Your article about being an Army brat could have been my biography, right down to the unair-conditioned Plymouth station wagon [“ Army Brat,” December 2005]! When we lived in Naples, Italy, my dad, who worked for base security, drove us in that Plymouth, which was probably the largest car in Europe in the early sixties. It got more looks than a Ferrari in Dallas. In Italy we saw an outdoor speech by President Kennedy in August of 1963. My dad was never more than ten feet from him the whole time. Somewhere in our attic is a picture showing President Kennedy giving Dad a tie clasp modeled after the PT 109.
Would I trade growing up the way I did with someone who lived in the same town all his life? Maybe. But if I did, I wouldn’t have the memories of walking out on the balcony of our third-floor sixth-grade class in Italy and looking down at the Bay of Naples, with Mount Vesuvius in the background.
Lost and Found
After reading Gary Cartwright’s article on “ The Lost City,” I was flooded with the same fond memories of growing up in Arlington [December 2005]. In the sixties, I remember riding my bike down numerous roads, before Interstate 20 was paved, to dirt trails that are now covered by DFW Airport. My best memories of riding my bike are when I would ride down to Grimes Grocery and buy a Pepsi and a candy bar for less than a quarter. On the way home, I would stop by a lady’s house next to Luck Field. She sold eggs from her front-porch refrigerator. I learned a lot from growing up in Arlington: how to play softball, at Woods Chapel Baptist