Her Last Ride by Heather Smith ©

Disclaimer: No one was really for digging Grandmama back up, but it's a funny thought - also, my memory is shot to hell - so very little of what I write is historically accurate.

Grandmama picked out her coffin herself- years before it was needed. Nice right? I mean for a coffin. Her funeral was held four years ago today and she is deeply missed. I wrote her obituary myself. But one thing I forgot to mention in that ostentatiously long obituary was her love of luxury cars and her love of travel which I suppose go hand and hand.

Over the weekend, my daughter came down to visit us from Indiana and her grandfather from her dad's side is in the hospital, so we went to see him. In the course of the conversation, Ed and I started talking about how I first came to know the Simpson family. Bryan and Jeff (Jim's brothers) both attended West Charlotte with me and I told Ed I always thought Jeff bought Grandmama's  Chrysler Newport. It was brown with a half leather top, and Jeff bought it just after Grandmama traded her car in. She always drove the "gas guzzlers," that's what Granddaddy called them. He tried to compensate by driving a VW Karmann Ghia. Grandmama had a steady succession of larger and more elaborate cars. With each car she considered quality and style - so too were the choices in her last ride - her beautiful pink coffin- which I am glad she got to pick out herself; nobody had her same sense of sophistication. The last car she drove was a pearl-colored Lincoln Town Car that had a bumper sticker announcing to the world "I'm spending my children's inheritance." Thinking of Jeff made Ed tear up a bit. He passed just a year or two ago now, far too young, and such a sweet person. But like Grandmama, he had a taste for large cars that went fast.

The first car I remember Grandmama having was a red Chrysler of some sort with a black leather half top which fit her perfectly because when I was that little, Grandmama was the age I am now and she dyed her hair jet black and wore shiny red lipstick and nail polish. It struck me how she matched her car. I loved piling in that huge car with my family for a road trip, usually, my Aunt Lillian, Grandmama's sister would be in the passenger seat fiddling with the map. My sister, Pam, my cousin Rachel, and I would sit in the back seat. Actually, back in the 70s, you didn't have to sit in the seat, you could play on the floor or sit looking out the back window making faces at the people behind you, you could lean up into the front or stand if you were still little enough. We had these Tom's Candy containers that had been filled with pixy-stick type candy of grape or orange and the top had a loop in it so you could hang it around your neck, we each had one filled with water around our necks.  Mine was grape-shaped. We went to Orlando and Cape Hatteras both that summer. riding stylishly trying to avoid the smoke pluming from the front seat.  Patsy, Rachel's mom, drove in a separate car with my cousins Tommy and Ronnie. Patsy was the creator and keeper of our itinerary and she made sure we got to see and do it all. Good times.

When Ronnie lived with us in PA for a while his car was on the fritz and he had to drive Grandmama's car everywhere. He told me that he felt like people were staring at him because an old lady belonged in that car. He shouted at one guy "That's right, my grandma loves me!" I'm sure Jeff Simpson did not consider her old car and old lady car, but rather, a muscle car. And even though she drove those tanks she was terrified to drive in the snow. In high school, I worked at the Pennwood Branch Bucks County Free Library. Daddy said I could get a job as long as it was within walking distance of the house, and normally I did walk. One evening, it was snowing pretty badly when I left and the librarians all fussed that I should get a ride home. They were afraid I would slip on those sidewalks. Grandmama came to pick me up and she said: "You know your Grandmama loves you, I would not drive in the snow for many people."

