It should have been no surprise the number of books we
accounted for in our parents’ home after dad passed away in May 2009. While
searching for a box in a crawlspace with a flashlight, I stumbled upon a
collection of documents that were significant because they connected to my
father’s past occupation.
I dragged the flimsy, cardboard box from the eaves and into
my old bedroom. Dripping with sweat and covered in dust, I eyed the contents,
which at first glance seemed unimpressive. Many were reports, plain blue and gray
government documents. One title grabbed me. On the pale blue cover, in all
capital letters across the top, the title said, The United States Strategic Bomb Survey. Underneath, the subtitle read, The Effects of Atomic Bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The words Atomic Bombs were in a much
larger font size than the rest of the text.
Other booklets caught my attention, too. The End of the War in the Pacific, Surrender Documents in Facsimile, Germany Surrenders Unconditionally, International Military Trials, Nurnberg, and most
impressive, Charter of the United Nations, in five languages. There were
about two dozen of these government publications. Their numismatic value is uncertain,
their historic significance indisputable, but their worth as family heirlooms, enormous.
Details about how my father came to own this collection of
historic papers are sketchy. He worked for the US Navy in the Brooklyn Navy Yard for twenty years. Dad took the job of forklift driver in his late
twenties. He was ill for years after his discharge from the army in November
1944, battling pneumonia and various infections–all complications from his
wounds, and much more manageable with today’s medicines. There, he took
advantage of the many education opportunities offered both by the Navy and
through the GI Bill. He studied accounting, management, and mechanics. By the
end of his twenty-year tenure, he worked in an office as a labor liaison
between the unions and the government. The records of his employment gave few
clues how he would gain access to this trove of government journals. In another
box, I discovered a newspaper. The Navy published a weekly newspaper for its
employees. On the front page, in the lower, right-hand corner, I noticed a
picture of a group of men and women in business attire. Among the names
mentioned in the caption was my father’s He was in the back row, taller than
many of them, smiling, and according to the description, named to the NSA
Library Committee.
As a member of a library commission, he could easily acquire
the items I uncovered in his home. However, I have not confirmed if the NSA organization he worked for was indeed the National Security Agency, or a
defunct branch of the government. Perhaps I don’t want to unravel the mystery
surrounding my father’s trove of important booklets. The tiny enigma accompanying them adds an aura to the memory of my father as a man who had
influence above the ordinary capacity of a lower-middle-class family man. I
think my father kept these because of their historical importance. I’m certain he
knew I would find and value them as he did before he passed away. If only he
had told me about them earlier, I wouldn’t have had to go through the trouble
of getting them from the dusty eaves.
