Review of Fannie Flagg's The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion

The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion by Fannie Flagg (November 2013, Random House)

Sookie Poole is exhausted. She's just finished putting on the third wedding of a child in a year, she is losing her battle to get the bluejays to leave some birdseed for the little birds, and then there's her mother, Lenore Krackenberry.

Lenore is 88––or is that the speed of all her plans and demands? She is a domineering mother; queen bee of all Point Clear, Alabama, social life; and pretty close to certifiably crazy. Sookie and her husband, Earle, have only just finished paying off the legal bills from the most recent time Lenore decided to let 'er rip in a letter to the editor about one of Point Clear's local luminaries. So the very last thing that Sookie needs right now is to receive a certified letter that will turn everything in her life upside down.

In alternating chapters, Fannie Flagg turns from Sookie's story in 2005 to that of Fritzi Jurdabralinski, of Pulaski, Wisconsin.  Fritzi is the oldest of four daughters and one son of Stan and Linka, a couple of hard-working Polish immigrants who epitomize the American dream. It was a proud day for Stan when he was able to buy a house for his family, and he was filled with joy each time one of his children was born.

In 1928, with so many Americans starting to own cars, the big oil companies offered training and support to anybody who wanted to open a garage. Always game for a challenge, Stan opened up a Phillips 66 station behind the house and slept there on a cot so that they could stay open 24 hours a day. Linka made Polish sausages and baked delicacies to sell in the service station. Even the kids worked there.

Fritzi is a firecracker who becomes a stunt flyer and wing walker in the 1930s. In World War II, she is one of the women who became WASPs (members of the Women Airforce Service Pilots program), ferrying planes around the country, training male pilots and hauling targets for antiaircraft practice. We follow Fritzi's story forward through the years until we learn the connection between her and Sookie.

WASPs Frances Green, Margaret Kirchner, Ann Waldner and Blanche Osborn

The World War II story of the WASPs was such a pleasure to read. The idea was that men who were trained to fly should be freed up for duty overseas. Women who had flying experience were invited to apply for the WASP program, and 1,074 were chosen from over 25,000 applicants for this tough duty. Most of the training took place in Texas, in grueling conditions. The women had to put in hundreds of hours of classroom study and flight training, and lived in rudimentary barracks.

25 former WASPs attended a "Fly Girls of WW2" event in 2008

WASPs were trained like male flyer cadets, but the similarities ended there. They were not in the military and received no military benefits or recognition whatsoever––not even any kind of death benefits for the 38 women who were killed during their service. When they ferried planes to their destination, they were usually on their own to find food, lodging and even a way back to base. They were under strict orders not to fraternize with any locals or servicemen. Those in charge of the WASPs seemed to want them to be like pants-wearing nuns, right down to the vows of poverty and chastity.

Of course, whatever the powers that be might have wanted, women who flew planes in the 1940s weren't very likely to act like they were in a convent. Fannie Flagg depicts the WASPs the way they really were. Fritzi might not even be the wildest girl in her squadron. This part of the book reminded me of the movie A League of Their Own (Tom Hanks, Geena Davis, Rosie O'Donnell), and I started daydreaming about a movie being made of this book. (Remember, Fannie Flagg's Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Café was made into a hit movie, so maybe my daydream will come true.)

As with all Fannie Flagg books, this story is all about women finding their own identities–––but in a way filled with humor and love. I could wish for more about Fritzi and the other WASPs in this story, but maybe Flagg will be inspired to do that in a future book.

As we honor our veterans today, let's include the WASPs in our thanks.

Note: I received a free review copy of The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion, published on November 5, by Random House. Versions of this review may appear on Amazon, Goodreads and other reviewing sites under my usernames there.

Book Review of Dr. Heidi Squier Kraft's Rule Number Two

Rule Number Two by Dr. Heidi Squier Kraft

Although I am a Baby Boomer, born after WWII was over, there have been several wars during my life. My military experience was a brief sojourn as an intern at the US Public Health Hospital in Baltimore, where physicians on the staff were honored with a Naval rank. So, for one very arduous year, I carried the rank of Lieutenant. At this time of year, as we approach Veterans Day, I am mindful of those soldiers and sailors who put their lives on the line for their country. This is the story of one such individual. She recounts her service experience in Rule Number Two.

After spending many years in the Navy, clinical psychologist Dr. Heidi Squier Kraft was a clinical psychologist at the Naval Hospital in Jacksonville, Florida, spending some time off with her parents and her 14-month-old twins when she received a pulse-jolting page. She, along with several other medical personnel, was being sent to Iraq. The team was to depart from Camp Pendleton, and she had 11 days before she was to report there.

