Bayonne, New Jersey. A small house on the Boulevard. Grandma Helen Demby and Sgt.(Uncle) Ben Demby. c. 1945. Photo: Jean Litinger–my aunt.
By Paul Goldfinger, Editor @Blogfinger
The Demby family of Bayonne sent 4 sons off to Europe and the Pacific during World War II. My mother Myrna was one of nine children. When all 4 sons returned, it was a miracle that none were killed or injured. Ben received the Bronze star for valor at Leyte in the Pacific. Duke was in the subs, Al was a Seabee, and Marty–in the Coast Guard—was guarding the convoys in the North Atlantic to Russia and England. As a child, I was so impressed by all of them.
I think of them often, but the recent Pearl Harbor Day memorial on the OG pier brought it back to the surface.
Grandma Demby was a quiet woman married to a tailor with a small shop in Bayonne, a blue collar town near Jersey City. Somehow they all squeezed into a two bedroom house with one bathroom. But it was a raucous place with great food and lots of noise. Ben was very devoted to her, being the youngest child. I remember how concerned and solicitous he was for her and I learned something from that.
We all carry memories of family long after they are gone. But somehow so much gets transmitted from one generation to the next which influences us, either consciously or not. And we don’t need a holiday to remind us of what is already inside–always on call.
PETER, PAUL AND MARY. This song was written in 1962 by Bob Dylan.