On the day of her funeral, it snowed like crazy, which is unusual for Mississippi. I thought she wanted to see if people loved her enough to drive in the snow. Plenty of people gathered to celebrate her life. The pastor asked the immediate family all up to the front for a family prayer and just as we were finishing the prayer the funeral director asked if we wanted her effects. My dad motioned no as he wiped tears from his eyes. We could not gather at the gravesite for the burial because the ground was frozen and it would take a while for them to inter her. We all went out to lunch as a group - or maybe we went back to Charles' -  I don't really remember - even though she was 98 and I knew she was going to die, it tore me up a lot more than I expected, but anyway we returned to the funeral home from wherever we had been to gather all of the things we had brought for the service to discover that Grandmama had been buried with her glasses and rings on. They said that they could dig her back up to get these belongings. Pam was for it! I thought "Just let her keep her rings." In the end, we decided to let her rest and not disturb her. For me, it would be hard to think of Grandmama without her flashy jewelry. Now my Grandmama rests beside her first husband - I'm sure his coffin is the most basic type, much like his Karmann Ghia, and Grandmama is in her Cadillac of Coffins just to irritate him throughout eternity. Granddaddy even told me once: "The week after I die, she's going to go buy a diamond ring and book a cruise." I don't know about the cruise, but I do know that exactly a week after he died, Pam and I were in the jewelry store with her while she picked out a diamond garter for her engagement ring. She did travel plenty in years following. I for one am happy that Grandmama had a great time spending her children's inheritance. For a kid who grew up in the depression, she really got to experience a lot.

I wish I could go out with her just one more time to her favorite Mexican restaurant and enjoy a jumbo margarita with her right now.


Grandmama's Obituary:

Virginia Fears Pierce Keys, 98, passed away on Monday, January 18, 2016, at Sunrise on Providence in Charlotte. Virginia Lorene Fears was born on December 11, 1917, in Monroe County, Mississippi to Lena Mundy and James Henry Fears. Virginia had 2 older sisters, Glen and Lillian, two older brothers, Ira and Norval, and two little brothers, Rubel and Charles. She was an excellent student, but she always loved to socialize and her grades could suffer as a result. She graduated from high school in June 1935. She had already met her future husband at a dance. Virginia married Erie Fleedon Pierce on October 19, 1935, in Mississippi when she was 17 years old. They moved to St. Louis where Erie had accepted a job at Monsanto. There they had their first child; James Eric was born on February 23, 1940. Virginia’s husband pursued a military career which took them to California. Their son Ronald David was born on September 21, 1943. Erie left for the war shortly after Ron was born. Virginia moved back to Amory, MS while Erie was overseas. She was there with her boys for three years. When Erie returned, he was stationed in many places – the last of which was Boston. Virginia became an Assistant for the Promotions Division of Electronic Corporation of America-Combustion Control from February 4, 1954 – May 2, 1958. She had a stellar work record and was considered an indispensable employee. She resigned when Erie retired from the Army and got his Master’s Degree. He pursued a teaching career and took the family back to Mississippi. In addition to her work in Boston, Virginia helped her husband run an ice cream parlor, a car wash, and two motels. She had a head for business. In 1960, they moved to Memphis where they could be close to their grandson, Ron Jr. Virginia kept Ron Jr. while his mother was working. She loved being “Grandmama.” Virginia lost her mother and husband within months of each other in 1979. Her husband, Erie Fleedon, passed away on May 23, 1979, in Amory at the age of 69. They had been married for 43 years. They lived in a penthouse at the beach at the time of his passing, and the hotel sold for enough to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. Virginia moved to England for a year with her brother, Rubel, shortly after Erie died. There she made some lifelong friends. Upon her return to the States, her son, Ric, had been called back to active duty. She moved in with Pam, her granddaughter, in order that Pam could graduate with the people she had gone to school with all of her life. After Pam graduated, Ric moved Virginia, Pam, and Heather to Pennsylvania. The time the four of them spent together in PA would be cherished by all parties. Her grandson, Ron Jr., came to live there for a time, as well. Her bond with these three grandchildren was more similar to a mother than a grandmother. At age 69, Virginia took a cruise with the retired officer’s club. On the cruise, she met Charles Travis Keys. He was also from Mississippi. He was a Navy Pilot in WWII and a bona fide rocket scientist. They had seven happy years together before he passed away on April 10, 1994, in Ocala, Florida, at the age of 73. Virginia continued to travel after Charlie died and she enjoyed her home in Ocala. She was a Charter member of Ocala West UMC and a strong supporter of the Republican Party. She lived on her own until age 87. She then went to live in NC with her son, Ric. She remained in his home for two years before going into assisted living; she had been in Alzheimer’s Care for two years when she died. Virginia was generous, fun, accepting, and elegant. She lived a good life and enriched the lives of those she touched. She is survived by two sons, Ric and Ron Pierce; six grandchildren, Ron Pierce, Jr., Pamela Hausle, Heather Smith, Erika Tucker, Lesley Murphy, and Loren Pierce; and seven great-grandchildren; brother, Charles Fears (Darlene). Her Funeral Service will be held at 10:45 AM, Friday, January 22, 2016, at E. E. Pickle Funeral Home, Amory, with The Reverend Dr. Larry Kay Hardesty officiating. Burial will be in Masonic Cemetery. Visitation will be from 10 – 10:40 AM, Friday at the funeral home. Memories and condolences may be shared with family at EEPickleFuneralHome.com.

