FCBA Day 31- La Junta and Dad: Ninety on the Ninth

This is our day of rest, and mine of remembrance.  

Roger William Major was born July 9^th 1923, ninety years ago today, the third child and second son of Napoleon Louis Major and Martha Nickerson. Napoleon was a haberdasher in Tarrytown NY who managed to keep his family in good order despite the conditions of the Great Depression. Dad finished his childhood under these conditions and remembered being ideal.

One of his greatest times was his ninth birthday on the ninth of July 1932. He was a favored child of Malcolm Murray, a wealthy gentleman in the community. Malcolm threw him a wonderful party, inviting all the children of his neighborhood and classmates from school. Dad loved fireworks and there were assortments provided in great abundance. When he grew his own family his son’s birthdays were an echo of his childhood favorite; turning nine on the ninth.

When his life doubled his childhood ended, for he turned 18 the year WWII came to America. He enlisted in the Army and did what men did in Patton’s 4^th Armored Division. Despite the enemy providing circumstance for his 9 purple hearts and other awards, Dad made these words possible through my creation. Eventually the wounds and his 83 years were enough, so he left us. Along with his stories he left me my name, manuscripts, photographs, questions I meant to ask and tales he intended to tell. One of the photographs contained a mystery; a photo taken of him in Czechoslovakia near the end of the war where he is wearing a wedding ring. I know of a love and half-sister from that time, but I never knew he was married.

My name comes from a brother he found through training and war named Mark Campanelli. I was telling this story while on this Fuller Center Bicycle Adventure when I was visited with an answer Dad gave me but I never listened for. The answer to the wedding ring I found in his manuscript ...funny about War:

“BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! . . . .. !

The very air around us seemed to explode!  [Mark] took off and I threw myself in his direction to catch him in two parts!  He was literally being held together by his uniform on one side.  He raised his hand with his wedding ring for me and died in my arms!  I slid the ring from his finger as a last order and went totally numb! “

Dad put the ring on his finger, and this mysterious picture was taken afterward. He brought the ring home to Mark’s widow to deliver with shared agony.

Tonight in La Junta the 101^st Army Band Concert Ensemble is performing in his honor. Ok, maybe not my Dad specifically, for it is to “honor America and her veterans with every note”, but in my heart it brings his memory and the love he had for my namesake to life. I love you Dad, and love never dies. Happy Birthday.