Friday, September 25, 2009


Bernice, oh Bernice. Some people are born funny, and she's one. She told so many jokes and I was so busy laughing that by the time I stopped and looked over at her, I realized she was writing furiously and was halfway down her notebook page. Her notebook page is next to my laptop right now, I am feeling it now, and it is bumpy, bumpy enough that if it was on carbon paper the paper underneath would have a perfect imprint. I mean, she wrote hard, she thought hard. She dominated that page.

Bernice Moore 9/24/09
I am 76 years old. My story is in 1951. My husband was at Fort  Bennie, MA. He was there a year before he sent for me to come. At the time I had two children. We caught the train going to the army camp. My husband was there for three years. They had those Black and White signs (to keep out black people.) The people were not too friendly. I made friends at the store and food places. The bus fare was 11 cents and 20 cents from the camp to the town. The weather was hot. Once I got lost. I ended up where I found a place with grass and snakes and other animals. It was not fun. Some places you could go in and some you could not.

At one time in the war years I was 10. We kids picked up tin cans. We needed tin to make airplanes. We had to collect cigarette paper and soda bottles too.

We were in two wars. Japan and Germany. I am so glad my brother came home safe. A lot of men and women were killed.

War is a bad thing.