I was seventeen when I quit high school and joined the Marine Corps with three friends. Mr G my history teacher tried in vain to convince me that it was a bad idea, he also insisted that I shave my beard. Mrs F my english teacher, drama coach cried and pleaded with me to finish high school.
Boot camp at Parris Island was hard, many recruits were eliminated because of physical and sometimes emotional weaknesses. In the first week a recruit was found sneaking a cigarette and the entire platoon’s smoking privileges were taken away.
In the third week I was called to the platoon office, there was a phone call. It was my girlfriends father. After some quick pleasantries he told me his daughter was pregnant. He asked me if I loved her and if I would marry her. I said yes. He said not to worry he would take care of everything and that I should concentrate on my Marine training. I never heard another word. I completed boot camp and advanced infantry training and went home on leave. My girlfriend, and her parents were no where to be found.
I had orders to go to the Third Marine Division based on Okinawa.
That was 1959, now in 2017 I’m retired and enjoying watching reruns on the television that I never got to watch during my working life. Law and Order reruns are new to me. Binge watching Dr Who, a pleasure denied me in the past. Questions about the colonies before independence have been answered through reading numerous books and a few documentaries. One wonders if we might have been better off if we had remained with the English and be a member of the commonwealth with the other 53 countries.
I had time to research my family history to find the first ancestor arriving here in 1640 and that my sixth great grandmother was the daughter of indian chief King Phillip.
Retirement also provides the time to reflect on the past and wonder where people are now that were a part of your life. Sally the waitress in Chicago. Johnny the young staff engineer that was kept by a rich older woman. Sister Jane, a nun that was last heard of in the jungles of South America. Fond memories of these individuals.
Once in a while dreams come. Always wonder what caused them and what they mean.
The other night I dreamt that a lady knocked on my door and announced that she was my daughter. I do have a daughter, this was not her.
She told me she was the result of the pregnancy with my girlfriend in 1959. She had been put up for adoption and had been raised in a loving caring family. Her adoptive parents told her she was adopted when she was in her early twenties.
She had retired and decided she would try to find her biological parents, she found me.
This dream was so real and there was no doubt about the basis of it.
Could it be possible? If it is, I hope she finds me, I’d love to meet her.
Short Stories
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Personally, I don’t like reading too much into dreams, but do think that they can reveal parts of ourselves that we wouldn’t have otherwise known. Maybe you’re feeling unresolved about your relationship of ’59 and are ready to take steps toward closure? Heh…I have this hobby of learning about dreams, so take what I just said with a grain of salt.
Anyway, you’ve managed to write another relateable piece! Very recently in my own life I’ve been having very vivid dreams about people I knew when I was a kid. The most recent being of Jacob, a boy who was always kind to me and had an infectious smile. In the dream, we lived across from each other in an apartment building in NY….I hope we meet again and I hope you meet your daughter someday.
Thank you for your kind review.