The Happiest Millionaire

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Happiness is one of the greatest bonuses in life. Part of being happy is being grateful. When we were tiny tykes, our dad told us all the time, “Grateful people are never bitter. You only become bitter when you stop being grateful.” I think about this a great deal, especially in a world where gratitude is largely forgotten. 

One of the most grateful people I have met is WWII Marine Air Corps veteran Lt. Col. Arthur Arceneaux. We met Mr. Arceneaux this last September at the WWII Museum in New Orleans. He talked with us for a quite a while, telling us amazing stories of flying Corsairs and Hellcats. But at the end of each story, he would finish by saying, “I’ve had the best life... Just the best life.” 

Born in 1923 to an immigrant family, Mr. Arceneaux grew up in a small town outside of New Orleans. During the great depression he said they didn’t have much money, and it was hard work to keep it all together, but he never knew they were poor because, with a tight-knit family and plenty of food, they never wanted anything. “My father was a saint." he said. “Every night he would kneel and pray.” He never heard his dad swear, and only once did he take a whipping from him. His mother was a strong, fiercely tenacious woman. Born on a ship from Sicily to Louisiana, she raised her children as very patriotic Americans. 

With no college or much education, he enlisted into the Marine Air Corps July 15, 1942, at the age of 18. It was a “gimmick” he told us. At that time in the Air Corps, they were accepting any applications, needing man power more than experience. The result: many men died for lack of training. But for him, flying was a passion. Ever since he was a kid, he had wanted to fly. When he was accepted into the Marine Air Corps, he was thrilled beyond imagination. His father wasn’t sure at first, wanting him to be a farmer, but ultimately became very proud of his son.

For the next couple of years, he was stationed in the Pacific, flying all over. At one point during the Battle of Okinawa, he was hot on the trail of a Japanese Zero. As he was nearing it, he began to close in on an American cruiser. The cruiser radioed to him to clear out and let them take the Zero down or else he too would be shot. Being a “hotheaded” fellow, he had to get that Zero. Just when he was about to reach his target, he came too close to the guns of the cruiser and was hit. Crashing his plane into ocean, he waited two hours before he was picked up by an American submarine, to his great relief. But after spending 4 days on the sub, he was ready to get off: Tight quarters, no fresh air, and no sleep whatever with music at random hours and megaphone announcements at 4 in the morning. 

Many times throughout the war his life was spared. Once during training on a practice emergency parachute jump, his foot tangled in the cords and he was nearly killed as he went tumbling by all his buddies. Last minute he was able to untangle and pull the cord for the parachute to open. . . just in time. After that he never wanted to jump again. Another time, he was so focused on taking down the enemy plane in front of him that he didn't see the Zero locked on his tail. He was shouting with excitement over his victory when his wingman and buddy Bill Campbell took out the Zero and saved his life. They had practically grown up together in the Marines and were the best of friends. But Bill was shot down the next week. Mr. Arceneaux said he sobbed like a baby at 10,000 feet over the loss. 

Mr. Arceneaux told us so many stories and each one needs a full article. After the war, he stayed in the Marine Air Corps until 1963, serving in both Korea and the beginning of Vietnam war. But his service in WWII is really what he is proud of, considering that time to be the defining time in his life. 

At the end of the day, Mr. Arceneaux is content and grateful and happy with his life: his time in the military, his wife, his children, his work, his friends. . . everything. “I wasn’t smart, but everything came to me,” he said. “I had a storybook life.” Even what could have been the most difficult time for him, he considers to be one of the greatest gifts he ever received: the opportunity to give back to the woman who had been shared his life for 68 years.  When his wife became very ill, she asked him not to put her in a home, and he promised her he would take care of her himself.  It was very hard. He concluded emphatically that nursing his wife “was the best time of my life.” 

We recently passed through Louisiana and had to make a stop to visit Mr. Arceneaux.

Mr. Arceneaux is a millionaire, not in the financial sense, but because he is rich in perspective, love, and gratitude. He has chosen to be grateful for everything that has happened to him. Hard times made him who he is and prepared him for the future. Physical pain doesn't discourage him, but reminds himself of all that he IS able to do. He has four wonderful children, four grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. Mr. Arceneaux is an example to everyone who meets him that gratitude will not only keep you young, but will give you the greatest joy and satisfaction in life. Mr. Arceneaux is the happiest millionaire. 

A "Yank" Says Sorry

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This is a charming article that was sent to us from one of the veterans we met in D.C. Mr. Stanley Zemont is a delightful man with a lively sense of humor.

