by James A. Reeves
1.
In 1941, my grandfather drove across the country from Detroit to California to deliver a car and see the World’s Fair in San Francisco. There were no highways, the car broke down constantly, he slept in fields, and he said it was the best trip of his life. He hitchhiked home with a bathing suit salesman. Three years later he landed in France in World War II and marched into Germany. “Patton was right,” my grandfather told me. “We should have gone after Stalin when we had the chance.” After the war, he got married in his uniform and took a job at Sears, where he would work for 38 years. When he retired in 1982, he moved into a house in Caseville, Michigan, where our family’s fishery once stood, and he served as township commissioner and knew everybody by name. …





