Danke, Papa

Nana and Papa DeSimone, in their day, were the avidest of avid world travelers. Mexico, Ireland, Italy, the world was their oyster - scratch that, my maternal grandmother is extremely allergic to shellfish - the world was their, let’s say, $9.99 Prime Rib Special.

My grandfather earned his travel chops the hard way – World War II. He participated in the European theater as a field medic, saw his fair share of nightmares and made the most of his time overseas by exploring where and when he was able. He even had a girlfriend in Paris. Michelle Dupont, he likes to point out in front of my grandmother for a rousing chuckle, may still be waiting for him on, “one of those bridges over that river.”

They haven’t been able to travel in recent years, even squashing their annual snowbird migration to Hallandale, Florida. They’d be the first to curse the knees, the hips, the heart and the hearing.
But nothing can hide the gleam that undoubtedly sparks in their eyes when they start reminiscing about their travels together. Nana sees very little, but she sees those mental pictures without any glasses, more vivid than any HDTV.

I like to think of Papa as the original American Husband in Paris, before he was even a husband. He seized an opportunity. He saw whatever he could, experienced whatever he could experience. And despite the horrors of war he witnessed, the only memories he shares are unabashedly joyous and distinctly humorous.

Danielle and I stopped by to see them earlier this evening, hoping to get a few travel tips and maybe a story or two. They didn’t disappoint. My grandmother corrected Papa during a story about a Mexican salesman who told my grandmother she was too “grande” to wear the shawls he sold out of his kiosk.
But the highlight was the small 4 inch by 4 inch German Language Guide my grandfather dug out of his closet. On the inside cover it reads:

War Department
Washington 25, D.C.. 22 June 1943.
TM 30-306, German Language Guide, to be used with the Introductory Series Language Records, is published for military personnel only, and is not to be republished in whole or part without the consent of the War Department. By order of the Secretary of War:
G.C. Marshall, 
Chief of Staff.

There is an Archie comics-esque cartoon on the next page depicting four G.I.s sitting around a record player, presumably practicing their German. Each one has a confounded look and the small Dachshund dog with them appears to be howling at their ineptitude (The weiner dog is all over the booklet, I’m guessing he’s the least offensive representative of German culture they could come up with in 1943). It is quite awesome. The comics run throughout, each one is of U.S. soldiers mocking each other for their poor bilingualism. There’s even a general in a bathtub that looks suspiciously like Wilford Brimley.

It’s not so much that this little booklet is from 1943 or that it has outdated maps and possibly offensive cartoons lavishing its pages. I think it’s the fact that my grandfather kept this thing as a memento of his time overseas. Tonight, when he gave it to me, he said he wished he kept the French one too.

Danke, Papa. We can’t wait to share our stories with you both.