Leaving Pennsylvania by Heather Smith ©

Geoff Hansell and Heather Pierce at the wedding of Charlie and Ginny (Virginia Pierce) Keys

So, this blog is supposed to have a schedule - which I abandoned for a while to get some of Mama's stories typed up for my aunt. Today is supposed to be about my Pierce grandparents - and I think this is the most shocking thing Grandmama ever did to me. I really could not believe she just left me alone in the hospital.

I was a pretty sick kid the whole time we lived in PA, but especially the last two years - which were the same years I dated Geoff Hansell and attended Bucks County Community College. I was in and out of this hospital called St. Mary's. I remember being on the phone with Geoff one night when I was 19. Daddy and I were living in the condo at Tarrytown Estates together - just the two of us. My grandmother had married Charles Travis Keys, a bona fide rocket scientist, and moved away to Top of the World retirement community in Ocala, Florida. My sister had run off with a towny she met at Centenary College in NJ and they were living in Greely, Colorado where they presumably attended the University of Northern Colorado. My mother lived in NC and taught at UNC Charlotte.

Daddy decided that he was going to get me well by feeding me. He made a big batch of pierogies and baked some frozen stuffed clams. I ate it greedily and promptly threw up my toes. I went upstairs and called Geoff. "I haven't kept anything down for four days," I confessed. "I'm afraid to tell Daddy because he'll make me go to the hospital." Geoff replied, "Heather, if you haven't kept anything down for four days, maybe you should be in the hospital." I knew he was right.  So I went downstairs and leveled with Daddy about what was going on with me. He looked so sad, but snapped immediately into action and told me to get a bag packed because I might be in the hospital for a while.

As luck would have it, Grandmama was still in town for the last week of summer before Charlie's grandkids all had to go back to school. She and Charlie were going to be around for the next few weeks. I got admitted to St. Mary's and Daddy had to leave for Wisconsin where he was doing some sort of training mission with the Army Reserves.

I shared a room with some lady. While I was trying to go to sleep I could hear a noise like someone shaking a jar filled with marbles. Grumpily, I yelled, "Quit playing with your marbles, lady!" The next day, she asked for a room transfer. Apparently, I had offended her while she was praying on her rosary. I didn't even know what a rosary was at that point in my life.  But at least I had the room to myself for the duration of my stay. Grandmama came in my room and gave me a twenty. She said that she and Charlie had to go back to Florida, there was a ball with the lodge that they had already paid for and she didn't want to miss it. She gave me Charlie's daughter's number and money for a cab so I could get home since no member of my family was within 600 miles of the hospital. I couldn't believe she was leaving. But then, yes, I could.

I was released two days later and took a cab home. It was two days before my twentieth birthday. I got home to the empty condo and the next day Daddy came home. He decided we needed to do something special for my twentieth, especially, since I had plans to move back to NC the following week to go to UNCC. Daddy, Kim, and Geoff took me out to dinner in New Hope.  We had a lovely time looking at the shops and eating outside. I wore my leopard print mini skirt with matching halter and black heels. Somewhere, I have a picture of it. I knew this would be one of my last times with Geoff in New Hope. Maybe the last time. He would never move to NC, and I had made up my mind that April when I went to  Tyler State Park with John Rich, Kurt Myers, and some others from my youth group that I would go home to NC and never live in PA again as I watched them cross the frozen creek in April. In April!