This was in 2003, in the early days of Operation Iraqi Freedom, during which many such teams had already been deployed and some had returned to a different world. Kraft was from a military family; her father had served in the Navy during both the Korean and Vietnam conflicts, about which he never spoke. She had joined the Navy during her internship at Duke Medical Center. Her husband was a Marine, as well, so she knew she had the support of her family.

Her greatest initial challenge was preparing herself for her separation from her children. In just a few weeks, she found herself entrenched in a MASH unit, deep in the combat zone of Iraq, that was being bombarded daily and receiving mass casualties. "In a world where rockets exploded randomly nearby, I decided I could not be a combat psychologist and a mother at the same time. I had to be one or the other. I had no choice. I put their pictures away."

And so she and her team began their grueling ordeal of tending to the mental and emotional problems of wounded Marines, shocked survivors of terrible traumas as well as being on hand for the difficulties of the medical teams themselves, who were experiencing events that were new to them all. Along with these trauma problems, the soldiers and MASH personnel were being dermabraded by sandstorms, sautéed in the 132° F heat and frightened by the local fauna, such as the dreaded camel spider, sneaky poisonous scorpions and millions of biting fleas, flies and flits of all kinds that carried diseases.

If she thought she was safe at the base hospital, she learned "the illusion of safety was just that––an illusion, and nothing more."

As at all theaters of mass carnage, there is the necessity for triage, separating out those individuals who have the best chance of surviving if helped, with the most serious cases moved to the front of the line. It follows, then, that there are those with no hope, and these unfortunates are placed in an "expectant" room where they could be made most comfortable. It was in this room that Heidi came across one Marine who began to symbolize her entire stay in the war zone. This young man, Corporal Dunham, like many young soldiers, had sacrificed his life by jumping on a grenade to save his platoon.

When Kraft came upon him, she found, to her surprise, that he was responsive. He was evacuated to Baghdad and, in a few days, to a US hospital. There, he succumbed to his wounds, but at least he died with his parents by his side. Dunham’s mother later wrote to Heidi, because she was grateful that her wounded son had not been alone in his time of fear and pain. He later received the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Kraft's book is filled with these stories that make you reflect. Another of these was the details about the military specialists who were on mortuary duty. This was an unlikely group of soldiers who were qualified jet-engine mechanics, truck drivers, supply clerks and more. None of them had experience as a mortician, but they did what they had to do. They all had difficulties with frequent nightmares, the inability to speak about it to their close friends or family. "No one wants to hear what we do over here. Even people who love us. They think they do, but they don’t."

The mental health professionals themselves needed some therapy and they got it––mostly from each other. Once, Hawkeye Pierce of the TV show M*A*S*H, was counseled by his Colonel about the rules of war. Rule number one is that young men die. Rule number two is that doctors can't change rule number one.

As Dr. Kraft was nearing the end of her deployment, she thought it important to clarify her mind regarding her stay. She wrote a list enumerating the good things about Iraq and then the bad things. Good things included the sunrises and sunsets, learning to appreciate things taken for granted in the past––like fresh fruit––but the absolute best things were the US Marines, both the patients and the uninjured. They were awe-inspiring under the worst of circumstances. Bad things included the treacherous insects, the insurmountable heat, the sounds of artillery and the roar of helicopters, not knowing if what they brought was bad or good. This microcosm of the war can be summed up in one phrase: "We did the best we could."

Kraft's drive and purpose now is to educate and inform people about how many of the soldiers feel and behave when they finish their tours of duty and to help them get reinserted back into their lives. Her main message is that it is okay not to be okay.

From my local area, veterans of many wars continue to be honored for their sacrifices. Anticipating Veterans Day, 13 veterans were recently presented the French Legion of Honor Award at the French Embassy in Washington D.C. for their heroic service in the Army. Two sisters were among those who received the prestigious recognition; honored as Knights of the Legion of Honor. Dorothy and Ellan Levitsky, veteran nurses in WWII, left for the battlefields of France when they were young women. They felt they had to go and support the troops. They are now 88 and 90 years old and still visit France on a regular basis for D-Day services in many small towns across the country.

Note: Ten percent of the profits of Rule Number Two goes to the Injured Marine Semper Fi Fund, which provides financial assistance to Marines injured in combat and in training; to other service members injured while in direct support of Marine units; and their families.

At the Eleventh Hour

Flanders Field Cemetery 

In the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918, a temporary cessation of hostilities was declared between the Allied nations and Germany in the First World War. After years of war and the loss of an entire generation of young men in what was then known as "the Great War," armistice was declared. It was commemorated as Armistice Day beginning the following year, 1919.

