Top Comments appears nightly, as a round-up of the best comments on Daily Kos. Surely you come across comments daily that are perceptive, apropos and .. well, perhaps even humorous. But they are more meaningful if they're well-known ... which is where you come in (especially in diaries/stories receiving little attention).
Send your nominations to TopComments at gmail dot com by 9:30 PM Eastern Time nightly, and indicate (a) why you liked the comment, and (b) your Dkos user name (to properly credit you) as well as a link to the comment itself.
Today would have been my father's 92nd birthday, were he still alive. I lost him when I was 20 (and he aged 58) and my mother when I was approaching age 40 (and she was 66). Although I miss having them around, I don't pine for them: as they told us kids that life was like a wheel, not a road with a dead end. Indeed, the medical center where I am employed has care-giver classes for its employees - and one silver lining about losing them at younger ages is that we were spared any possibility of dealing with dementia (as some friends and colleagues are going through right now).
With my dad, my one regret is that - had he lived just eighteen months longer - he could have seen me (his oldest child, named Jr. after him) graduate from college. He had to leave Fordham University after only two years, as his own father had died and the family needed money in 1938, with the Depression still dragging on. Two years of college was a lot in those pre-GI Bill days, and so it never held him back career-wise. Still, I know it meant a lot for him to see all five of his children attend college - one of us (my oldest sister) was not college material, but my dad was the only person in the world who didn't understand that. What's more, my own graduation ceremony was held in New York's Metropolitan Opera House - square one for an opera buff such as himself.
And he was like many men of his generation: laconic, uneager to speak much about himself in answer to questions such as what he did in the war, what his upbringing was, etc. Indeed, it's only been in the past few years that many pieces of his puzzle have come together.
At a recent family reunion, we videotaped my father's four sisters (all of my aunts are in their 70's-80's) about their memories, for posterity. Since my grandmother lived until age 95, I have many recollections of her - but none of my grandfather, who died in 1936 (twenty years before my birth). Since my own father never said anything about his father when he was alive (and my four aunts were young when he died) William Tracey had always been a blank slate to me. But these four women were able to paint a portrait of him much better when all together (and thus able to rekindle thoughts, one reminding another of a small detail, another suddenly recalling something else, etc.) and the best story was that of how their parents met.
It turns out that both William Tracey and Catherine Healy both worked for Bell Telephone (circa 1915) and he asked her for a date. She said no, and thought no more of it. But the next day, when she arrived at work and opened the top drawer of her desk, she found a handwritten note that read, "To Know Me - Is To Love Me". After that, my Aunt Kaye said, "The rest is history" - yet if such a note were found in an employee's desk today, the outcome might be .... well, not so good.
My father was drafted into the Army in 1942, and served as an MP (with a rank of PFC) until his discharge in November, 1945. Just before he left, the boyfriend of his oldest sister asked him for his blessing to marry her. "Well, Tom: I can't think of anyone I'd rather have as a brother-in-law than you" was his reply. (Update - here is a picture of the three of them).
And according to my aunts, his return was something else, too: he arrived in New York City around midnight and telephoned his mother, suggesting that he could take the morning train out to their home in suburban Long Island. But she ordered him to catch the last (1:00 AM) train out, then taking a cab from the train station ... to see his mother and his other three sisters come out in their nightgowns. And reportedly (when he reached into his pocket to pay the fare) the cabdriver replied, "The ride is free ... as long as you let me watch".
And it was only a few years ago that we learned more about his days in the war. This came when we finally dug through some boxes that we took from my mother's attic when she died - and in it were some letters he and his family had received from people he had met during/after WW-II.
My father was the only enlisted man in his regiment with the ability to speak passable French (which he learned in school; not being of French-Canadian ancestry). But it was good enough to land some plum assignments, my aunts report: one was guarding a bordello that was commandeered for the top brass and other VIP's. And because the ladies of the house had a never-on-Sunday policy (before Melina Mercouri made that phrase noteworthy) they cooked dinner for him on Sundays. My dad, who sang in the church choir and never uttered a 4-letter word among us ... well, that was a revelation.
