for him in his dying days. I don’t know if he ever made his
peace with God or not; I hope he did. We had never talked
about God in all the years he was alive. The only thing he
ever said about God was the “the family that prays together,
stays together.” But we had never prayed together. By the
way, that is true. Prayer, as I have found out, does wonders
for a family, marriage, etc.
When my dad died, my mom and I moved to White Plains, NY, to try to start over in our lives. Prior to moving, the Marine Corps took a long time to resolve my case. I had asked if I could remain stateside, so as to be close to my dying father. The months seemed like decades to me, waiting for a response from USMC headquarters. Finally, the answer came. I could either go back to my parent unit (2nd Battalion First Marine Division) in South Vietnam, or take a discharge by reason of hardship. The Sgt. Major asked me to think it over through the weekend. There was nothing to think about, as far as I was concerned, but I got back to him on the following Monday. “I’ll take the discharge, Sir.” And the process started, which led to my discharge some months later. My mother and I were all that each other had. There was no money, no estate, only bills that my only and older brother, Bill, paid. He is one of those quiet people who has sacrificed his entire life and is always ready to help someone else. It was many years later before I found out all that he did to clear up bills that were left behind. He did this for the sake of the Grenier name, and because he is a man of character. Once in White Plains, we found a little room to rent; the bathroom was down the hall, as I remember. There was a hot plate to cook on, one bed to share, a table, a chair ... that’s about it. I got a job at the Westchester County Airport in White Plains, NY, pumping gas with the hope of moving up into the world of Corporate Aviation. I had used my GI bill after my discharge from the Marine Corps to get my Commercial Aviation Certificate and my Multi-Engine Rating. Starting at the airport held all the promise of moving up the proverbial ladder.
Coming tomorrow, Chapter 2 Part 5
When my dad died, my mom and I moved to White Plains, NY, to try to start over in our lives. Prior to moving, the Marine Corps took a long time to resolve my case. I had asked if I could remain stateside, so as to be close to my dying father. The months seemed like decades to me, waiting for a response from USMC headquarters. Finally, the answer came. I could either go back to my parent unit (2nd Battalion First Marine Division) in South Vietnam, or take a discharge by reason of hardship. The Sgt. Major asked me to think it over through the weekend. There was nothing to think about, as far as I was concerned, but I got back to him on the following Monday. “I’ll take the discharge, Sir.” And the process started, which led to my discharge some months later. My mother and I were all that each other had. There was no money, no estate, only bills that my only and older brother, Bill, paid. He is one of those quiet people who has sacrificed his entire life and is always ready to help someone else. It was many years later before I found out all that he did to clear up bills that were left behind. He did this for the sake of the Grenier name, and because he is a man of character. Once in White Plains, we found a little room to rent; the bathroom was down the hall, as I remember. There was a hot plate to cook on, one bed to share, a table, a chair ... that’s about it. I got a job at the Westchester County Airport in White Plains, NY, pumping gas with the hope of moving up into the world of Corporate Aviation. I had used my GI bill after my discharge from the Marine Corps to get my Commercial Aviation Certificate and my Multi-Engine Rating. Starting at the airport held all the promise of moving up the proverbial ladder.
Coming tomorrow, Chapter 2 Part 5
