Are you a fan of American Movie Classics? The Movie Channel? Golden oldies? When all the men were handsome and always wore suits? When women never let their waved hair down and slept in their makeup? When men wore pajamas and women wore peignoir sets? When the ladies smoked their cigarettes through long holders and the gentlemen lit them with silver lighters?
When couples stared at each other with endless love and unfulfilled longing? When even oceans couldn’t keep them apart? When a man could look at a woman and say, “You’re for me.” And she didn’t laugh in his face. The ’40s. Ah, those were the days. . . .
Frank never dated much in high school, and there wasn’t much chance for that kind of thing after he enlisted in the Army on Dec. 31, 1941.
After basic training, he was sent to Tucson, Ariz. Then he transferred to the Air Force and was sent to Spokane, Wash. He was in on the startup of the 351st Bomb Group, and he was shipped overseas in May 1943.
“I dated a few girls,” he says, “but nothing serious. I received one 48-hour pass a month, if I was lucky. I’d travel to London and other towns in England when I could. I never saw so many good-looking girls in my life.”
In November 1944, Frank took his pass and went to a town in Yorkshire called Doncaster. It was just another little town on a map. Little did he know that fate was waiting for him at Woolworth’s, where he went for lunch.
“A young lady came down from the second floor to get her boss some tea. I took one look at her and said, `You’re for me.’ She said, `I don’t think so.’ I told her I’d be outside at 5:30 when she got off work.”
And so he was: “There were 100 girls working at Woolworth’s. As they came out, they were all giggling and laughing. Mona Patricia came out with a couple of girlfriends and walked right past me.
“I said to her, `I think you forgot someone.’ She said, `I don’t think so.’ I said, `I think you forgot me.’ Within two blocks, I had her talked into seeing a movie with me.”
Every month Frank got one 48-hour pass, and every month he spent it with Mona Patricia. That went on from November 1944 to April 1945.
Frank was told he was about to fly home. He asked his first sergeant for permission to fly Mona Patricia back to the States with him.
“He said, `Forget it. You’re going home.’ But he gave me a pass to see her. I took a train 90 miles and bought a ring. Before I went to her house, I stopped at a pub for a drink. Over the radio came Winston Churchill saying the war was over, so we were engaged on V-E Day. I flew home July 9, 1945.”
It took Frank a couple of years, many trips to the U.S. Embassy and a letter from the ambassador to get Mona Patricia to the States.
“She arrived on March 10, 1948, and our 55th anniversary was on April 10. I found a million-dollar baby in 5 and 10 cent store!”
Happy anniversary, Frank and Mona Patricia. They don’t make love stories like they used to.
———-
Has the war in Iraq affected your relationship? Send your tale, along with your relationship questions, to Cheryl Lavin, Tales From the Front, Chicago Tribune, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, IL 60611 or e-mail cheryllavin@aol.com. All names are changed. Letters cannot be considered without name, address and day and evening phone numbers. Letters may be used in whole or in part for any purpose and become the property of the column. Read Tales From the Front every Monday, Wednesday and Friday in Tempo.