I still had a problem. My birthday is on August 18. Classes started on August 26. I still didn't know how I was going to move to NC. Daddy couldn't take me, he had several speaking engagements scheduled. Mama was getting ready for classes. Geoff mentioned to me that Al, Geoff's best friend, and his fiance had called things off that night when we were in New Hope. Al owned a van.

The next day, I called Al and asked him if he would drive me to NC. He had the time off - it would have been the week of his honeymoon. He agreed to take me, but first, my dad wanted to meet him. Al was - well he still is - half Japanese and half American. He agreed to come to meet Daddy, he said before I left he would take me out to a real Japanese Restaurant. Daddy just loved him, he has such good manners and deferred to Daddy in a way Geoff never did. He had Geoff meet us at his house after our sumptuous meal. Geoff and I said our goodbyes and he sped away upset in his huge yellow Caprice Classic; we had some good times in that car.  I was upset but also excited because a new chapter in my life would start tomorrow.

Al came early the next morning to pick me up. All of my stuff - including my stereo - fit neatly in the back of the van with room to spare. Al was, of course, devastated because his fiance had called things off. We spent the entire trip listening to Shattered Dreams by Johny Hates Jazz.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctwqa3QCwMw

But we still managed to have a good time. We had always had a good friendship and it was therapeutic to talk about our ended relationships. Somewhere near Fredericksburg, we were supposed to pick up I-85. We got incredibly lost on a crossroads. We laughed hysterically at nothing. We went all three wrong directions before finally getting turned around the right way and picking up 85. We stopped at the first Cracker Barrel I ever ate at and that made us a lot less punchy. I don't think either one of us slept the night before. I was worried about Geoff and wishing there were a way we could work it out. But, let's face it, the biggest success factor in a relationship is close proximity.

Al and I finally arrived in Charlotte around 9PM - about 4 hours later than we should have been there. Mama greeted us. And Al and I began to unload the van into my new apartment - the other half of my mom's duplex. The first thing Al wanted to do the next morning was to drive to Monroe, NC, where his biological father owned a golf course. We got there and we just drove by it, I thought we were going to go in so he could meet his dad, but I guess it was too painful. We went back to Charlotte and stopped at Eastland Mall. We had lunch in Annabelle's and then went to the theater to see Cocktail. It was a nice, feel-good, summer movie. Some guy hit on me while Al was buying popcorn. It did wonders for my ego.

The next day, Al got locked into the apartment. He was sleeping and I didn't want to wake him. Mama was taking me to register for classes. She had to go to her office anyway and the line at the Belk Gymnasium was about a three-hour wait. She said for me to meet her back at the office when I was done. I got all finished by around noon and walked back to her office in the Garinger Building. When we drove into the driveway Al was pressing his nose against the window and he was completely freaked out. Mama said she'd make it up to him. That evening she took us to walk around First Ward. We had a great time at Rosemary's bookshop, which was called Poplar Street Books. Al and Rosemary had a nice chat about her architectural section and Al bought a book as a souvenir. Then we went to eat at Alexander Michael's, which was just a few doors down. The next morning Al left early and I got used to living in Charlotte with my mother again pretty quickly. I didn't realize how much I had missed everything until I was gone for four years.

Here's to Charlotte.

"It didn't come from my side"

I'm the one in the yellow shirt - I look normal, don't I?

Grandmama and Granddaddy Pierce moved from Memphis, TN to Topsail Island, NC when I was six or so. I don't really remember as much about the house in Kingsley Cove as far as the bedrooms go. I remember the kitchen, the living room, and the family room. Often, I would sleep on the pullout sofa in the living room when I was there - I suppose Pam slept with me but my memory of my childhood is no match for how my own mother remembered hers.

