In honor of Veteran's Day, I wanted to share this story from my father about my late grandfather, Sergeant Samuel Sandler, who served as a fighter pilot in WWII and heroically helped charge the beaches of Normandy. - Mitchell
World war II
"Sam lands at Normandy on D plus 5. Young guy and like many was at VPI in Va and left school en masse to join up and fight the Nazis. I can tell you he had no idea what he was doing, but there he was.
For whatever reason, this son of a fish peddler was crazy about how his shorts and pants and shirts fit. Forget the boots. It was shorts and pants, and a very vivid memory of him was that his uniform never fit. Never fit. They were always too big or too small or too tight. From t-shirt to underwear to pants and shirt and fatigues. Never fit. All he talked about was how the “god damn” clothes never fit and were always too hard and took too long to dry out after they got wet.
Now it is 1950 or 1951. After the war, Sam came back home and married his high school sweetheart and joined his father LM (Leo Max) in the fish business. He did not go back to college. He moved into an apartment complex near Wards Corner. Recently learned that Sam had planned to go to UPenn to study accounting. Sam wanted to be an accountant. Go figure. After he had been home for about six months, he came home one night after work, a Friday night and was drunk. Smashed. And told Reba that he didn’t want to be in the fish business and wanted to travel, took her outside and attached to his old station wagon was a silver Airstream trailer. He wanted to drive across the USA with Reba and me, a 3-year-old. She went batshit, cussed him out and sent him back to the trailer dealer to return the trailer.
Go figure. I can just see Sam doing this. He always had the wanderlust."