58 Years on, Yank wants to say sorry to wenches

Bournemouth Echo, February 3, 2003

Jenna Weeke

WHEN an American soldier called for a winch to help him up a Bournemouth hill two local ladies thought he said wench - and now 58-years later he's saying sorry. Stanley Zemont was 19 years old when he was sent to the town during the Second World War. He recalls walking up a steep hill and saying to his friend: "I wish I had a winch to help me up," but two young ladies mistook winch for wench and took great offence.
He says he's felt bad about the misunderstanding for years because Bournemouth residents were so kind to him during his stay and now, having mastered the Internet, he's contacted the Echo in the hope the two women involved will accept his apology and get in touch. He even wants to invite them to visit him at his home in Bellingham, Washington, on the north west coast of America so he can return some of the hospitality he received here during the war.
He said: "I was just a young man, I didn't even realize what I'd said as I didn't know the difference between winch and wench. I think the young ladies were aged around 15. They had their backs to us walking up the hill and when they heard what I said they spun round and said: 'What did you say, Yank? I was flabbergasted, I didn't know I'd said something offensive - they were annoyed and my buddy started laughing. This has been playing on my mind for years and having learnt to use the internet I decided it was time to get in touch. It would be incredible if these young ladies are around and remember it. I'd love to see them - all these years I've thought about it and it still bothers me because the people of Bournemouth are so nice

Mr. Zemont far right, kneeling with German Luger. May, 1945, Waldeck, Germany.

Stanley, now 78, was an infantryman. He recalls training on Bournemouth beaches in preparation for combat in France. He said: "I remember they had barbed wire along them. I have nothing but admiration and respect for the people there. They gave up their homes for us. I would love to come back to England just to visit Bournemouth. If you were one of those two young ladies walking up a steep Bournemouth hill 58-years ago overhearing a 'Yank' say 'wench' please contact us on 01202 411299 and we'll put you in touch with Stanley.

We forgive you! GI finally absolved 58 years after misheard winch comment.

Bournemouth Echo, February 6 2003

Jenna Weeke

He's forgiven. A local woman has identified herself from an Echo article as the person who overheard an American soldiers request for wench during the war. 
Stanley Zemont contacted the Echo 58 years after his plea for a winch to get him up a Bournemouth Hill was misheard by two local women -they thought he said winch. He told us he’d felt bad about the misunderstanding ever since and wanted to say sorry. 
Violet Hayden, 73, of St. Winifred's Road, recognized herself as one of those women - she remembers being angry about his comment and now she's preparing to write to Stanley at his home in Bellingham Washington, to tell him he's all forgiven. 
She said, “I was walking up that hill with my sister, I was 15 and she was 17 and we were on our way back from Westover cinema where we work as usherettes. Two men were walking up behind us - we thought they were going to ask for directions but when they said they wanted a wench we were so upset because we thought they were after a prostitute. I remember my sister saying ‘if you want one of those go down to the square’. He was nicely dressed and shouldn't have had any trouble getting a woman. At the time I was very annoyed. But we forgive him - we’d just about forgotten it by the time we reached the top of the hill. It hasn't played on my mind since. But I wouldn't mind writing to him, I'd like to ask him about his memories of the war. Particularly the bombing in 1943 which I remember very clearly."

Mr. Zemont, far right standing. At the WWII Memorial for his Honor Flight

Stanley, now 78, was an infantryman during World War II. He recalls training on Bournemouth beaches in preparation for combat in France. Stanley even indicated that he plans to invite the two women over to see him at his home not far from the Canadian border. 

Faith singing "Chattanooga Choo Choo" to Mr. Stanley, (right)

Violet said, "I have been to America on holiday but what with war likely I wouldn't like to go at the moment.” She still visits the graves of the Canadians killed when Bournemouth was bombed in 1943 to show they are still thought of even though their families are so far away. Stanley was thrilled when he heard the woman had read the article and got in touch. He said, “What a wonderful surprise, what wonderful news to know you have found the girls. If Violet will write to me it will make my day. I'm relieved that she forgives me.” 

Veterans Day 2014

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There are many special holidays and memorials throughout the year, but some of my favorite include the days when we remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice for us. Veterans Day is unique because not only is it a day when the people of America stop and say "thank you" to our military, but it is a day when those who did come home stop and remember their friends and brothers they left behind. It is a day to pay respect to the dead who understood the cost of liberty and freedom and were willing to pay the ultimate price for it. 

Something that bothers me, though, is that no sooner are these holidays and memorials over, than we move on with our lives and forget our gratitude. It's easy to "thank a veteran" on the one day in a year set aside by our government to remember these men, but it's a little more difficult to put our smart phones down and pay attention to the world around us, including the old man in the grocery store wearing a cap that says to the world, "I may be old; I may be slow; I may be hard of hearing; but I was once one of the guys who stormed the beaches of Iwo Jima or Normandy or Sicily." 

So thoughts for Veterans Day (and I know we are a week late... but it is still important): don't have November 11 be the only day in the year that you think about these dear men who are such heroes. At least remember to stop and talk with them when you see them. A simple acknowledgement, handshake or hug, and comment of appreciation goes a lot further than you might think. 