What I do know is that the kitchen was right off the living room, and I suspect that I slept there instead of in a bedroom because I liked to get up early with my granddaddy to eat breakfast. The invitation for bacon, over-easy eggs, orange juice, and toast with butter and honey was open to everyone who was willing to get up when he did. I was the only taker and as such, I guess Grandmama put me in the living room so I wouldn't wake up the rest of the house getting up. Granddaddy could move silently, but I had trouble doing so as a kid. 

Granddaddy liked for me to wait to get up until he had started making breakfast. Once I heard the bacon sizzle, I would rise, go wash my hands, and sit at the table patiently while we chatted and he cooked breakfast. I learned a lot about my granddaddy from these talks. God knows, Grandmama never let him speak with her constant narration of life as it happened. I learned that the prettiest thing he ever saw was when he would watch the chemicals being dumped into the river when he worked at Monsanto Chemical Company. He said the river turned all the colors of the rainbow. I learned that his favorite place in the world was Havana. He said it was the best vacation he ever had just before Americans were not allowed to go to Cuba anymore. I learned that he went blind for a while because he studied by oil lamp and was beaten by his father for doing so. And I learned that he loved to garden, tinker with his car, study science, and make jokes about my grandmother. Mostly, I learned that I loved him and he really loved me.  He could do no wrong in my eyes and he called me his pet. They say the most important thing that people remember about you is how you made them feel, and Granddaddy made me feel loved. 

Grandmama was a different story. She was embarrassed by me. To be more specific, she was embarrassed by the fact that I have epilepsy. She once said to a stranger in line in front of us at the grocery store  "This is my granddaughter, she has epilepsy. She looks normal, doesn't she?" I was horrified, even though I was only five or so.  

I got other signals from the adults in my life that having epilepsy was strange. Mama and Daddy both assured me that I would always have a home with them since I probably would not be able to work as an adult. They had both known people who had epilepsy when they were growing up. Reportedly, these people had not been able to hold down jobs or have families, but other than that, my parents assured me, they lived normal lives. It seemed to me that working and having a family was how one lived a normal life. 

I got signals at school, too, that epilepsy was strange and embarrassing. It was not easy marching up to my teacher's desk every day just before lunch to get my medicine with whispers all around me. I would make my lonely trip to the water fountain to take my Dilantin and Phenobarbital. In first grade, and throughout elementary school, some children were not allowed to play with me because their parents were afraid that their child would catch epilepsy from me. It happened to me so often that I got to where I would let people know right off the bat and have them check with their parents to see if it was okay if they played with me. I didn't want to get attached to a friend who couldn't be my friend anymore.

The most devastating event for me concerning my feelings about having epilepsy happened one night as I lay on that sofabed in Grandmama's Memphis home on Kingsley Cove. I never have slept well. Mama and Grandmama were in the kitchen and they never really got along. I think that Grandmama liked to upset my mother. She liked to upset all of the women in the lives of her sons and grandson. She wanted to be the most important woman in their lives. That night, they were apparently talking about the fact that epilepsy is genetic. "Well, if it's genetic." Grandmama insisted "it didn't come from my side of the family. No one in my family has ever had epilepsy." Mama retorted, "No one in my family ever had it either; it did not come from my side." This debate continued without resolution. I listened intently while tears streamed down my plump cheeks. I have never before or since felt like such an outcast. I felt that both sides of my family were ashamed of me and there was no way I could change it. To this day, that conversation haunts me. But they finally went to bed, and I finally went to sleep, and do you know something? The next morning, I got up with my granddaddy and he made me eggs and bacon and toast with butter and honey. He beamed at me and told me stories of his youth and he made me feel loved again.

Years later when I told this story to my mother, she denied it ever happened. But I know that it did, and I know that it hurt, and I know that many others have been similarly hurt by their families. But still, we love our families, and we endure. We live with our challenges, We overcome our challenges. My parents generous offer to always provide me a home made me determined to work and have a family and live a normal life. Not normal for an epileptic - just normal, or as close as I could get. Do any of us truly achieve or even know exactly what normal is?

