I planned to write an epic piece about my Dad who would have been 100 years old today. But my body has staged a mutiny, so I’ll be brief.
Dad must be smiling.
William Benfield Armstrong was the real life Quiet Man. I’m the oldest of three sons who realized that Dad meant what he said — just by the look on his face.
My Dad was a handsome guy. Tall, lean and with a smile that dazzled women and men. I always thought he could’ve been a movie star, rivaling Clark Gable and Gary Cooper.
Dad rarely showed emotions. He kept it all inside. The day I left for basic training in the Marines, I saw something rare. Dad was crying as he put me on the train.
My Father didn’t talk about his experiences as an Army Staff Sgt. in World War Two. We knew he saw action in Germany but he never offered any details, always giving us an annoyed look if we persisted with questions. I finally got some answers a short time before Dad passed away in 2002. He told me about seeing his best friend killed in a jeep explosion, just a few yards in front of him.
He said it was an image he carried for the rest of his life. Dad talked and I listened. It was the longest conversation we ever had. When he finished, he just looked at me with a sad smile and patted my shoulders.
After my Father died, my two brothers and I were going through his possessions. We found, buried under clothing, several medals he had been awarded in that war so many years ago. My Dad was a hero! We always knew that but never understood or appreciated him in that larger context.
So here’s to you, Dad. At 100, you’re still a ramrod, tall and proud.
Categories: Anecdote, Family, Garry Armstrong, In Memorium, Patriotism, Relationships
Thanks for sharing the stories and the photos, giving us a little peek inside. You’re right, he was movie-star handsome. So many of that generation did not want to talk about their experiences, or thought it was unseemly. “It is what everybody did.” Glad you got to learn more before he left.
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Garry’s dad had real charisma. And a west Indian accent to die for. Quite the gentleman and the only member of his immediate family who was ever nice to me, too.
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Thank you, Laura.
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Great stuff Garry… I appreciate you introducing me to a genuine American hero! Love that Greatest Generation!
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Thanks, Ray. My Dad was a big boxing fan. He did some amateur boxing during WW 2. I got an artist friend to do a rendering of one of my Dad’s boxing pics — with a photo of Marvelous Marvin Hagler. So it was Bill Armstrong versus Marvin Hagler. Marvin signed it for me. My Dad loved it!
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What great pictures and memories. Thank you for introducing him to us.
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My pleasure and thank you.
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My dad died back in ’04. I still miss his comforting presence. Your dad sounds like him in many ways from the taciturn war veteran standpoint. Truly, I wish he’d have shared a bit more…sometimes imagination is worse than reality. It’s only now I realize it was his prerogative to continue protecting me the best he knew how.
For my own peace, I wrote hosannas of him every year at the anniversary of his death. Oddly enough, I stopped a couple of years ago. At the time I thought it was because I’d moved forward… now I realize it was because I was going through a significantly tough period of life. Didn’t need to write to feel his presence…he was walking with me when the going got rough.
Still grateful for having a parent who loved me heart and soul. Not everyone gets that, ya know?
Thanks, MrA, for making me stop and remember some hella good memories and times.
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And, thanks, Queen for sharing with me. It helps. You touched on something that resonates with me. I feel closer to my Dad AND my Mom by writing about them. It helps because we were never a “touchy, feely”, share your feelings family. It’s carried over to my 2 brothers and me. We’re working on that. I also work on that with Marilyn because there’s a lot of my Dad in me.
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Lovely post.
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Thank you!! It’s good to share and have folks respond.
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A beautiful description of your dad…
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Thanks, Ben. He was quite a guy. Did you ever meet him? I forget who he met from the old days.
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In spite of us being around at the same time, we never hung out. Jeffrey was our connection, and we seemed to live in different sectors of his mind. Bottom line; I never met any of your family until the last 2 decades.., and that was Antoine. I used to tease Jeff by referring to you as “your other best friend” 🙂
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A wonderful tribute to your Dad, Garry.
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Thank you, Bette. Dad set a high bar for his 3 sons.
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Beautiful tribute to your father, Garry. You’re right: Your dad was a handsome man. But more than beauty this is happiness that oozes from the photos. The black and white is gorgeous. And you were a cute baby.
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Thank you, Evelyne, for the kind words. I often dream of Mom and Dad. Then I wake up and realize they are gone. I cherish the memories.
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I recognize that picture!
It can be difficult to talk about war experiences, Garry. (not that I was ever in a war). I think it must leave scars on your soul and it must be too painful to look back.
Leslie
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Leslie, the picture of me sitting on Dad’s lap is my favorite. It’s one of only two or three we have here. I’m hoping to obtain more from the collection of pictures back at the old family house on Long Island. My Dad’s painful war memories were part of a painful legacy for those veterans from “The Greatest Generation”.
I saw a little of that during the brief time I covered the Vietnam war up close and personal.
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Oh Garry, I’m so sorry you had to go through that too.
Leslie
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Wonderful commentary, Gary, I’m sure that your Dad is smiling. And I recognized little baby you at first glance; great photo!
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Thank you. My Dad had a smile that lit up rooms.
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What an amazing man. A great family photo Garry.
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Thanks, Raewyn. I feel blessed to have had my Mom and Dad even though I gave them plenty of lip across the years. They passed along all the right things about life to their 3 sons.
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Both photos are beautiful- a nice tribute to your father on his birthday-thank you for giving us a glimpse of him
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Thank you. I wish we had more photos here. There are lots more at the family home back on Long Island. Hope to get them copied for posterity.
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You have his eyes, I believe.
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Thanks, Sue. Believe I now have his face when I look in the mirror. Unsettling but okay. Wish I had his hair.
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I can see what you mean… and I see my mother and great grandmother… quite strange, especially as I have some way to go before I get to ninety 🙂
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Sue, for a long time I looked like my Mom during my “prime years”. Then, my Dad took over my face. I’m not sure what that’s all about. Maybe it’s just an equal time thing because I even have Dad’s scowl now.
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Oh I hope I don’t develop my mother’s!
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I love the black and white picture. Is that you on his lap?
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Yes, Lady Bug. That’s number one son, little Garry. Dad was just back from the war. Late ’45 or early ’46. My hair was soft and curly with streaks of red (The Irish strain?).
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A handsome man – Happy Birthday to your dad.
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Thank you! He was quite a guy!
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