"I died fighting to preserve their rights and freedoms"

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Veterans' Day was Tuesday. Though we should always be remembering and thanking our veterans, it is special to set aside one day in the year specifically for them. We had a wonderful and full day up in the Dallas area, with many stories and pictures we will be sharing very shortly. Until then, here is an article I read on the way up which was very moving and thought-provoking;  especially the excerpt of a letter written by a 19-year old U.S. Navy sailor to his wife and children. Take a minute and read it; it is well worth your time. 

WWII veteran’s sacrifice lives on in Rome woman

by Carolyn Grindrod

Sandra “Charlee” Charlene Lewellyn Jameson’s name pays homage to a U.S. Navy sailor she never met. Just four months before Jameson was born in September 1945, her 19-year-old father, Charles Wesley Lewellyn, was killed alongside his identical twin brother aboard the USS Bunker Hill during a World War II kamikaze plane strike off the coast of Japan.

“I never knew my father,” she said Sunday at her home in The Village at Maplewood. “Some days I wish he didn’t have to make that sacrifice, but I understand that someone had to do it. Still, it’s affected my whole life. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if hadn’t have happened.” 

In the run-up to Veterans Day, Jameson shared stories told to her of Lewellyn’s death and of the last letter he wrote to her mother, Wilda Jacqueline Moody, during his final moments in the Battle of Okinawa. Veterans Day — the official U.S. holiday honoring men and women who have served in the armed forces — is Tuesday. Jameson said her father enlisted in U.S. Navy Reserves while he was a senior at Harrisville High School in West Virginia. He married her mother while in school and, shortly after he graduated in 1944, he and his brother, William Todd Lewellyn, joined the hundreds of American enlisted men fighting during the war.

“He worked in the bakery on the ship,” said Jameson. “I’ve been told the twins were inseparable. Wherever one went, the other one was right there. They requested to go on the same ship together ... and during the battles, they were assigned to a gun.”

Jameson said that while her father was in the service, her mother gave birth to her older brother, David Lewellyn. “He was only 18 months older than me,” she added. “And in 1997, just a year after my mother passed away, he committed suicide. I don’t think he ever got over what happened to our father.” As Jameson laid out the old photos of the twins and of her family sharing tales of her father’s high school football and boxing years, she pored through items she had collected. A West Virginia newspaper clipping she found, published in the Parkesburg Gazette, details the May 11, 1945, strike that killed her father and uncle.

“Seconds later a single engine Japanese dive bomber came in from the stern, despite hits from a five inch shell and many smaller projectiles from the carrier’s AA batteries,” the article states. “It dropped a 500 pound bomb which penetrated the after flight deck and exploded in the gallery deck just below. It was this bomb that killed the Lewellyn boys it is thought, instantly.”

 Jameson said her mother received a telegram announcing her father’s passing a week before her aunt got the message about her uncle. A few months after her father’s death, an airmail letter appeared in their mailbox. “It was the last letter my father had written my mother during the war,” said Jameson. “Someone had found it and mailed it to her after the attacks. I just can’t imagine how hard that would have been for her.” The letter was among a stack of her father’s letters given to her as a teen.

It reads:

“Dear Hon,  I am sitting here listening to the sounds of rapid gun fire and bombing. I feel this will be the last chance I get to tell you how much I love you and our children.  Please explain to them that I died fighting to preserve their rights and freedoms, just as our forefathers did in the wars before this. Explain to them how important it is for them to continue this fight to protect their rights and the freedoms we presently have in the United States.  If they don’t... we will have all died in vain.” 

Jameson said that through the course of her life, her mother — who remarried when Jameson was 5 — never let her forget what her father died fighting for. “We were born in a time that you feared communism, Nazism, and being ‘red’,” said Jameson. “My father was extremely worried about what would happen if it got to the United States, and he died protecting the freedom of rights we have here in America today. Not just constitutional freedoms, but the freedom to make a change if needed. I’ve lived my entire life knowing you have to fight for those freedoms.”

Jameson’s father and uncle, like many who died in the Pacific, were buried at sea. He is listed on the Tablet of Missing in Action or Buried at Sea at the Honolulu Memorial in Hawaii and was awarded the Purple Heart. And decades after his death, a grave marker bearing his name was placed next to the one for his brother in the national cemetery in his home state of West Virginia. Jameson said she went this summer to visit the West Virginia National Cemetery site. “It was this feeling of closure,” she said. “Although I never met him, I will never forget him.”

http://www.northwestgeorgianews.com/rome/news/local/wwii-veteran-s-sacrifice-lives-on-in-rome-woman/article_06ccf90a-689e-11e4-bd3c-73a0726d25d5.html