2026: This is my tribute to Veterans, near and far, young and old. Thank you for your service, and for the many sacrifices you may have experienced. I hope you find some Peace in knowing that you are thought of.

I originally posted this (below) for Memorial Day a couple of times. However, my dad was not one of the Fallen from World War II. He survived. He returned home. For that reason, I feel this post belongs to this day, Veterans Day.

Posted to Facebook 5/25/2019 (slightly revised 5/1/2025 and again 11/11/2026)

Memorial Day is this coming Monday, the last Monday in the month of May. May is also Mental Health Awareness Month. This post is about both, Memorial Day & Mental Health.

Memorial Day is a day to remember those lost during an armed conflict. My father was in an armed conflict – WWII. He enlisted in the Army in 1941, and he spent just over 3-1/2 years in the Pacific where he came down with malaria. Part of his time in the Pacific was on Iwo Jima. He was honorably discharged near the end of 1945.

My dad didn’t die during an armed conflict, but I believe that he started to die a little bit during the war. My dad's slow death continued after the war and accelerated during the summer of 1956 when he had a nervous breakdown.

In June 1956, my father became ill and the doctor was called to our flat. I remember that day clearly. My dad then spent about one month in a mental hospital in Chicago. During that time he had electric shock therapy and who knows what else. Knowing what we know today, my father likely suffered from PTSD. Back then it was, I think, called shell shock but I’m not sure that was even on our radar in 1956.

My dad was a gentle soul, and no doubt war takes its toll on such a person. His “nervous breakdown” was the beginning of his end, and his slow death entered a new phase. He was no longer the man he was, and his mental illness continued throughout his life. Some days were better than others but the illness always hovered in the background.

With the exception of a Christmas job at the post office, I don’t think he was able to work again. His wife, my mom, left the family in 1957. That left me, my father, and my grandfather. Gramps supported our broken family to the best of his ability. My dad’s actions got the family evicted from two apartments. I was living with the family the first time it happened.

As a teen I was embarrassed by my dad’s appearance and his actions, but I have since realized he couldn’t help himself. I know that, in spite of his condition, he was a good soul. He was smart and well read. He was kind, and he loved animals.

Memorial Day is a day of remembrance. We remember the Fallen, those who died during their time in service to our country. My dad didn’t fall during the war. Instead, he “fell” between the cracks subsequent to the war. He tried to get help from the Veteran’s Administration in the 1960s but he was denied. He was in a different class of “the Fallen.” I don’t want to conflate the two but he had “fallen” nonetheless.

My heart breaks for all who passed while serving their country. My heart breaks for all that my father lost, and my heart breaks for the broken souls who die a little bit every day due to their mental illness as a result of an armed conflict.

Addendum (2026): My dad was lost to the family for about 20 years. During that time, I searched for him, and I finally found him. (This is a much longer story than I have room for here.) Sadly, he’d already passed. I learned where he was buried...in an unmarked grave. I traveled to Chicago, visited the cemetery, and I ordered a headstone and a military plaque. He finally has at least some of the recognition he so deserved. RIP Dad.

PS – As I searched for my father, I always had one thought in the back of my mind. I wanted to bring him home where he could be at peace. I found him…at the Homewood Cemetery and his unmarked grave is in the Peace section of the cemetery. Now, however, his grave is no longer unmarked.

 

 My Early Years...

 I have some very early memories of My Life.  Those memories don't go back to my time in the womb, and not even the time I was a babe in arms.  I think my earliest memories are from when I was about 2 or 3 years old.  I wasn't tall for my age...ever.  I wonder, how tall is a child standing in an old fashioned claw bathtub if the child's nose barely comes above the top edge of the tub?  Yeah, not too tall.  So...maybe only 2 years old? 

 I have a very distinct memory of being in an old claw bathtub with my father.  The 3rd floor flat we lived in was in a 3-family, 3-story apartment building from the early 1900s. The tub was old fashioned, and it went along with the small white hexagon (with a black center) floor tiles.

Something about that time in the bathtub has stuck with me over the decades. I seem to remember a lime Popsicle and something unappetizing....perhaps a poop in the water?  It's hard to know how to interpret a memory that occurred when I had a very limited vocabulary.  To this date, I don't like lime-flavored foods, but I love fresh limes. Did that memory, real or not, leave a bad taste in my mouth?  I can only guess.

 I often think of the many memories I have from my very early years.  How can I have such thoughts when I had very little vocabulary to describe events?  Did I have the visual memory early on and then embellish the memory as I gained knowledge and added to my vocabulary?  What about photos?  If we had photos from those early years, did those "photo glimpses" of my past help to reinforce any memories I carried with me through the years?  I wonder.

I'm including some early photos with this post, and there will be more in future posts.   Please bear in mind, although I started my blog years ago, I haven't spent enough time on it to learn the "ins and outs" of the program.  It will be a bumpy ride for a while....but isn't that reflective of Life?  Life is a roller coaster.  Ups and Downs!  If I started out with perfect posts, how would you know if or when I improve?  Nope.  Perfection is greatly over rated!

 

Me with my mother. I think this is the best photo I have ever seen of my mother.  Was it the glow of new motherhood?   Perhaps, but that must not have lasted long. 

 

                                                     

Me with my maternal grandmother (Emma Muntean), born in Romania

Me with my father and my paternal grandfather, aka Gramps.

 

 

                                                     

 Making up for Lost Time  

08 Feb 2026: I'm finding "notes" from past "false starts" in writing My Story.  I'll be adding old notes here from time to time. Why rewrite what I've already written?!?  I have plenty of "notes" on my laptops (old and new).  I'm putting it all here, for all to see, rather than have something happen to me or my laptops and have it all lost!  

