"Love After Life" property of Julianna Rowe

                   “LOVE AFTER LIFE”…… Once Upon Two Lifetimes

                                    

 Introduction:

“In my new life,” I saw and heard things that could not be identified.  Sounds in the middle of the night, lights flickering, dreams that not only seemed real but were real, and more often I sensed those unidentified unseen conditions around me. 

 I would meet someone I knew but didn’t know.  I could feel that person like they were inside me, like they were part of me yet I had no memory of how I might have known them.

And then I saw him….I starred uncomfortably as he smiled through a veil I couldn’t make sense of.  Confusion swallowed me momentarily like a flash of light during the day.  He handed me his business card.  Unusual, but his signature glowed like it was alive reaching out to me.  Little did I know the glow was hiding a deadly emotional fire.

And in the end we soared the Universe together…. We tasted colors…. 

Love After Life………“ONCE UPON TWO LIFETIMES”

By Julianna Rowe

Part I                       

               

Narrated by Julie.

Chapter One….  Willie and Me

I was there. Seated in our perfectly manicured pink kitchen staring at the perfectly matched black and white squares that made up the floor I walked on every day of my life. Mother loved pink and saved every dime she earned doing laundry for friends and neighbors allowing her the ability to purchase her brand new pink washer and dryer. Not to forget our oh so pink stove and polished chrome chairs with black leather seats. Father would have never given mother as much as one dollar of his money for such nonsense as he would call it. Yet she also managed to save quite a bit off the weekly grocery money he gave her. Mother always found a way to overcome any and all adversity in our lives. This was a learned practice from the time she could remember.  Her childhood not being the best and that would be putting it mildly. She was trained to be tough, having had to sleep in a box car as well as an old chicken coop. Her and her siblings would heat bricks over an outside fire then haul them inside the old coop, placing them near the bed blankets for warmth. Her father had left the family for parts unknown.  Said he would return after he made his fortune. That day never came for Grandmother and her five children.  A woman on her own in 1941 meant very hard times. I can’t say mother never complained because she did. I heard every horrible story of her life she could recall.  How they cooked and ate her pet chicken. Not telling her until the middle of dinner after she had eaten her portion, then laughing at her as she threw up the hideous uncaring memory of eating Mazie, her best friend. The many men her mother entertained, sometimes putting little “Babe” between her and a strange man for protection. Really awful stories no child should ever have to endure. 

And then she met my father. Spoiled he was, the youngest of a family of eight. And I mean youngest. All the other siblings were grown when he was unexpectedly conceived.  You see, Grandmother was told she would never bare any more children after a terrible fall from a hay wagon onto a pitchfork that pierced her private parts as unimaginable as that sounds it was fact. Nevertheless along came little Ronald whose older sisters and brothers spoiled him beyond the word. So when he met mother he expected to be similarly soured as he had been, and so she did. Once again leaving her with accepted and possibly unintentionally predestined hard times.

One blessing was mother’s rich sister Aggie who secretly dropped off care packages with cash money tucked inside the pockets of the clothes she bought for all of us.  If father had any caring other than himself he would have noticed and been grateful but he did not which was to our benefit or he would have snatched the hidden money for with no regret. For some strange reason he didn’t want us to be happy. He reminded me of the old man Scrooge in the book “The Ghost of Christmas Past.” Either way that was our life, my brother’s, mine, and mothers. I am sure that is the reason I cleaved to Willie all my growing up years. I always considered Willie to be more my family than the one I was born into.   

Yet I was there with that very family when the radio blared the declaration of war directly into our perfectly pink kitchen. None of us ever imagined life would take such a radical turn for the worse.    We were seated at the chrome dinner table about to say a blessing upon the thick; I think German, macaroni and cheese casserole Mom had prepared.  We, being my brother Jackson and I, Julie. We listened when Father held up the notorious hand that meant, SILENCE!  That is when we heard the voice of the President of the United States coming across the airways with the chill of an icicle on each word he spoke. 

“Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, Members of the Senate, and of the House of Representatives:

Yesterday, December 7th, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.

Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. And while this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or of armed attack.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.

The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.

Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack against Malaya.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands.

Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island.

And this morning, the Japanese attacked Midway Island.

Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday and today speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation.

As Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us.

No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.

I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory, and our interests are in grave danger.

With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph—so help us God.

I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire.”

I kept interrupting saying, “Father, does that mean Willie, does it? Will he have to go?” 

Father just gave me the old angry and I mean it eyebrow crunch, hand up signal. I sat in silence listening to the terrifying words.  My mind racing in so many different directions I lost myself to the place of tears.  Mom was standing behind Jackson, her baby son, crying in like manner. He was always her favorite. Our home was filled with photos of Jackson doing this, Jackson doing that, but only one of me nearly hidden on a shelf behind the big chair in the living room. You see I reminded mother of one of her less than socially acceptable sisters. Mother was a sweet woman but when it came to her sister Buella she fell short of kind. I wasn’t allowed to visit Auntie B or touch her if we accidentally ran into her in private or public. Mother said I might catch something dirty should I get too close. How rather silly I thought to myself.  Father on the other hand was only too eager to touch Auntie B. It was the only time I caught rage in my mother’s eyes. One day we were alone in the house and I inquired as to why she acted so strange when father got too close to Auntie Buella. She told me a few months after they were married and she was newly pregnant with me my father stayed overnight with her sister.  My eyes got big as a full moon rising and I murmured, “You mean, they, they……”

Mother said, “Yes, they, they!” Somehow in her mind father being unfaithful to her while pregnant with me triggered disfavor between us and our relationship as far back as I could recall. And then just as quickly as my mind had gone into a memory trance regarding my mother loving my brother more than me it came back to the reality of the moment.

At first I wasn’t mentally aware of what was truly happening.  The radio, Fathers anger, Mom crying, and me alone in my head with Willie, where was Willie and to Hell with the macaroni and cheese dinner.  I sprang from my chair running toward the phone.  I lifted the mouthpiece only to find the operator telling everyone they would have to wait their turns. Then a sound that mimicked busy busy busy.  Running or even biking to Willie’s would be faster than waiting for the darn operator, who was at that moment trying to put at least a hundred people on hold while connecting others one at a time. Why… her manual plug in cords must have been near fire hot! Once my wits were back to me I realized those phones would not be available for a month now that war had been declared.  That is when I heard the loud whaling voice of my mother behind me.  “Julie, wait!  Wait!”  I ignored her and with one hard push I hit the screen door and then the pavement, running, running to Willie.

Willie and I had been best friends all through grade school. We had been over all the normal schoolyard games such as marbles, London Bridges by the way which not a positive game is for children I came to learn. My mom told me historians believe the rhyme itself refers to a superstitious practice of killing and burying a child at the bridge site to keep it from collapsing. After learning of this I shared it with the other girls on the playground who remained screaming off and on during every “London Bridges falling down falling down, London Bridges falling down, my fair lady!” And then we would move onto skipping, chasings, hidings, marbles which mostly the boys did. We girls did knucklebones,” better known as Jacks.  Throw the little ball into the air, grab as many metal starbursts as you can and hold them in the same hand while smacking your knuckles on the cement as you scoop them up and catch the ball you just threw into the air as it falls to the cement or dirt. Lest I not forget Red Rover Red Rover! Sometimes I would join the girls for hopscotch and jacks.  Willie would play ball and chase with the boys but always we would meet up to have lunch together most every day.  The other children made fun of us the first few years and then settled in knowing it was probably always going to be this way, Willie Donns and Julie Bloodsworth.

U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Leo J. Husak, 21, of West, Texas. (photo courtesy of: Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency)