The Red Flannel Rag

was still clean when I went to look at it. Then, I started noticing a layer of dust on the

windshield and hood. Each time I visited the car the dust was thicker. I wondered if the

car would start when Dad got home. The thicker the dust on the car, the longer I knew

he had been gone. I worried I would never see Dad again.

Finally, the war in Germany was over. Mom was beside herself with joy and

promised us he would be home soon. Dad did get home, but it was for only a brief time.

He had to go back to the army and was going to be shipped to Japan. He was in

Oklahoma on a train heading for California when the Japanese surrendered and the war

ended.

He got home to stay in the late fall of 1945. I remember the morning when he

finally came home to stay. I was five years old. I got out of bed and saw him lying across

Mom's bed. He was still in his uniform. I jumped up and kissed him. He took his arm

and knocked me away and said, "Get the hell away from me."

Brenda, who was now two years old, had gotten out of bed. She was standing in

the bedroom door. Only a curtain separated the bedroom from the living room where

Mom’s bed sat in the corner. Brenda had her little arms wrapped around the curtain

and was sucking her thumb as her big brown eyes stared at the strange man on the bed

with Mom. The image was planted in my brain forever.

Dad sat up on his elbow and looked at Brenda. He said, “That’s the ugliest kid I

have ever seen.” Mom said to him, “She looks exactly like you.” That was the start of

our family life after Dad returned from the war.

Mom tried to explain to me why Dad had changed. She said, “The daddy you

knew before the war never came back home. The army took a good husband and daddy

and sent a mean one back to us.” I longed for the hugs that I got from him before he

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