Incidentally, my genealogy uncovered the death record of my great-grandfather James Fears, Grandmama's father. Guess what he died from - an epileptic seizure. So, I guess it did come from your side, Grandmama. Not that it matters in the least.

Grandmama's Polish Potato Soup

So, Thanksgiving Day is nearly here. Pretty soon everyone will have had their fill of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce.

My Granddaddy Pierce had a recipe of sorts for what to do with your leftovers. I would bet that Daddy, Grandmama and Ron had to eat Turkey Hash from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas. It was a mixture of leftovers: turkey, dressing, vegetables (mostly peas), and a lot of chicken broth and hot sauce. It was soupy and I didn't like it' mostly because of the canned peas. He was always so proud of it. I ate it without complaint, but I never had seconds.

Grandmama's Polish Potato Soup, on the other hand, was an event, not just a dish. We all looked forward to it so much and she would serve it in china bowls which were actually called soup plates. She got this recipe from a friend she met in Buffalo, New York. I made it recently for my book club for our discussion of Steinbeck's The Winter of Our Discontent. It was set in early 60's New York, so I thought it would have been a dish that Ethan would have had. It will be a good dish to serve once you're tired of holiday food.

Grandmama peeled and mashed her own potatoes, I used 3 24 oz packages of Simply Potatoes - which are already mashed. I also put the mixture through the food processor for extra silkiness, I also added a cup of cottage cheese and a cup of milk - so you can play with it and make it your own and take short cuts, but here is Grandmama's recipe:
6 large potatoes
32 oz. of chicken broth
1 package Kielbasa Sausage
One large onion
Three tablespoons of flour
Parsley and dill weed to taste
Three tablespoons Canola Oil

Boil potatoes in 2 quarts of water until tender
Drain potatoes into another pot and reserve
Mash potatoes with butter or margarine and salt, set aside
Chop onion, sausage, dill, and parsley
Heat oil in frying pan and sautee onion, sausage, dill and parsley
Stir in flour and add two cups of reserve water

Put mashed potatoes back on the stove
Add broth and simmer
put mixture through food processor for a smoother texture. 

Combine all ingredients; simmer for about thirty minutes to allow flavors to blend.

Grandmother Moss's Cornbread Dressing

Just in time for Thanksgiving shopping, I found my grandmother's recipe for Cornbread Dressing in the family heritage album Mama helped Emily make for a school project:

Ingredients:
Six or Eight home-made biscuits
One pan of cornbread
One quart of chicken broth
One large chopped onion
One cup of finely chopped celery
One small container of pimento (if desired for color)
Four medium fresh eggs
Two tablespoons of sage
Salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper to taste

Carmelize onions
Simmer onions and celery in chicken broth for about fifteen minutes
Crumble cornbread and biscuits finely in a large pot 
Add chicken broth, celery, and onion to cornbread/biscuit mixture
Add pimento if desired
Add seasonings
Mixture should be soupy
Add broth or water if mixture is too thick
Beat four eggs and fold gently into the mixture
Pour into large casserole or baking pan
Top with parsley and paprika for color if desired
Bake at 359 degrees until firm (about forty minutes)
Serve with gravy

Gravy used would have been Giblet Gravy
I prefer Redeye Gravy

Grandmama's Sandwiches

Today is National Sandwich Day. Grandmama told me that sandwiches were named for the Earl of Sandwich who needed to reach his armed forces quickly and didn't have time to sit for dinner, so he asked the servant to just put a piece of meat between two slices of bread and he would take it with him. Thus, the sandwich was born. To my understanding, there are many variations of this legend, but they all agree that the sandwich was named for the 4th Earl of Sandwich.

Grandmama enjoyed making sandwiches for lunch. She had some unusual but crazy tasty combinations. Here are my favorites:

The Tomato Sandwich:
Peeled, ripe tomatoes, toasted white bread, salt and pepper, and mayonnaise (actually, I think she used Miracle Whip, but I don't recommend it)

The Pineapple Sandwich:
4 slices of canned pineapple rings, 1 slice of American Cheese, toasted white bread, and mayonnaise

And my favorite... The Peanut Butter and Bacon Sandwich - which was just as it sounds

Enjoy National Sandwich Day!

