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My dad was born in Chicago in a family of 11 children. The family later moved to Wisconsin. I believe my dad's first job (aside from working on the farm of course) was as an ambulance driver. His dream was to become a state trooper, but for some reason that never came to pass. He joined the army instead, and that became his career. For some reason, even though I was pretty young, I remember the day he left for Vietnam. My mom was holding me as she said goodbye to him, and after he left, I remember she was crying and she said to me (probably more for herself), "We'll be alright, won't we!". I remember not understanding any of it, and feeling afraid seeing my mom cry. He did return...I remember that day too...and we all went to the airport.
After 20 years, he retired from the army, and took a job with a company repairing large factory machinery. He eventually moved to New Mexico, and got a job doing the same thing.
In January 2000, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He moved back to Wisconsin, and lived with my brother and SIL. He died that October. My brother and I were at his side as he passed, each holding one of his hands.
After 20 years, he retired from the army, and took a job with a company repairing large factory machinery. He eventually moved to New Mexico, and got a job doing the same thing.
In January 2000, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He moved back to Wisconsin, and lived with my brother and SIL. He died that October. My brother and I were at his side as he passed, each holding one of his hands.