         Below- from about 10 years ago and then from 2024.

My Life

 Introduction

 How does one start to write about 65 years of existence?  When I’m in bed or in the shower I can write prose worthy of publication.  However, when I sit down to enter my thoughts into my laptop, I seem to freeze up and can’t think of anything clever to say.  So with that in mind, I’m going to just put down whatever comes to mind – at least to start.  Perhaps the flow of words will get eaiser as I go.

 So, where do I start?  I guess the beginning is a good place.  What beginning though?  Life is full of beginnings & endings.  For my purpose, though, I’ll start as far back as I can remember and even back further.  What, may you ask, is before me?  I think some background into my parents would be in order.  Since I’m largely writing this for my daughter, the more I can say, the better.  I want her to know more about me and my family.  I’m including a lot (I hope) in my family tree but I’ll include some of it here too.  Let’s get started!

 My mother

My mother was born in 1926, the second of three children.  She had an older sister & a younger brother..  Her father came from Romania but her mother was born in Chicago to Romanian-born parents.  (More of this is in the family tree.)  I’ve been told my mother loved animals. 

My Father

My father was born in 1916, the youngest of three children. 

 2024 04 20

Now I’m at 75 years of Life.  Another 10 years gone by without writing much, if anything at all. 

 

 I shouldn't be afraid to tell My Story

I came across this on Facebook this morning.  It's what I needed to "hear."  

 My how time flies!!!  It's already February of 2026, and I haven't written in months. No, that's not entirely true.  I have written, but I have not posted my writings here...yet.  Well, that's why I'm here today.  (I really need to visit here more often!  I haven't been here enough to learn how to update the various elements of my blog.  Silly me.)  

I tend to send myself texts during the day, mostly mornings when I seem to do my best thinking. I sent a variety of texts this past week.  They are examples of the way my brain works.  Perhaps an example of why I don't write/post on a daily basis.  

I'm not here to entertain anyone.  I'm here to write My Life Story.  The Memoirs of an Amateur.  I need to do that more than I need to entertain, or please others.  As (if) you read my posts, you'll see why it's important to me to reveal My Story.   

Why "amateur"?   Why not?  After all, who am I? I'm not famous.  I haven't made a big impact on this planet.  However, does that in itself mean that I have nothing to write?  Nothing to contribute?  I have things to say...mostly to my daughter.  My only child.  (The only one I know of.)

 I'm about to copy and past my texts below.  Ill put them in chronological order (oldest at top, newest at bottom). 

My morning Musings from 2/5/26 (Thursday)

1) This morning's Brain Wax.

(Mornings...the time my brain does its best thinking,  aka brainstorming (though sometimes it's just a drizzle). I usually wax poetic or philosophical....thus Brain(storming) & Wax(ing) = BrainWax.

2) I'm not here to write for others as much as I need to write for myself.  And my daughter. I may not always be grammatically correct.  So what? The important thing, for me, is to get my unfiltered, unadulterated thoughts down on "paper" while I still can.

3) No, I'm not gonna write about politics or religion in great depth. However, I will mention either as it pertains to a time of My Life. A time of discovery and/or reflection. I don't expect feedback or arguments about what is past...over & done with.    Comment but I don't need your acceptance nor do I need, or want, your criticism.  I just need, and want, to write My Story. I want to know that I'm leaving a bit of myself for family and friends...should they choose to read it.

4) My Story. I suspect it's a story that's different from The Story others have told about me.

Aah, there's The Rub.  I suspect 'my story' as told by another is not gonna match up to My Story (as told by me).

That...that right there is why I NEED to write MY STORY.

5) So, from my humble, and often shaky, beginnings, here goes. This is My Story...as told to Me....by Myself. (Oh...how my mind works.) Please stick around and get to know the Real Me.  Hopefully my daughter will get to know the Real Me. Good or bad. As my story unfolds, you'll learn why this is necessary.

6) I sit down with pen in hand to type a letter.  Hmmm. Is it still called typing if we no longer use a typewriter?  Perhaps. We say "the sun rises, or sets, when in fact WE, on this planet, are the ones rolling toward the Sun as the Earth rotates on its axis.

So...this is how my mind works.  Here one minute...gone the next. I guess I'm a tangential thinker, not a linear thinker. Each thought can, and often does, lead me in a new direction.  Never a dull moment!

7) It's easy for me to write while in the comfort of my armchair. Armchair Comfort vs Computer Confessions.  Yep. Once I get on my computer and post my writing....it's there for all to see (if anyone sees it at all).  That's scary. Perhaps that's why I need to follow through.  This train is just getting warmed up. It will be leaving the station shortly. It's gonna be a long ride. 

8) Memoirs of an Amateur.

Not intended for the entire World to see, but if you're here, welcome. Stick around...or not. I'll be here whether you are or not.

On the one hand, I want to write without editing along the way. However, on the "other hand" (another part of me) wants to go back and "correct" what I've written. Hmmm. Is that then "putting lipstick" on the real me and painting a picture (my face) of a version that isn't totally me? Then again, isn't it ALL part of me?

Post Note: This sounds like an Introduction to me.   Later, as I figure out how to modify my blog, I’ll incorporate this into a “respectable” introduction.  For now, it is what it is.

Today’s BrainWax  (2/7/26)

My Life

Not just one story but rather a multifaceted journey with a multitude of stories to be told. In that regard, it's Kayo's Misc & Etc.  A broad "description" of a complex Life. Why do we pigeon hole ourselves into a single compartment, when Life is so diverse?

 

That's it for today.   I may revisit my blog later..maybe not.  Hopefully, I'll be able to start on the meat & bones of My story.  Enough of the Introduction!  Enough of the excuses as to why I don't or cannot write!  Later!