It was two decades later that November 11th became a legal federal holiday in the United States in 1938. In a grassroots effort that began in Kansas, America’s heartland, during the years after WWII and the Korean War, a drive to expand the Armistice Day celebrations to include veterans of all wars was successful. Dwight D. Eisenhower signed a bill into law that transformed November 11 to “Veterans Day” in 1954. These days, only 21 percent of employers observe this federal holiday, but still it is a day on which most people think about the veterans of all wars and of those not-yet-veterans who are risking their lives in battle.

Flanders Field

In other countries, November 11 is known as Remembrance Day, Poppy Day, Armistice Day or Veterans Day. Countries that celebrate this day on November 11 or other days include Australia, Barbados, Bermuda, our northern neighbor Canada,  India, Mauritius, New Zealand, South Africa, The United Kingdom, France, Belgium, Germany, Hong Kong, Israel, Italy, The Netherlands, and Poland.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I happened upon this story and it seemed a perfect time to read it.

Miss Dimple Disappears by Mignon F. Ballard

This is a snapshot of an era and a place that evokes a feeling of déjà vu because it is so well done that, as you read, you feel like you were alive in 1942 and living in Elderberry, Georgia. At least that is how I felt and I wasn't born yet.

The story begins at this time of year, during the second week of November, when people's thoughts are turning toward Thanksgiving. It will be a different holiday from those of the past, for so many reasons it is hard to list them. This is the first major family holiday since America entered the war. Most of the young men, sons and husbands will be away from home. They are in training or even in peril and they are all missing home as much as their folks. The windows of many homes have a blue star flashing out the message that an inhabitant is off in the fray. Some homes have the golden star in their windows, memorializing those who have already lost their lives.

Because the nation is geared up for war efforts, there have been many changes on the home front. People are learning to do without sugar, butter, coffee, gasoline, nylon stockings and things made with rubber, such as the prosaic women's foundation garments and decent automobile tires. The citizenry have given up their metal hangers, draping items atop others on one hanger. They have been trying to ease their children into the idea that Santa won't be bringing bicycles this year, because of the lack of metal and rubber and trying to maintain an appearance of normalcy. Elderberrians do a good job of this, but having their family members in danger as well as lonely makes for a melancholy holiday time. This town reaches out to the servicemen who are in their town for leave or passing through.

In a pull-together effort, the people of the town try not to complain about the substitutions, like Postum for the coffee, honey or saccharine for sugar and an unappealing margarine with a blob of food coloring. The ladies wear rayons instead of nylons and such innocent items as balloons are a thing of the past. For Thanksgiving dinner, desserts may be sparse and hens are substituted for turkey. But it is the company that counts.

Miss Dimple Kilpatrick, a first-grade teacher, disappears one morning while on her usual walk and this mystery just simmers a bit because the mysterious death of the school custodian is also the talk of the town. In a community effort, different individuals try to find clues and even though Miss Dimple has left several, the people of Elderberry are so accustomed to safety that they are blind to the possibility of danger. This is the only part of the book that is a little hard to believe, but even as it is today the people are tired, discouraged and busied by their daily lives and have little ability to investigate mysteries.

Initially, it seems that there are too many characters to keep straight, but eventually the reader gets to know the personalities behind the names and begins to feel at home in Elderberry. I have known people like this. I only wonder if we have changed as a society to such an extent that we would not be willing to give up such personal items as hangers and our pots and pans. Are there enough of us who know how to cook using substitutions to make meals enjoyable or even palatable, since we have grown up with ready-made food?

This is a good read for the early days of November, and it made me grateful for what I take for granted. It also helps us all to remember that today we also have service personnel away for the Thanksgiving holiday who are not any different from the soldiers of 1942, and they are also homesick and experiencing a very different type of turkey dinner.

There is no mention of Veterans or Armistice Day in this novel, perhaps because when you are caught up in a war without an end in sight it may seem odd to celebrate the end of the war that was supposed to end all wars.

It is poignant to see pictures of a WWI vet attending the dedication day parade for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in 1982 and holding to his chest the flag he and his son both fought under. On November 11th we salute the living and the dead.

Sometimes it is the survivors who have difficult challenges, and the Veterans Administration helps in some ways, but sometimes the community steps in. An example of veterans helping veterans is a shelter called Home of the Brave which was founded by four Vietnam combat vets in Milford, Delaware. Its purpose is to house and feed homeless vets and help them get back on their feet in hard times.

Here's to you on the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the year 2011, 11/11/11.