Ben Reske Family, 1951
When the promised and much-touted GI Bill of Rights proved logistically inadequate to my college ambitions and my father was opposed and unhelpful to them; I turned in desperation for help from my then grown siblings. I’d done the math and sharpened my argument to the point where I could say: “If each of you pitched in, it would only amount to 12¢ a day.” – “12 cents a day.”
I approached each of them in chronological birth order, starting with the eldest. I figured if I could get at least one of them to tumble and agree to help get me through college I could go back and persuade the rest. Their response, of course, was unanimous yet unsurprising. They all responded in precisely the same manner and, astoundingly, using precisely the same words:
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
Precisely those words: “You?”; and “College?”; and precisely four “Ha”s.
It was the sort of thing that would ring in your ears for the rest of your life:
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
“You? College? Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”
We’ve now waxed very old. If ever they called upon me for help, in any form, today; even if I were so inclined, I could not come to their aid, I could not come to their rescue.
