This is a true story that I wrote about my Dad, written from his own perspective. In 2011 the story became even more precious, because my Dad passed away earlier in that year...so I am reprinting this series again in honor and loving memory of my Dad, William F. "Billy" Mursch. The story is in three parts, so I will add the next chapter later, and so on until it is complete. I hope you will enjoy this little blast from Christmas Past... (there are links to the other chapters at the end of this post).
Original Post, December 2010:
I originally wrote this story for my father's Christmas card several years ago, which was sent to all of his family and friends for Christmas. I will add a little more each day until it is complete. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into the life of my Dad, "Billy Mursch", when he was about 10 years old. (written from his perspective)
|The Home of "Billy Mursch"|
Elmwood Street, Crafton, PA
(double click on pictures to enlarge view- then back arrow to return to blog)
|Billy Mursch, with partial |
views of his sister Marion (top right,
and his brother Paul (rt.)
As a young boy growing up in the 1920’s and 30’s in a small suburb of the big city of Pittsburgh, I would say that I was very typical for the time. Of course, the fact that I had a head full of bright auburn hair made my life a bit more interesting, and created opportunities for others to attach various knicknames to me like “Red-headed Billy Goat”, which resulted in great chases on the school yard. My friend “Brinkie” (Ralph Brinkman) and I could take care of the bullies all right.
|Elva and Bill Mursch|
|L to R: Paul, Billy, Ruth, Marion, and neighbor boy Bobby Scott.|
The other item that we could usually expect to receive for Christmas was a new pair of shoes. These shoes had to last all year, as they were the only pair we could hope to receive, so it was imperative that I learned how to take good care of them. The shoes I remember most were my leather high top boots that had a little pocket on the side for my Boy Scout pocketknife! No boy in that era would be caught dead without his trusty pocketknife always ready to whittle some stick or cut a trail through the woods or build a fort. The high tops looked really sharp with the knickers we still had to wear. The only thing better would have been to finally be able to wear long pants!
Sometimes before Christmas we would take a ride downtown on the streetcar to Pittsburgh and walk through the streets of the city and look in all the department store windows. Kaufmanns and The Joseph Horne Co. always had elaborate displays of toys and electric trains and all the newest and best things any little boy or girl could wish for. However, for many children, with the depression looming over our nation, that was pretty much all it was…a wish.