Joseph John Parzek
b. 1909
Duryea, PA
d. 1982
Albany, NY

Grandfather, paternal side

Adapted from something I wrote when I was 16, and got the news (I was in Minnesota):

My Pop-Pop has died. A numb feeling of disbelief surrounds me, but I am happy for him. I feel thankful for the years I knew him, and can hardly recall those earlier years when he was only a signature on a birthday card or a dim face on a rare visit.

Born not long after the turn of the century in a small Pennsylvania coal mining town, to poor Polish immigrants, he was needed to leave school before 9th grade. Working in the mines during his teen years in order to help provide for their large family, he mourned the deaths of family members in mining accidents. When he was old enough, he began doing odd jobs... roofing, truck driving, and operating machinery, to name a few. After many years of bachelorhood, my grandfather met and married a young woman from New York, Irene Miller, fresh out of highschool. On New Years Eve, they were married, and settled in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, and in November, 1942, my father was born. I'm sure Pop-Pop was very happy then, in all the aging photos of those years, I've never seen a prouder man. Yet soon after, he was drafted to fight for his country and spent almost three years of his son's life overseas during World War II.

Four years after his return, tragedy struck. His young wife died, leaving him heart broken and with a seven year old child to raise. I don't know what happened then except my father was raised by his grandparents, only seeing his father occasionally. Stricken by grief, Pop was wracked with alcoholism for the next 27 years. Meanwhile, my dad grew up on the family farm in Nassau, and went to college for four years, then got married. During my childhood, and that of my brother and sister, Pop-pop seemed to be only a distant someone we rarely saw. He never forgot my birthdays, though - there was always a card, always the most beautiful card, simply signed "Pop Pop", in the mail. And he always had the most interesting presents to give us, when he came.

I guess more than anything I'm thankful that our Pop-Pop didn't die in some Massachusetts bar or street. Instead, a miracle occurred six years before his death, when my brother Rob was born. He stopped drinking, went to AA, and came to live in a little trailer on the back of our property where he blissfully gathered "useful" junk, tinkered around and made all sorts of gadgets. He was sort of like a Polish "Fred Sanford" back there with his junkyard. He came up with some of the most amazing projects, like deciding he had to have a basement under his trailer, and digging for years under there, fortifying it with cement and creating amazing pulley systems to take out rocks that were half his height. Its amazing how he left us with so many memories, ever present somewhere in the back woods.

Every time the song "Good Night Irene" came on, he would get really sad, and I remember diving for the radio dial a few times, when he was around and it came on an oldies channel. And every Fourth of July, I remember him shooting the biggest baddest fireworks into the woods, silently... sometimes telling us small bits about the war he was remembering. Most important was the bond that grew between him and my youngest brother. Everything there was to know, "Grandpoppy" taught him, spending hours together. Grandpop lived for that little boy, perhaps reliving those years when he was unable to be with his own son.

He died having fulfilled what he wanted to do, reuniting himself with his only son, and establishing himself firmly as a much loved member of our family. Even after accomplishing this, and realizing he was dying, he clung to life and refused medical help until he was sure it was the end. This was his philosophy, as long as it was possible he wanted to live his life out with his family, and not be a "guinea pig" in the Veterans hospital. So until the cancer, brought on by the coal mines, drinking, and a life of unfiltered smoking, caught up with him, thats exactly what he did.

I was not there when he died but I was told he was not in pain, his heart stopped peacefully while he was in the V.A. hospital on Christmas Eve. Perhaps it was a blessing, and in my heart I feel no greater deserved gift could have been bestowed on him than to join his wife for Christmas.

Joseph J. Parzek
Army Serial # 31349515
Date of Entry - August 11, 1943
Date of Separation - November 17, 1945

Title: Private - 3 months {Anti-aircraft Basic Training)
Corporal - 24 months

Was in action in France, Belgium and Germany

Military Occupation Speciality - Anti Aircraft Artillery Gun Crewman

Was gunner of mobile 90 mm guns with the 135th antiaircraft gun battalion. Made many hits on enemy aircraft, broke up enemy aircraft formations. Was responsible for the efficient operation of the gun. Field stripped it on many occasions while under fire.

Decorations & Citations:

- Victory Medal
- American Theater Campaign Ribbon
- Good Conduct Medal
- European African Middle Eastern Theater Campaign Ribbon

Discharged from Fort Devens, Massachusetts

[Source: copied from official United States Army Honorable Discharge Papers]