My dad, Armand Gabriel Charest, was
a US Army veteran of World War II. I knew this growing up as he would talk a
lot about his Army adventures. We even attended a reunion of his 41st Division
in 1971. He always expressed pride in being a soldier and pride in his role
during WWII. But there were things about his army service I didn’t know until
he wrote his memoirs in 2002.
Then there were some things about
his Army service I didn’t know until after he passed, which left questions for
which I’ll probably never have answers.
I had the distinct experience of attending my forty-year high school class reunion several weeks ago. It was the first reunion I’ve been to, and it brought up a flood of memories and feelings I haven’t dealt with since graduation.
I grew up in Farmingdale, Long Island, New York, attending schools in the Farmingdale school district from Kindergarten until end of my high school sophomore year. In 1972 we moved from Farmingdale to the “upstate” Hudson Valley region of New York. I graduated from Pine Bush High School in June of 1974.
I’ve written extensively about the life-changing event that was Hurricane Katrina. However, I haven’t written about another hurricane which had almost as much of an impact. That would be Ivan, which made landfall on the US Gulf Coast early on the morning of September 16, 2004, one year prior to Katrina. Although my home and the community of Gautier, Mississippi, was not directly impacted Ivan had deeply personal consequences.
As the tenth anniversary of Hurricane Ivan’s landfall approaches I’ve decided it’s time to share my story.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a hammer that I lost over 35 years ago. Rather, I’ve been thinking about losing that hammer and how I lost it. It involves my maternal grandfather, a school play, and a high school teacher whom I still consider to be one of the most inept teachers I suffered through during my entire public school career.
Winnie and I added some new technology to our house this past week. We gained the first landline house telephone we’ve had since moving to Virginia. While this doesn’t sound like that much of an event, it’s gotten me to thinking about the changes in phone technology I’ve seen over the years.
For better or worse, it seems that the vehicles I’ve owned over the years seem to match the phase of my life. From the time I earned to drive at age 18, I’ve now owned thirteen four-wheeled vehicles of one type or another.
In October 1999 Robert (Bobby) Garwood moved in next door to me. I welcomed and treated him as a friend and neighbor. Within two years he destroyed my marriage and smeared me with vile lies. Part II of II
In October 1999 Robert (Bobby) Garwood moved in next door to me in the quiet town of Gautier, Mississippi. I welcomed and treated him as a friend and fellow veteran. Within two years he destroyed my marriage, smeared me with vile lies, and turned my life upside down. Part I of II
This is the second part of Armand’s story about traveling in Albania. In Part I he discussed his first trip there with a private aid group originating in Naples, Italy. At that time Armand was staying with my first wife and I just south of Naples, while I was stationed there with NATO. Several months after his first trip, Armand went back on his own to perform additional relief work and explore. This is his account of the second trip.
Armand wrote and attempted to have his story, “Eyewitness to 1984,” published about 1997. He did get Part I published in a travel magazine that folded immediately afterwards. As Armand retained copyrights and publications rights, he let me also publish it on a travel website I operated at the time. However, this is the first time the second part of his story has ever been published.
This has been edited for obvious spelling and grammatical errors, and formatted for best presentation on this website. Otherwise, this story is exactly as Armand wrote it.
Chapter One – Ulli
It was with a sense of apprehension and anticipation that I embarked on my second trip to Albania in August, 1992. I wondered if my mixed emotions were due to the fear of undertaking a journey alone to a strange country. But I considered myself a seasoned traveler and I had been there before. So I had to admit to myself that my hesitation had something to do with discovering that perhaps some of our unfinished projects were just that. I realized also that I looked forward to seeing the lady doctor again. There was only one certainty—this trip would be on a more personal level than the first one.
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