Chapter 2 - My Father Never Talked About the Army
Arthur Bennett joined the Army at:
nineteen.
Not because of family tradition.
His father had worked at:
a tire plant.
His mother cleaned:
medical offices.
College money did not exist.
Dad wanted:
school,
steady pay,
somewhere larger than the Ohio town where he grew up.
He planned to serve:
four years.
He stayed:
thirty-five.
Infantry first.
Then logistics.
Officer Candidate School.
Promotions.
Commands.
Deployments.
By the time he retired at fifty-five, my father was:
Brigadier General Arthur Bennett.
One star.
I grew up calling him:
Dad.
Not:
General.
At home he was the man who:
burned pancakes,
forgot school picture day,
fell asleep during movies,
refused to throw away extension cords.
His retirement ceremony had been enormous.
Flags.
Speeches.
Officers.
Senior enlisted leaders.
People telling stories about:
Afghanistan,
Iraq,
training commands,
disaster-response operations.
I was twenty-three.
I remember being proud.
I also remember Dad looking:
deeply uncomfortable.
Afterward he told me:
“I’m glad that’s over.”
I laughed.
“You worked thirty-five years for that.”
“No.”
“I worked thirty-five years for the work.”
That was Arthur.
Once the uniform came off, he did not want to build retirement around:
rank.
He put his medals in:
a wooden cabinet.
Kept a few photographs.
Then moved home to Ohio.
Six months later, he started working part-time for:
the county parks department.
Not as:
director.
Not adviser.
Grounds maintenance.
Planting.
Trail repair.
Community gardens.
My mother had died from ovarian cancer shortly before his retirement.
Dad discovered he hated:
empty rooms.
He liked:
work.
Outside work especially.
He eventually moved into a role maintaining grounds for several community properties, including:
Ridgeway Hall.
He did not need the money.
He liked:
the job.
His pension was more than enough for his modest life.
He still drove:
an eleven-year-old Ford pickup.
He bought:
work boots
only when the soles separated.
Julian saw all of that.
And decided:
May you like
failure.
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