truths TCinLA expressed about the use of the word service, in regards to fighting in a war. You are right, changing the words we use, can change our actions.
What tragic losses. It’s hard to fathom such courage and devotion to duty. With full recognition of the personal costs. And the story is likely multiplied by thousands. They did it for our future. It really galls me that so many MAGAts are likely grands and relatives of those brave souls. I know some of them. I hope the ones in my family that I’ve conversed with, remember it today.
One has to wonder if in their final seconds or moments these warriors thought what they were doing was right or worthwhile. Technology will be capable of revealing such thoughts/comments in the future, but will the Military ever agree to share them? I love the way you wrote this, Tom, because we readers must fill in some of those parts for ourselves.
Thank you for this report, TC. It is, to my mind, the last war where "our freedoms" were at risk, and where "service" was indeed what was done.
I am glad that my Dad (SSgt. USAAC) did not face combat in WWII. He was a meteorologist technician who, after spending almost 3 years in San Francisco, was assigned to the China-Burma Theater where he was involved with the met stations helping Army pilots fly "over the hump". He never talked about it, and died before I knew enough about what to ask him.
"the Hump" was hard, whether in an airplane or supporting the airplanes.
Thank you. Beautifully expressed.
Love this and believe this as well, TC: "I’ve always believed since I first read that, that Ted wrote that across time and space to me." Grateful that Ted's words were not lost.