My Family Roots: Part I

Perhaps a good way to initiate a blog is to tell the reading audience about the writer! I "turn 54" in September and was born in the U. S. Naval Hospital in Jacksonville, Florida.

My father, the eldest of four (4) siblings that grew up in Baltimore in the 1920s and 1930s, was the son of a fireman and was reared Methodist. He served all the generally expected responsibilities of an eldest son/sibling. As a young boy, he used his "little red wagon" to market things; and as a young man worked at Montgomery Wards. His dad served in the U. S. Army in World War I, but did not serve in combat. Both of his brothers served in the military in World War II--one in the U. S. Army; the other in the U. S. Marines. His third sibling was a sister and she still lives in Ohio and mothered four (4) children--three (3) daughters and a son. Her husband worked on a car assembly plant in Ohio. Dad enlisted in the U. S. Marines in October 1941, mindful and aware that war was coming!

Following boot camp at Paris Island, S. C., he was sent to naval aviation supply school in Cincinatti, Ohio, whereupon, he was eventually shipped to the South Pacific to Henderson Field on the famed island of Guadalcanal. During a Japanese bombing of the airfield, he jumped into a foxhole to protect himself. Another Marine, seeking the same protection, jumped on top of my father, full force, resulting in the breaking of his nose. Dad was sent to New Zealand to recover and while there, contracted malaria. Dad is convinced this spared his life; both in the fact that with military losses, he had been recommended for promotion to second lieutenant; and more directly, the malaria led to him being sent back to the United States.

One of dad's brothers married and became a cabinet maker; the other likewise married and became a radio dispatcher with the Baltimore County Police Department. The former brother had no children and the latter, two daughters. With the four (4) children from my dad's only sister, I am not only an "only" child, but am also the only one of the seven (7) first cousins to carry on my dad's name, "Southcomb."

My mother, born the same year as my dad (1920) was born on March 23rd; my father, February 7th. Mother was born in Radford, Va., the daughter of two loving parents; and like the author of this blog, was an "only" child. I believe this reality, combined with my dad being the eldest son of four (4) siblings, had significant implications on both their marriage and, their rearing of me! This observation will assume new vitality in a subsequent blog. My mother's name was Jean; my dad's, Ken. My name is David.

Mother's dad served in the 101st Heavy Tank Battalion of the U. S. Army in World War I. His unit served in the Meuse-Argonne offensive and, he was blown out of the tank; struck with mustard gas; and shot in the back of the leg. He also hit his head on a rock and a knot formed on his temple. This would develop into brain cancer after the war. He served as an engineer with the Norfolk and Western Railroads following the war. His war injuries would lead to his untimely demise in 1939--my mother was 19, her mother was 39. My mother would largely call her mom, "Blue" for the rest of her life; my grandmother dying at 91 in 1991. She never remarried, but lived a loner's life in Radford, which is nestled high in the Allegheny Mountains.

More on my name, my mother's young adult life, how my parents met and married in the next installment.

With gratitude and grace,
David