A SALUTE TO THE VETERANS OF ST. FRANCIS OF PAOLA CHURCH

As delivered to the St. Francis parishioners by Dorothy Slovensky, author

           Memories-misty, water colored memories, of the way we were-words of a popular song sung by Barbara Streisand in the 1970s.
           We of the Centennial Planning Committee would like to bring back a few memories back to you here today. You, as veterans of St. Francis de Paola Church, are a noble part of the collage of the ninety-five year history of our church. You were, perhaps, baptized here, received your first Holy Communion and Confirmation here, instructed by our faithful priests and raised by your parents to honor and love out Lord Jesus Christ in His three divine persons. Your friends and schoolmates were trained and educated in a similar way. We were “blue collar” kids-the children of PPG and Eljer employees, our grandparents and parents immigrating here from all over Europe. We knew religion and the church were important in their lives. We remember our grandparents and how church attendance on Sunday and holidays took precedence over all other activities. There were other services, many of which are gone now-Forty Hours of Devotion, Feast of Christ the King Devotions, and Holy Week when we all practically lived in church. We learned the meaning of duty, honor and country.
           We had fun too. Simple fun. Sled riding down “Nanny Goat Hill,” bringing home burlap sacks full of icicles to make homemade ice cream in a hand cranked ice cream maker. Spring and Summer meant swimming in the Allegheny River after diving from “Big Rock.” Picnics at Lenape Park. Fishing and scouting out to “Tub Mill Run” and Rosston. Fall and Winter returned again with football and basketball championships to be earned. Pep rallies at the old ballfield on 3rd Avenue and then meeting the “Gang” at Morda’s or the Sugar Bowl for an ice cream of lemon phosphate.
           Life was simple, but oh so sweet and good. Then a change-and we suddenly became adults. We became aware of a man named Adolph Hitler who invaded Poland in 1939. A year later, In September 1940, Congress passed the Burks-Wadsworth Act, instituting the first peacetime draft in our nation’s history, and we registered for the draft. And one day we left our lovely hills of western Pennsylvania for places we had never heard of before. We wrote home from places like Iwo Jima, Guadacanal, Anzio, Sicily and North Africa among them. Our friends and families sometimes didn’t hear from us for long periods of time, and telegrams that began “Regret to inform you sometimes ended the question of why no letters. Fifty-five men from Ford City and our immediate area were killed in action in World War Two. Fifty five million people died as a result of that war.
           We celebrated Christmas with C-rations and a twig tree. Receiving Holy Communion from the chaplain priest was the only gift we got that day. But memories of Christmases past sustained us, Wiglia supper, Sharing the Opatek, Kolendy sung at Midnight Mass at St. Francis, were clear and strong in our memories and got us through the day. We remembered the meaning of duty, honor and country.
           The letters from our families and friends told of news from the homefront. Ration books, war bonds, victory gardens, scrap piles on the lawn of the high school, Honor Rolls popping up un Ford City with listings of our proud servicemen and women. We were told of the ways all Americans were pitching in for the war effort. Our fathers tried to keep our spirits up by reporting on the rabbit and deer kills as hunting season was a big time in our past. “Lots of buck will be left for you son when you come home. I’m keeping the shotguns cleaned and oiled and we’ll go north for a week at buck season” Dad wrote. We were using M-1s now. They became appendixes to our bodies as they never left us t seems. We could take them apart and put them together blindfolded.
           Then, August 1945. It was over. We were going home. Hard to believe. Home at last. Western Pennsylvania-Ford City-the hills-the river-everything was backing place. Our Church, St. Francis of Paola exactly as we remembered it as we attended our first Mass after returning home.
           The song “The Way We Were” continues-“if we had the chance to do it all again, would we? Could we?”
           Yes, we did do it again. In Korea, Vietnam, Lebanon, Panama and the Persian Gulf. We remembered the meaning of duty, honor, country. Now we can add-we were committed to preserve freedom, human dignity and peace. God was with us.
           On behalf of all past and present parishioners of St. Francis of Paola Church, we thank you and we truly say we are proud of you.