He made acquaintances amongst the people he met in Algeria (and later newly-liberated France) and received some letters. I have scanned some, just to get the flavor: besides the passage of sixty years, the quality of the paper in wartime (and even post-war) wasn't so good. But once we found these, I was determined to do as much of the translation myself as possible - by taking a night class in French to brush-up my own high school French) and then have others review my work. And I am grateful to Helene Miles, the daughter of Dartmouth College's legendary language professor John Rassias for graciously correcting my initial transcription (simply copying the original French onto clean paper) and the translations themselves (noting many idioms and colloquialisms I misread).
The first letter came from a woman in Mostàganem - on the Mediterranean coast of Algeria .. and was addressed to my grandmother in May, 1943:
In it, a Madame Jeannette Serrier told my grandmother (without using the word "malaria") that my Dad was nearly over the mild case he had contracted. My father become a choir singer at church, and Mme. Serrier told my grandmother that "he sang 'Avé Maria' for us". She finished with "Every night in my prayers, I ask God to protect him from all danger and return him to you very soon. I hope that this letter finds you and your dear little ones in good health. To you, my far-away friends, I send you my best wishes. P.S. - excuse the paper on which I am writing you - here, one can't find anything in the stores".
What a different time that was; it would be difficult to imagine these sorts of circumstances today.
The other three letters appear to come from a family in the towns of Blâmont as well as St. Nicolas de Port (in northeastern France) from 1947 through 1948, though it is difficult to connect the dots. Here, the writing is much less explanatory and more familiar, as they are addressed to him (and come from different people) and I've scanned the only legible page amongst seven. They do ask how my father is doing, was he married (which was not until 1955) and thanking him for his friendship and - once again - for singing "Avé Maria" to them.
But the central theme from a Madame Beckrich Guillaume and (a different family member?) named Odette - is about her son, Gilbert. He was a soldier (perhaps in the Free French army, if not the underground?) and suffered a cracked pelvis. They write about him convalescing at a hospital in Arcachon - which is clear across France, on the south-west coast. Sure enough, the Clinique Cuénot is said to be located along the Atlantic beach with "a mild climate said to be favorable for invalids". Mme Guillaume writes of the post-war hardships in France and asks if he can "for your little brother from France, find some way to send Gil some sweets, Nescafé and woolens?" - in time for Christmas.
And he apparently did - although in the final letter we have, Gilbert did correct my father's French grammar, pointing out the difference between colis (package) and emballage (the packing materials). In future correspondence, Gilbert reminded him, "I have a lot of time, and can correct your letters. I hope you don't mind". I think I can sense a smiley face, even though it didn't exist back then.
Wow ... these are things Dad would never have spoken about. Indeed, it's through the words of others (both oral and written) that I'm finding out more about him, some thirty-three years after his death.
Happy 92nd birthday, Dad.
Now, on to Top Comments (somewhat light this evening):
-------------------------------
From Yasuragi:
In the very popular diary by Deoliver47 - asking for 'Grace' in the Black Kos community diaries (which become quite heated due to a now-banned poster) - she went on to further explain her thinking in response to a comment (and the lengthy thread which followed).
From sardonyx:
G2geek tells us the dirty little secret in Mets102's diary It's Time For Bloomberg to Resign.
And from Ed Tracey, your faithful correspondent this evening .... ....
In today's Cheers & Jeers - to the suggestion that Christine O'Donnell does not (as of now) plan a return to her native New Jersey, JBL55 wondered, "Like New Jersey doesn't have enough problems?"
-----------------------------------------------------------
And the front-page story about Rep. Steve "Very Urban" King's plans for investigations
over the next two years led Saglaker to write, "Steve King is an embarrassment to a state that sent over 79,000 troops to the Union army in the Civil War and over 13,000 of them died in the cause. The Iowa Supreme Court ruled against segregation in the state in 1868! The schools in my town have been integrated ever since. There is such a progressive history in Iowa it is a shame to have a reactionary like King representing any portion of the state".
