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OT - For the older crew on the board


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5 hours ago, Trotter said:

My dad served in Germany and France. Part of the 91st infantry I believe.

I am guessing your dad never spoke about the war - ever. My father would never bring it up and even when we would ask him why a large chunk of his upper arm was missing or same in his leg, he would never go into the details.

I hear this often from guys who's dads served in wars. 

Strangely enough the only time he discussed it was when he was dying of cancer.

 

How true. My dad was a navigator and bombardier, flew 50+ missions over the south Atlantic from French Guiana escorting convoys halfway to Africa, when planes from that side would pick up the task. I think it was in B-17's.  Didn't talk at all about it - I found out more about him from his younger brother/my uncle than I did from him directly. I still have a picture of him in his graduating class, late '30's, from the old Langley Field in the Newport News area (not sure if it's still around/renamed.) After my mom passed, emptying out the apartment/closet, I found it in an old mailing tube he sent to my grandmother in Brooklyn - the address didn't even have a zip code - along with some newspaper clippings, some Air Force cufflinks, and a medal. Never spoke of it at all. Or about his work - he became a prison guard for NYC because it was "civil service" - his generation's idea of stable employment. He worked at the Tombs, Rikers Island, Brooklyn, and eventually was the warden at Belleview prison ward. Needless to say, "visit your dad at work day" was a little different for me, walking by the "pink" rooms and the cellblocks. It was enough to keep me (relatively) on the straight and narrow. The only mandates he ever gave me: get good enough grades to get into college, don't get arrested, and "if you ever think you're going to be a prison guard, I'll kill you first."  

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1 minute ago, Bungaman said:

How true. My dad was a navigator and bombardier, flew 50+ missions over the south Atlantic from French Guiana escorting convoys halfway to Africa, when planes from that side would pick up the task. I think it was in B-17's.  Didn't talk at all about it - I found out more about him from his younger brother/my uncle than I did from him directly. I still have a picture of him in his graduating class, late '30's, from the old Langley Field in the Newport News area (not sure if it's still around/renamed.) After my mom passed, emptying out the apartment/closet, I found it in an old mailing tube he sent to my grandmother in Brooklyn - the address didn't even have a zip code - along with some newspaper clippings, some Air Force cufflinks, and a medal. Never spoke of it at all. Or about his work - he became a prison guard for NYC because it was "civil service" - his generation's idea of stable employment. He worked at the Tombs, Rikers Island, Brooklyn, and eventually was the warden at Belleview prison ward. Needless to say, "visit your dad at work day" was a little different for me, walking by the "pink" rooms and the cellblocks. It was enough to keep me (relatively) on the straight and narrow. The only mandates he ever gave me: get good enough grades to get into college, don't get arrested, and "if you ever think you're going to be a prison guard, I'll kill you first."  

They are known as the greatest generation for a reason.

the civil service angle is accurate.

my dad was a mailman.

yeah I know that is where the gambling comes from

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8 minutes ago, Trotter said:

They are known as the greatest generation for a reason.

the civil service angle is accurate.

my dad was a mailman.

yeah I know that is where the gambling comes from

I was a mailman for 27 years on Long Island...that job really went to sh*t I took an early retirement a few years ago and moved to Florida.

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10 minutes ago, Larz said:

When the electrics take over you’ll have your own red barchetta 

Tires spitting gravel, I commit my weekly crime?  

Deep burnt orange metallic barchetta.

6 minutes ago, Trotter said:

You have a 70 cuda?

what motor?

car I always wanted as a kid.

probably made 5 revel models of that car

440 4 speed.  My Dad bought it new when I was 3. 

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My father was an aero engine mechanic in the war, I believe he worked on the lancaster bombers.  Pretty well all of my uncles served as well.   Two were lost, one on D day he was a tank commander I believe and one was a navigator on a bomber that got shot down over the mediterranian.  My mothers first husband also died as a tail gunner on a plane.  One of my uncles was infantry in italy.   Had bad ptsd (before anyone really knew what this was).

On a happier note I have a great photo of my dad and all his brothers all dressed in suits and ties and looking 40's dapper great.

Back when people dressed well for things other than weddings and funerals.  lol  "Dressed for Saturday night."

 

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3 hours ago, NIGHT STALKER said:

The only thing my dad told me when I was drafted was one bit of advice..."Remember, you're going to serve with guys from all walks of life...not the kind you're use to."  And that was it...like you mentioned, nothing about his war.  As a matter of fact, I had nine uncles serve in WW II and I never once heard any of them converse with each other about the war...it was unheard of.  My generation of Nam vets have talked the most...good and bad things from that.  I don't talk about it unless I'm at a reunion.

