I see the moon.
The moon sees me.
The moon sees the one
I want to see.
God bless the moon.
And God bless me.
God bless the one
I want to see.

Mother sang the lullaby as we drove along Highway 26, west through the mountains, beneath the Milky Way. On our way to the beach, we sang songs. Dinah blew her horn. Old MacDonald had a farm. Boats were rowed. And the moon had a vision of someone far away and at war—my father.

Over the mountains
Over the sea
Where my heart is longing to be
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I want to see[1]

It was only 18-months that dad was gone. But I was only two, then turning three. He was only a picture to me, a story, an absent hero, a missing giant. Lucky for my brother and me—mom was a giant, too.

Dad came home after the cease-fire, all right. Yet, four short decades later, he still died too young. At 71, two-months after mom’s passing, they both were gone. It was only the two wars that were ever able to keep them apart.

Dad's dear friend and fellow “Save the PT Boater,”[2] Capt. Harry Wiedmaier, wrote in a tribute to dad for the Sea Service Section News: "Some may equal, but none shall surpass!" Harry has long since joined dad aboard the "Underway to the celestial seas beyond.” Bravo Zulu, Captains! Well done. And to your wives, as well. They kept faith at home and hearth throughout two wars when you were at sea and under fire!

As for me, the last living soul of those shown in the photos, I puzzle constantly about the price of peace when weighed against the dear cost of war.

Photos: 1951 photo that Mom mailed to Dad when he was overseas during the Korean War. (I'm the little guy!) - And the folks in 1993 before the bad luck changed everything.

[1] Author and copyright: unknown – lyrics from memories of Mother
[2] http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=19941106&slug=1940150 and http://savetheptboatinc.com/history.htm