We had his dog tags, his wings, and many photos of our of dad looking both serious and smiling broadly. We knew he loved the Army and flying and today my sons have his dog tags and wings. But we were never allowed to ask about his World War II experiences. He often woke up with nightmares. The next morning mother would say, “Don’t ask him anything.” But we never understood why.
He had been stationed in Florida. And if we tried to question, our mother would give us “the look.” She would then change the subject to his love of flying.
Despite his military experience, which long remained a mystery, we did know that he loved to fly and was proud to have what is now rare, the Army Air Corps insignia attached to his sleeve.
When the memory thief began hijacking his mind, he began talking of events of his past and even his military days much more openly. We began to see what troubled him — the war at home.
It was just recently that I began researching my father’s history and came to learn that the Sunshine State had become a military training ground. It seems that enemy U-boats sank at least 24 ships off the Florida coast near Miami and Jacksonville, and special group was formed to prevent further attacks. As a pilot, our father began talking about flight operations dispatched from Florida — the war on our shores.
I could not really understand the secrecy surrounding Florida until accounts from the New England Historical Society revealed an alleged pattern of denial about military operations along the East Coast.
As our father’s dementia worsened, he went through a period of anger. He talked of being a bombardier and of the Army Air Corps. However, when he became agitated, instead of letting him talk of the negativity of his past, we focused on positive experiences in his present and his glory days with Frank Sinatra. 
We would almost immediately see a mood change for the better.
Poppy was a gift-giving man whose joy with his grandchildren ranged from making paper airplanes to creating snow huts. When his talk of his Army days went from the thrill of flying to a sudden agitation, perhaps he was looking to tell us that one day he came to realize that bombs hit boats and inside boats, there were people.
Memoir Writing: In writing a memoir about growing up with Italian grandparents, I came to see all the questions we might have asked our father. Today it is too late, but perhaps in creating memoirs for our children and grandchildren, with their inquisitiveness and sharing, we are creating family richness and unity.
Happy Birthday, Poppy.