At the sound of the morning alarm he grabbed his pants and headed downstairs to begin his day. The process always sounded the same. The same jingle of the change in his pockets. The same creak of the top stair, the fifth stair, and the floor at the bottom. The water would run and change sound as it moved from cold to hot in the pipes. He would start his car and back out of the driveway and then proceed up the street. I had the sound of shifting from first, to second and to drive firmly locked into my memory like an old song. The timing was flawless.
He would return home by one thirty in the afternoon. He would take a nap and by four o'clock he was off to a second job as the head cook or chef at local restaurants such as, "The Chetwood" or "The Oasis" or the "Four Winds". He was home by eleven to prepare for the four thirty in the a.m. cycle to began again.
At age fifty seven, his heart required surgery and he needed to retire. He was able to use accumulated sick time, holidays, personal days and vacation time to receive a paycheck paid a period of more than a year so that he could retire at age sixty. His quality of life diminished greatly from year to year until the time of his death at age seventy seven.

He was not alone in his quest to give more to his children than what he had received. Those that served overseas in WWII came home anxious to work hard, raise a family and live the good life.

Did they succeed?

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