Well now! My memory was for the 1935 to 1941 timeframe in Washington D.C. We lived very well, the schools were fine, I could bike all over DC without fear of any kind, the war clouds were forming of course, and my father went on active duty in the Army Air Force. He introduced me to General Hap Arnold, and got me a ride in an NAA Waco-N airplane, and time in a Link Trainer. Then Dad took me to a Redskins game, and after it was over, introduced me to Sammy Baugh. For a 10 or 11 year old it was a period I look back on with joy.
During school days, we went to the White Tower for lunch. 25 cents bought you four of their hamburgers and a chocolate drink. I can remember their taste even now.
My friends and I had allowances of 25 cents every Saturday too, so we raced to the local Georgetown movie house in the afternoon, and for 15 cents we had two short-shorts and two full movies, usually westerns, and for 10 cents we had popcorn and a drink. We had a rowdy time cheering the heroes and booing the villains.
Yes, it was boyhood time, growing up time, and few serious responsibilities to capture your afternoons.
After visiting my relatives in Nashville, I was given a ticket to fly back to DC on American Airlines. It is unbelievable now, but I was invited up to the cockpit and sat in the copilot's seat. The Captain told me to grab the yoke and fly the DC-3 as we headed up the western side of the Blue Ridge Mountains. So I did, and did a few ups and downs and gentle turns. It was 1937 and I was seven.
On December 7th, 1941, a Sunday, the fun and the joy were suddenly over, not to return fully for four more years. Anti-aircraft gun emplacements and searchlights appeared all over DC, and we were being given air raid drills at school. We were at war.