I came across the LZNam business card the other day.  You gave it to me when we were at the Jets game in Miami, which if memory serves me correctly almost devolved into combat. 

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7 hours ago, Sonny Werblin said:

I broke my arm falling out of a tree in fifth grade. My dad hated doctors. He always said people do fine until they go treat with a doctor, and then they die. Eventually, John Wayne became his prime example for his theory. Anyway, he insisted it was just a sprain and wouldn't take me to the E/R or family doctor. My brother trying to be helpful, said it would feel better if we wrapped it tight with ace bandages. That did help a little, but my hand turned blue and went numb, When my dad finally took me to the hospital we learned it was indeed broken and the doc had to pull hard on my hand to separate the bones and reset it. I can still feel the pain thinking about it.

Ha I had the same thing happen when my older sister pushed me in off a porch into bushes and skewered my kneecap through an through on a bush branch.  Mom told me it served me right if they opened up my kneecap ... which the doctor ended up say they should do.

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22 minutes ago, Green DNA said:

I came across the LZNam business card the other day.  You gave it to me when we were at the Jets game in Miami, which if memory serves me correctly almost devolved into combat. 

A lot has changed since then...lol.  Still have the business...in fact, it's bigger.  

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1 hour ago, HighPitch said:

This is a fun thread. Just turned 55. As a teacher all i do lately is think about what a sh*ttty time y live in today. Sure the internet is great but its a double edged sword. These kids today barely interact and just push buttons.

I remember the fun times of being out with my crew in queens on my pk ripper with landing gear forks. Exploring any new patch of woods and visiting kids from bussed in neighborhoods. Then driving a classic car ( which were everywhere) to the school yard at night to listen to classic rick, drink a few beers and just hang out. Loved jones beach, being in small boats, going to theaters with a large group, seeing music that was LIVE like actual musicians playing i struments and people caring…. Ugh good times plus nintendo and atari were fun games u didnt need to be trained in. Economy was good, men were men, ladies were ladies, common sense was the norm a great time to grow up in.
 

Todays kids grow up in sickness. Everyone is trying to shock you with extreme videos and emulating famous idiots. We are doomed

My European wife said to me “American culture confuses me. Everything seems to offend everyone but the easiest way to get famous is to share photos of your ass on Instagram.”

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6 hours ago, Sonny Werblin said:

Remember this stuff. Who thought it was a good idea to jab a plastic applicator stick into open wounds?

73430FE4-26A5-49D5-AE11-16E473B60157.thumb.jpeg.0c187925c81d1287a8012d7abccf5962.jpeg

Another old time winner: hydrogen peroxide. Use too much, and it kills living tissue.

During a HS football game, some kid who had one of his screw-on cleats (remember those?) missing from his shoe, stepped on my hand, and the bolt tore open a trench from the middle fingernail to the center of the back of my hand. I had to stand there in the middle of the locker room after the game, without making a sound, while the coach poured of over the wound. I just about swallowed my tongue.

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25 minutes ago, HighPitch said:

You have a 70 cuda now? Pics pls

Haven't seen it in  months, but hopefully in the spring.  Somewhere I have pictures, but I have no idea where.

Pretty standard burnt orange with black leather and a hockey stick and pistol grip 4 speed.   Has ancient Keystones and tires so old they probably are 15 years from when they were last supposed to be driven on.   He originally ordered a tor red hemi with a shaker, but the guy at the dealer told him they were a little finicky and to go for the single 4 bbl.  Took him for a ride in his GTX to seal the deal.  When the prices got crazy we regretted not having the hemi, but he was probably right.  My Dad used to say we probably wouldn't still have it. 

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5 hours ago, NIGHT STALKER said:

The only thing my dad told me when I was drafted was one bit of advice..."Remember, you're going to serve with guys from all walks of life...not the kind you're use to."  And that was it...like you mentioned, nothing about his war.  As a matter of fact, I had nine uncles serve in WW II and I never once heard any of them converse with each other about the war...it was unheard of.  My generation of Nam vets have talked the most...good and bad things from that.  I don't talk about it unless I'm at a reunion.

Thank you for serving. I salute you sir.

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When I was 13-15, (mid to late 70's) from Brentwood NY , we took the train to NYC without telling our parents. Walked to 42nd street and at times snuck into triple XXX theaters, brought the whore house ads handed to us on the streets to school.  Got home around 7-8 pm and our parents had no idea where we were NONE.

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