My parents were married 70 years ago today on June 22, 1941. Pop was 27 and already an Army vet and Mom was 22. They had almost 6 months of joy before their world went nuts on December 7th.
Pop got shot to pieces in Italy after trekking through North Africa and Sicily with the U.S. 34th Infantry Division while my mother broke her ass working in a defense factory in lower Manhattan while minding her husband's incorrigible kid brother and hoping for better days. She miscarried my older brother after Pop went back into service.
These people did the Depression without much and then won a war. Both are dead but I remember and miss them very much. Neither had an entitlement coming for anything they ever did. They just hustled for honest work and spent a lot of time laughing together.
