Charlie Kidd has been gone for quite awhile now — may God rest his soul.
Charlie was from what Tom Brokaw called “The Greatest Generation.” Charlie was an infantryman throughout WWII, fighting through Africa into Italy and then onto the beaches of Normandy and onward to Berlin.
He was naturally curious about newcomers — rural folk usually are — and when he found out the family dog had killed the children’s cat because of stress over the family’s move to West Virginia, he went to town, planted himself in the main intersection, stopped each car as it approached until he found someone with a litter of kittens. He secured one for delivery, greatly consoling the children.
Charlie was not a wealthy man — he was a retired rural mail carrier. But he was a philanthropist of great merit, because his gifts to the community were enabled by frugal savings from a modest income. He gave his church a handicapped access ramp and asked Grandfather how to protect the church’s stained glass windows from BB gun holes inflicted by a neighborhood brat.
Grandfather told him Lexan plastic outer windows would do, so Charlie bought them and had them installed. In typical fashion, he asked the pastor to accompany him to the parking lot, pulled out a revolver and shot a piece of Lexan lying on the ground.
Just wanted to demonstrate Lexan’s utility, Charlie said, but Pastor knew Charlie was more interested in scaring the bejeebers out of him.
Ah, RD, Charlie sounds like my late uncle – who also was in Normandy.
My uncle quietly paid for a kitchen for the gun club, and got me a really nice hatchet and knife set to wear when I went backpacking – which is the kind of thing he did.
When we buried him, he still carried shrapnel in his left knee.
Soon, all of our WWII vets will be gone. They will be sorely missed by our society, IMO.
A later “Grandfather Says” article will tell the story of another, who never came home.
When Ma and I went across the pond to fulfill her dream of visiting Alderney, part of our Journey was visiting The Beaches. Naturally, Charlie was discussed! One of the American Tourists, Sydney, was one that stormed the beaches. Late June of 1990 was 50 years after this historic day. This trip was Sydney’s first return back. We were blessed to have a living History lesson not altered by truth twisted beyond recognition.
Hi daughter! I remember when you and Grandmother (your Mom) visited the English Channel Islands and Normandy.
I stayed home and tended my cattle.
I always enjoy these articles.
I enjoy them too, JB! It is an honor to have Dave’s writings here.
… And I’m in your debt, Len. Nothing ever would have been written, if it hadn’t been for your blog.
The children now have their Dad’s recollections written down, although one or more of them remembers one or more episodes with one or more differences.
Parents cannot be seen through the eyes of their children.
What a fantastic read! It brought a smile to my face because I knew a man like Mr. Kidd too.
Thanks for sharing his story Grandfather.
i always look forward to these articles. They bring me much joy. Way back in my youth, I was lucky enough to work with some WWII vets and they were the greatest generation.
I’m glad to hear that, David.
From time to time a WWII veteran appears on TV and I am always struck by their solid self-awareness. They know who they are and what they did and are not much affected by fashionable socioeconomic angst.
Recently I was able to attend a lecture by a 92 year old Marine who stormed the beaches at Iwo Jima. Don Graves is truly a remarkable gentleman who had us laughing one minute and near tears the next. He was a child of the Depression and imparted a few lessons on what is important in life, He really reinforced what my grandfather and other elders taught me years ago. Sadly, there were not many younger folks in attendance. Of all people, they could use a little history lesson that you won’t get on a mobile device.
When he asked us to sing “God Bless America” with him, we all stood and belted it out to the best of our ability. I walked out with a renewed sense of pride in those who served and fought for right.
Wouldn’t it be great if our high schools and colleges called assemblies in their auditoriums to hear Don Graves, as part of their history education?
There is not a day that passes without memories of Charlie coming to mind.
I showed up at the camp with a black eye. He asked what happened. He said I needed to go back and teach the kid a lesson. (The “kid” was 18, I was 13.) This taught me courage.
I crossed the street one time to avoid him as I was sauced. He mentioned this to my Dad. (RD) This taught me integrity.
I was a very troubled young man. Jobs were scarce in WV during the late 80s. RD suggested the ARMY, Charlie followed up later by telling me I needed to get training there that I could use in the “world.” This taught me how to optimize opportunity.
I returned home from Desert Storm. Charlie, out of the blue, told a story of a soldier’s decapitation from artillery fire. The round almost killed Charlie. This taught me to make the most out of life, that it’s short, and that I’m lucky I came home OK.
Upon retiring from the military Charlie recommended the VFW. He advised that I get my medical records to the service officer there. He also advised that I take the recommendations from said officer to the VA. I didn’t know it at the time but I have some serious health problems from the service. This taught me that pride goeth before the fall.
I will never forget Charlie Kidd. Thanks for introducing me to him. And for being a great Dad.
So true! I started late and kept going — but my four are sources of utter joy and pride. I wish I’d started earlier and had more!
And Erik is right: Thanks for being a great Dad.
BTW, Carolyn is an accomplished publisher , among her other gifts, and plans to publish a printed version of “Grandfather Says”, some day.