Chaos

Last night we were all sitting around the table for dinner. The toddler was in his highchair right next to Dad. Dad didn't even notice. He was too busy making up a story about World War II.

The truth: Dad was 24 when Pearl Harbor was bombed. He didn't volunteer; he waited to be called up in the draft. His family was from a denomination that didn't believe in fighting or killing, but still served in the military. There are medical corpmen from his church that have earned the Medal of Honor. So, with this background, Dad was given a clerical position and sent to England. That was the highlight of his life. He told the same WWII stories over, and over, and over until my brother and I could recite them along with him. Now, all memory of this time seems to be gone.

Dad's version: "I registered for the draft, but they never called me up. They said they forgot to call me up. They admitted it was there fault. I never served in the army. Now I'm too old to serve in the army. They don't want me now. It was their fault that they forgot to call me up. They admitted that they were to blame."

Dad was so worried about being "forgotton" in the draft than he didn't even notice the chaos going on around him. The toddler right next to him was making a total mess with the spaghetti Alfredo. Everyone was talking at once. All Dad cared about was his "lack of service."