And lastly ... Top Mojo - (cskendrick/sardonyx-style) excluding search-identifiable tip jars, first diary comments, Cheers and Jeers and (alas) ... da pooties:
1) I think your quibble is pointless and semantic. by Timaeus — 97
2) Let me use an anology to utterly... by Ken in MN — 94
3) All Government is Bad by JekyllnHyde — 86
4) That's a standard definition. There are by Timaeus — 81
5) let me add in something else by teacherken — 75
6) I would offer that we need to honor our by daliscar — 74
7) Heh, Reminds Me of a Question a Friend by Aspe4 — 73
8) Thank you for posting... by princss6 — 71
9) Because..... by 57andFemale — 69
10) It is another modern day buffalo hunt by Ed in Montana — 66
11) Personally, I respect many... by Meteor Blades — 66
12) my god you're obtuse by m4gill4 — 66
13) I have no idea how you can fight something by MinistryOfLove — 62
14) And every year the bar gets raised... by Ken in MN — 62
15) Troll patrol by Mostel26 — 62
16) yes, towns in California have tried to pass by Patriot Daily News Clearinghouse — 61
17) This: by Aji — 59
18) Frank, you totally don't understand science by jeremybloom — 58
19) GEICO by dark daze — 56
20) No offense to all of you, but... ;) by Diogenes2008 — 55
21) Deficit is linked to war and empire spending by Magnifico — 54
22) to Mostel26 by Democrats Ramshield — 53
23) On the path? by Kristina40 — 53
24) Indians 101 by Ojibwa — 52
25) Agreed. by ArthurPoet — 52
26) beware of zombies by Debbie in ME — 52
27) a perfect example to illustrate difference by teacherken — 51
28) Rebuilding the middle class by Dallasdoc — 50
29) yup, government is so bad...unless by Patriot Daily News Clearinghouse — 50
30) How about a flat Social Security tax? by Dallasdoc — 50
31) Happy New Year to all the by blue jersey mom — 50
===============
Top Mojo with no exclusions, no nothing:
1) Tip Jar by teacherken — 393
2) Tip Jar by Patriot Daily News Clearinghouse — 266
3) Tip Jar ready to fight yet by LaFeminista — 224
4) Tip Jar by indiemcemopants — 209
5) Tip Jar by Steven D — 196
6) Tip Jar by MinistryOfLove — 191
7) Tip Jar by Democrats Ramshield — 167
8) Tip Jar by slinkerwink — 160
9) Tip Jar by greywolfe359 — 133
10) But, try to have a nice day anyway by Edger — 130
11) I struggled with this one... by rserven — 109
12) I think your quibble is pointless and semantic. by Timaeus — 97
13) I'm trying to go somewhere here by Eddie C — 95
14) Let me use an anology to utterly... by Ken in MN — 94
15) Tip Jar by Ojibwa — 92
16) Tip Jar by bobswern — 92
17) All Government is Bad by JekyllnHyde — 86
18) Tip Jar by Clarknt67 — 86
19) Scritchie Jar by triciawyse — 86
20) That's a standard definition. There are by Timaeus — 81
21) Tip Jar by Catte Nappe — 76
22) let me add in something else by teacherken — 75
23) I would offer that we need to honor our by daliscar — 74
24) Heh, Reminds Me of a Question a Friend by Aspe4 — 73
25) Thank you for posting... by princss6 — 71
26) Because..... by 57andFemale — 69
27) It is another modern day buffalo hunt by Ed in Montana — 66
28) Personally, I respect many... by Meteor Blades — 66
29) my god you're obtuse by m4gill4 — 66
30) My take on this issue is that it is a horror. by Granny Doc — 65
31) Tips for trying to get past this by Miep — 65