The blog's been down. GoDaddy did some updates and caused it to get knocked out. At least I'm back up, thanks to my webmaster Uncle Tim Quinn.
Youngest daughter Clarissa asked me to do a "Marine" story about my Dad, her Grandpa, for a project she's doing in American History. Below is my story. I was honored to do it and am honored to restart the blog with this remembrance.
My story about Clarissa and her sisters Miranda and Nataha’s grandpa:
My story about Clarissa’s grandpa
My Step Mother, Lenora, who was married to my Dad for 33 years before his death in 2003, always maintained that he was a strict old Marine. She’d say that Edward Leickly ran his four boys like a platoon. I never really quite saw it that way. Frankly, we weren’t overly rambunctious kids, but I thought that we pretty much did what we wanted. When we went too far, that’s when the strict Marine came out. An example was my solo 6-hour bike ride one evening throughout the near west side of Cleveland without any contact with home. Returning home after avoiding Dad’s search detail, I found that punishment was quick and severe. He’d explode, dish out some Marine justice, then it was back to the same old loving dear old Dad. After you paid your price by maybe taking a slap or two and getting yelled at (no one could yell as loud as that old first sergeant), then everything was back to normal as far as he was concerned. If we wanted to sulk for hours over our punishment, that was our prerogative, but he was back to normal immediately: giving out hugs, kisses, good natured teases and a corny, but lovable, sense of humor. We always knew we were loved. We always knew not only that we where in a family, but that he was thrilled we were part of his family. It was that way no matter how badly we ran our paper routes or how lazy we were with the chores or how disrespectful we were of the neighbors. Dad was semper fidelis: always faithful.
I was born 13 years after he and his Marine comrades won the battle of Okinawa, the last major campaign of World War II. His fighting days were long over, but not the toughness he had. I mentioned when I had the privilege of offering a eulogy at his funeral that my mother died when I was nine, my younger sister Nancy died when I was 16 and my Dad had lost his job for a period during my childhood. This was his wife, Lucille, dying in 1967 at the age of 46 to cancer. This was his little girl, Nancy, his only daughter, dying at the age of 14 to leukemia. This was his job, his mortgage, his bills, his family. Being a dad now, I’m not sure how I could react to all that. I do know that in spite of it all, I’ve never seen my childhood as anything but happy. That was God’s doing, but God did it by giving me a old loving Marine for my earthly father. Food was always on the table. We got to go to high school football and basketball games and then MacDonald’s or Arby’s or the Red Barn thereafter. There were always sports. He paved over practically the entire backyard in order to put in a basketball court for his four sons and the neighborhood kids – He cared more about raising boys than grass. Christmas always came and he was Santa without the red suit and beard. (I think there was something from his Marine background that would never allow him to abide facial hair.)
During the tragedies that struck him and our family, there was never a feeling of desperation or hopelessness or defeat. We felt loved and we were happy. He’d always joked that Marines never retreated, “they just advance to the rear.” He certainly never retreated on his family and whenever a Marine “advances to the rear” it is because he’s covering someone else’s back. Semper Fi.
I think he and a lot of what Tom Brokaw call “The Greatest Generation”, showed their love a lot more than they talked about it. Their love came from doing their duty – doing the things they’re supposed to do. He helped a lot of people that I know he didn’t particularly care for on a personal level. “Like him? What does that have to do with anything?” -- that was his attitude. Just like taking care of your brothers in arms during the heat of battle – protecting each other by doing their duty. Sometimes duty was ugly. He told me that while a main invading force of Marines slammed into Okinawa in a frontal assault. The Navy delivered a smaller force, including my Dad, where the island narrows behind the enemy lines in order to cut off the retreating Japanese. The desperate defenders found themselves between the classic Marine hammer and anvil and were desperate to plow through the Americans to avoid death or capture. Dad said the lines were confused and there was no opportunity to take prisoners. He took no joy in this, but he had to fight ruthlessly in order to protect himself and the men around him who counted on him. He was willing to battle and do whatever it takes to do his duty and to accomplish his mission. That is something that never changed for him long after he fought his last battle in the Pacific. The battles that the Marine Corps prepared him to fight after his return from the war were of no less significance than the battles of Tarawa and Okinawa.
Edward A. Leickly died April 5, 2003 at the age of 80. There was a Marine Corps honor guard at his funeral. The flag draping his coffin was folded and presented to his widow, Lenora Leickly, on behalf of Commander-in-Chief George W. Bush and on behalf of a grateful and free nation.
