It was during the Great Depression, in 1932 or 1933, that my Aunt Ethel, a mother of two sons, lost her husband. The boys, Warren and Walter, nicknamed "Buddy," were about 8 and 7.
Times were hard. Aunt Ethel, a hard-working woman, earned money cooking and baking Swedish goodies. One day, when people saw a piano being hoisted up to Aunt Ethel's apartment, some said that a poor widow shouldn't waste her money on such a frivolous thing. What they didn't know was that the piano was free, a gift from a friend, and that The Salvation Army had paid to have the piano hauled up the side of the building and into her third-floor walkup flat.
The piano was for the boys, who had become interested in music at the Army, where they had learned to play piano as well as brass horns. In those days, the Army brass band performed in the streets. By the time they were in high school, both boys had become valued members of the band, and both played the piano into adulthood.
Warren became the mayor of his hometown of Berlin, Conn., and Buddy, at age 21 in August 1945, lost his life a scant two weeks before the end of World War II. He was flying as a navigator on a Liberator. bomber mission over Tokyo. I still have the last letter Buddy wrote to me, just four months before his death, while I was in college. His last line was, "Cuz, tell all the girls I still love them."
The Salvation Army played a very important part in the lives of my cousins. I credit the caring and loving people of the Army with directing them to become Christians and enjoy fulfilling lives.
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