In 1945, when WWII ended, my dad came home after being stationed in Europe for nearly two years. My mom didn't have a car so when he was discharged and sent home by way of St. Louis, Missouri...the nearest city to us...she borrowed my grandmother's car to go get him. Even though I was just four, I have a very clear memory of him coming home. When he arrived, my sister, second grade, was at school so he put me up on his shoulder and we walked down to the school to get her. It was recess so all the kids were outside playing. He was in uniform and with me on his shoulder, all the kids began to shout, "Judy, your dad is here!!!" With Judy in hand, me on his shoulder, and all the kids racing around us, we made quite a parade going up those impressive steps to tell her teacher that he was taking her home. Coming home from the war to a small town was a great celebration for the whole town. Judy's teacher just happened to be mother of a good friend of my dad's who was also soon coming home and had probably taught both my mom and dad, too....she would be my second grade teacher also...a story yet to come.