INTERLUDE:  MY PARENTS   Good Life And Hard Times Young Marrieds—World War Two Style.  My parents walk to work in Chicago during the war.  She worked in the Transportation Office and he was assigned to Gardner General Hospital.  They didn't know  they were within blocks of the secret location where the first atom bomb was being developed.  They won a world war and defeated an international depression.  For an encore they used their work ethic to rebuild a shattered world and raise a family. ABOVE: MY MATERNAL GRANDPARENTS ABOUT 1880 ABOVE RIGHT: MY PATERNAL GRANDPARENTS ABOUT WITH MY FATHER AND HIS SISTERS 1922 RIGHT:  MY PATERNAL GREAT-GREAT GRANDPARENTS ARE SEATED...BETWEEN THEM IS ANNA OLSON, MY GREAT GRANDMOTHER AT AGE 14 IN NORWAY MY MOTHER was born in Norwood Ohio, one of the ten children of German immigrants Fred and Agnes Woeste Stockman.  Fred was a decorative wrought iron artisan.  He arrived at the Port of Baltimore at the age of 16.  They both died before 1930, leaving Ruth (aged 12) and the others broken hearted, orphaned and on their own.  The four younger ones found themselves in Mt. St. Joseph Orphanage from time to time but mostly they were on their own to struggle against a growing economic depression.  You can imagine what it was like to be orphaned and thrown into a society in the throes of a depression.  Finishing high school came in a distant second to being sheltered, clothed and fed.  Ruth worked at a number of jobs in Ohio, Michigan, Florida and Illinois.  It was while working in Chicago that she met Roland.  They married in late 1941 and had their first child in 1943.  A second son (Me) entered this world in 1945.  Along the way, a daughter would be dead at birth.  My mother loved to cook.  To this day I remember  fudge cooking on a cold Winter night and I will sometimes make (a vegetarian) version of her Goetta.  It is my comfort food of choice.  She suffered from depression for most of her adult life.  Being orphaned so young was later complicated by an unsuccessful pregnancy, the accidental death of a priest who was her spiritual mentor and father figure...he'd call her "Ruthie" and she'd beam like a school girl...and finally, the death of my son, her grandson, Michael.  She just never recovered. LEFT:  My teenaged mother visiting her sister in Michigan. ABOVE: On her own...my teenaged mother and a friend in Chicago. RIGHT: Sexy lady.  My mother in Chicago at about age 25. ABOVE:  My mother and her nine siblings in 1955. Family reunions were rare and usually featured spirited drinking, Pincochle and angry political arguments...hey, they were German. RIGHT:  My mother's last photo. MY FATHER was born in Colfax, Wisconsin in 1914...the son of William and Elizabeth Stockland, the grandson of Ole and Anna Olson Anderson, Norwegian immigrants.  Ole was a successful stone cutter and community leader.  The early years were not easy for my father.  William and Elizabeth were hard drinkers...well, I guess you'd have to experience a long dark Wisconsin Winter in those days to better understand the impulse to drink heavily.  Anyway, both my father and his two sisters left home at an early age. Today the pop psychologists on the talk show circuit would speak of abusive homes.  My father was born too early to be an abused child.  It was the 1920's and you did what you had to do to survive.  In his case he went to live on an area farm as a kind of unofficial indentured servant.  He survived the hard work and a month long illness-induced coma.  Coming of age during an economic depression certainly limits one's options.  My father had a lifelong interest in railroads, cars, and reading.  He was a witty man whom I still quote from time to time.  He had an incredible work ethic.  Mostly self educated, he would amaze folks with the depth and breadth of his knowledge.  I would like to believe I gained from my father some of his humor, his gentleness, his love of the outdoors and his passion for learning and travel.  My fondest memories include going into his room on a winter morning and finding him sleeping under an open window...a little touch of Wisconsin enabling you to see your breath indoors!  I remember tossing the baseball and football.  I remember those long trips to Wisconsin in the 50's.  I remember taking him to his hometown for a final visit in 1991.  We drank the same brand of beer in the very bar where he drank as a young man. The day before he died I returned some of his humor to him.  He had a great sense of humor and always found ways to tell jokes and puns.   We watched a nature documentary about the Arctic Tern.  I said to him: "You know, it's extremely rare to see one of those birds alone."  He bit: "Why is that?"  He beamed when I answered: "Because one good turn deserves another."  The torch was passed.  When I made my call to check on him the next morning there was no answer.  It was April 6th, 1992 and the World was on its own. Family Picnic About 1930 Seated L to R My Grandfather William, Great Grandfather Ole and Great Grandmother Anna. Standing L to R Grandmother Elizabeth, My father and his sisters. My father and my older brother, 1944 My father at age 34. My father in colfax, Wisconsin, 1990. Last family portrait Last photo of Roland C. Stockland He died the next day, April 6, 1992.