I love America (and my grandparents too)

As I walked through the Grove in Los Angeles this weekend, I was happy to see so many flags and men in white Naval uniforms walking through the mall during “Fleet Week.” It triggered memories of my grandfathers who both served in the Pacific during WWII. I’ve also been thinking a lot about my great grandmother who lost her life crossing the Atlantic in 1943.

My maternal grandfather D. Forrest Greene (pictured above) was a lieutenant J.G. in the Navy assigned to a fuel transport ship. My paternal grandfather Dr. Richard P. Parkinson (pictured below) was a lieutenant the 82nd Airborne and later a Brigadier General in the California National Guard. In addition to being a combat soldier in the Pacific, he also served two tours of duty in Vietnam as a volunteer physician. I remember in 1991 when the Persian Gulf Crisis broke out, he wrote to our Congressman volunteering to go to Iraq as a medical volunteer. Despite his age, he always wanted to serve the country.

While she didn’t serve in the military (nor do I have a picture of her,) my maternal great grandmother has an interesting story that came to an end during WWII.

Asta Josephine Beyer was born in Oslo, Norway and was married to a Danish sea captain. In 1919, while docked in port in New York City, my grandmother Gerda Marie Beyer was born. When she was 19 years old, a Mormon missionary in Denmark encouraged her to claim her U.S. citizenship so she left for America and started her young life in San Fransisco.

In 1943, my grandmother’s mother, Asta set sail on a Merchant Navy ship from Norway to join her daughter in America. While en route, the ship was torpedoed by a German U-boat. The young man assigned to get my great grandmother to a life boat realized he forgot his wallet in the hull of the ship and went down to get it. When he returned on deck, my great grandmother had been washed overboard. Her death place is the Atlantic ocean.

What is remarkable to me is that we only know this story because the man who forgot his wallet wrote to my grandmother to take responsibility and apologize. She forgave him and thanked him for letting her know what had happened. My grandmother was only 24 years old when her mother was killed and I admired her for forgiving what most people would consider unforgivable.

I love America. My family loves America. And on this day, I just wanted to thank every member of the military for their service. Happy Memorial Day.