Erie F. Pierce - Post-War Germany Assignment

In 1953 my grandfather, Erie Pierce, received an assignment to be in Germany for three years. He went on ahead to prepare the household for the family, and to begin his duties as the Commander of the Independent Medical Batallion which served the First Infantry Division. My dad says that in addition to setting up house for his wife and children, he also kept an apartment for his mistress. I have the romantic notion that he only had the one mistress - he told my mother before he died that he really only ever loved one woman. A half British and half East Indian nurse that he met in the war. He even asked his sisters to sponsor her so she could move to the US. They declined. Of course, it broke my grandmother's heart when a letter from this woman beat him home. So, I suspect this was the same woman if he was willing to get her an apartment - as he was a very frugal person. He also told me once that the best vacation he ever had was to Havana sometime just before Americans were not allowed to go there anymore. Grandmama never went to Cuba, so I suspect this was also with this woman. Daddy says he was just a womanizer and he had multiple ladies on the side. That's not as romantic. At any rate, Granddaddy went on to Germany sometime early in 1953 to begin his duties.

My dad had to leave Crewe, VA. A place they had lived for about three years, and his favorite place that he ever lived. He had a best friend there which is not easy for an Army Brat to acquire. They drove from VA to Brooklyn to a hotel on Clark Street - The George Washington Hotel where he and his brother enjoyed the saltwater swimming pool. The next morning they had to drive their car to Pier 91 for the car to be transported to Germany.

 On September 16, 1953, Daddy, "Rick" Pierce,  his brother, Ron, and my grandmother, Virginia Pierce set sail for Germany aboard the USNS PVT Elden H Johnson, an old victory ship from WWII  bound for Bremerhaven, Germany from NY, NY. Rick had to stay below deck with the junior officers because he was already 13. Ron and Grandmama stayed above deck. Daddy made friends with the ship's chaplain who taught him how to play chess and gave him the traveling chess set they used, which I now possess. Some of the crew gave Ron and Rick German lessons which they took to very well. One of the men Rick met below deck was a CIA officer who had a briefcase that would just fall away and a gun would be in its place. The handle of the case concealed a roll of gold coins.

They lived in Wurzburg in the Bergermeister's house. It had 17 rooms and a garden. They had two maids, a chauffeur, and a gardener with servant quarters on the grounds. Rick attended Benjamin Franklin Junior High and one of his teachers was Miss Halliburton, whose brother, Richard Halliburton was a renowned writer. The Complete Book of Marvels is still available on Amazon. Rick had made friends and even had a girlfriend there. Ron, Rick, and Virginia were all very happy to have this adventure.  They frequented the fancy officer's club, which had been a Nazi club. Daddy says there was an eagle holding a swastika on the outside of it. Chilling. But they enjoyed the events and dinners nonetheless.

Granddaddy's affair was discovered by his superiors. This was and continues to be a big deal in the Army. He was stripped of his rank and busted back down to Master Sergeant. It must have been one hell of a Christmas. They departed Rhein-Main in Frankfurt, Germany en route to Idlewild, NY on December 27, 1953, on Seaboard and Western Airlines. There were 28 passengers aboard. The plane caught fire! They made an emergency landing in Ireland. The plane was quickly repaired and the trip resumed. Somewhere above Canada, the plane caught fire, again and began to dive! The family thought this was it. Fortunately, the pilot managed to regain control of the plane and they landed safely in Newfoundland. They were there for three days before their arrival back in NY on Dec. 30, 1953. Because Granddaddy was the highest ranked officer on the plane, he had to go before a Congressional Committee regarding the crash. He spent the rest of his military career as a Reserve Advisor at Boston Army Base. He regained his rank before he retired in 1959, and retired as a Lieutenant Colonel.