The looks on their faces tell me so much. They are living the high life, higher than either could afford as my dad arranged all of this wanting Grandma Aggie to stay and dine in “officers country.” They are sipping champagne. They are in the “Starlight Room” of the now demolished Monticello Hotel in Norfolk, VA. It is December of 1943.

To me their eyes are afraid.

My book ROYAL ROOTS, about my dad’s mental illness from a major explosion in Norfolk at the Naval Station, is published. It is full of pictures.  This lost now found photo is not one of them.

My son, age 45, discovered the picture at the bottom of a box of papers and pictures my aunt sent to us some time ago.  I am grateful for the picture.

This shot is taken a couple months after the massive bomb explosion on base that affected my dad’s mental health for the rest of his life.   

It is shortly before he totally broke down, nabbed a motorcycle, took an AWOL joy ride culminating in kicking in a storefront window and engaging in a boxing match with a prize fighter, non sanctioned.

After that he was hospitalized for about 14 months under tight security that included a suicide watch.  Dad’s PTSD from seeing dead and mangled bodies in a stateside incident in 1943 plagued him, and subsequently his family, for the rest of his life. 

Dad had served in the war time navy successfully for seven years, until the explosion of 27 huge Torpex bombs, and being awakened by the horrible sounds,  (many assumed they were under attack) Dad went out of his barracks to help the dead and the dying.

In this photo, somehow their eyes tell me they know something wicked this way comes.

They later understand, it is nothing to toast champagne about.