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    Bob's Story
    Bob's Story
    Bob's Story
    Ebook125 pages1 hour

    Bob's Story

    By Robert E. Patterson

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    About this ebook

    When I returned from the Navy unscathed Dad said, You did the right thing, Son. I dont know how I responded to this but I knew in my own heart I had done the right thing. World War II is now ancient history and no one in todays world cares much whether I served or not, but I do!
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateNov 8, 2012
    ISBN9781477286319
    Bob's Story
    Author

    Robert E. Patterson

    I was born May 27, 1925. The home I lived in then with my parents had no plumbing or electricity. The home I live in today is air-conditioned, has a computer, a flat screen TV, a microwave oven, a cell phone on the table, and a newspaper talking about space exploration. By the grace of God I survived two years of military service in World War II. Medical science brought me through cancer, open-heart surgery, and a stroke. Recalling some of my time has been a journey that has taken me quite a long time to complete. I’m happy to share the journey with you. I hope you will enjoy it.

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      Book preview

      Bob's Story - Robert E. Patterson

      BOB’S STORY

      Robert E. Patterson

      ah_.png

      AuthorHouse™

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403

      www.authorhouse.com

      Phone: 1-800-839-8640

      © 2012 by Robert E. Patterson. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse 10/31/2012

      ISBN: 978-1-4772-8632-6 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4772-8631-9 (e)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2012920475

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      Chapter 29

      Chapter 30

      Chapter 31

      Chapter 32

      Chapter 33

      Chapter 34

      Chapter 35

      Chapter 36

      Chapter 37

      Chapter 38

      Chapter 39

      Chapter 40

      Chapter 41

      Chapter 42

      Chapter 43

      Chapter 44

      Chapter 45

      Chapter 46

      Chapter 47

      Chapter 48

      Chapter 49

      Chapter 50

      Chapter 51

      Thanks

      About the Author

      DEDICATION

      This book is dedicated to my sons, their children, their children, and on and on. My hope is that by learning some details of my life, their lives will be enriched.

      TO YOU, MY FAMILY

      AND FRIENDS

      I was born May 27, 1925. The home I lived in then with my parents had no plumbing or electricity. The home I live in today is air-conditioned, has a computer, a flat screen TV, a microwave oven, a cell phone on the table, and a newspaper talking about space exploration. By the grace of God I survived two years of military service in World War II. Medical science brought me through cancer, open-heart surgery, and a stroke.

      Recalling some of my time has been a journey that has taken me quite a long time to complete. I’m happy to share the journey with you. I hope you will enjoy it.

      Robert Eugene Patterson

      Chapter 1

      In a sense, I guess one might say this is my September Song. My days have dwindled down to a precious few, so I guess it is high time that I put into action what I planned to do years ago. The idea first occurred to me about twenty-five years ago. It is now April 8, 2010.

      Beulah and I were walking past Paul Hadley Junior High School on one of our night time walks contemplating what we might wish to do after my upcoming retirement from the Mooresville Consolidated School Corporation. I announced that one of the things I planned to do was write my memoirs. I instantly realized that I had made a poor choice of words as Beulah bordered on the verge of hysterics in laughter. I would not have been totally surprised if she would have held her sides and rolled around in the street. She thought it was so funny. Memoirs certainly wouldn’t fit a guy like me. It sounded very pretentious and usually is reserved for people who have experienced note worthy accomplishments sometime during the course of their lives. It was simply a very poor choice of words on my part—a slip of the tongue. After the laughter subsided I conveyed to her my real intentions. I did not plan to write anything which even remotely resembled an autobiography. Too many times that had been required of me during my high school and college years. I simply wished to relate some of my life experiences which I still recall after eighty-four years of life on planet earth. There will be no order to them in terms of time or space. I will talk about things which happened long ago and some which may have taken place just last week. Some things may have happened nearby or they may have taken place in some distant part of the world a long way from Mooresville, Indiana. I have the luxury of writing whatever I please for the only ones who will critique what I have to say will most probably be a few good friends and relatives. If they find it boring or of no interest to them they can toss it aside and get on with whatever they might be choosing to do.

      ~b~

      Chapter 2

      Why am I doing this?? Why does anyone do this? In talking to my wife at lunch today I told her that possibly a certain amount of ego is involved, in that we, as human beings, never wish to be completely forgotten. Since only One Being who occupied space on this earth has proved to be immortal, the rest of us are here only on a temporary basis. The lyrics of that old song, The Halls of Ivy, remind us that One day a hush will fall, the footsteps of us all will echo down the hall and disappear.

      Another reason that I personally, have chosen to do this is the fact that I wish I could have known more about some of my family who preceded me.

      As an example, I was the youngest of my immediate family so I really only remember one grandparent—a grandmother. We didn’t have a close relationship but I recall two or three things about her. When I was a little kid and we visited her she would usually give me a nickel or dime. I also recall she had bad breath. My grandmother lived with us for a period of time when I was very young—how long I don’t remember. After I had grown up my mother told me a few things about grandma. She told me that grandma was very argumentative and would get down on a child’s level while having a difference of opinion with them. I have a large scar on the top of my right foot to bear witness to the fact that this was true. During one of these episodes I tried to kick my grandma but my mother intervened by extending her foot over mine so I would not make contact. She was wearing a pair of worn out shoes which caused the problem. (Times were tough!) A steel arch support protruded through the sole and was razor sharp. The blood flew but I was not taken to the doctor for stitches. Instead, like most injuries in those days, a clean cloth and a little salve was applied. Poetic justice for a disrespectful child—maybe so, but my grandmother was not a very nice person.

      As an adult, I learned on more than one occasion grandma had been very mean to my mother when my dad was not around the house. I also recall reading a paper written by one of my uncles which stated that grandma was a very mean-spirited person and he had nothing good to say about her. Her own son, making these comments seemed to justify some of my thoughts regarding her. I will say, however, that she did not enjoy an easy life. Taking care of an invalid husband for a period of eight years would be a challenging task even in today’s

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