January 26, 1945 was a cold winter day. So far, my twenty-two year old father had been deferred from service in World War 2 because he was a farmer, but today he had to report to the Draft Board. Milking the cows took longer than usual - perhaps because he had worked all night putting new springs on his car - and then he quickly changed from his barn clothes to street clothes, and drove in a bad snowstorm to the Armory Building in Downtown Syracuse. He arrived late, and the line of men waiting for their physicals stretched to the doorway. As the hours ticked by, he only inched forward. He started to panic. He still had to drive home, change, milk the cows, change into his suit, and then drive back to the city. He confessed to the guys in front of him, "I'm getting married tonight!" Word was passed up through the line of men and they all pushed him to the head of the line, whistling and jostling and clapping him forward. The doctor examined him and pronounced, "I'll be seeing you soon!" Dad dashed to his car and back to the farm. After milking the cows, he changed into his suit and headed back to the city. It was so cold the tires crunched on the snowy roads. Meanwhile, downtown at the Onondaga Hotel, my mother the bride, the minister, and all the family and friends waited. And waited. My mother later confessed that she thought he wasn't coming, but the Unity minister from Rochester chuckled and said, "Knowing Bill, he'll be late, but he WILL be here." Sure enough, Dad finally arrived and the ceremony proceeded. In his haste he had forgotten his wallet and had to borrow $10 from his brother-in-law to pay the minister. Later that night, for the second time in twenty-four hours, Dad was the subject of good-natured hooting and hollering while the neighhbors held a "Shivaree" outside the newlyweds' bedroom window. And all of this happened today on an ordinary cold winter day in January sixty-seven years ago. By the way, luckily for my father, the war ended before he was drafted. | 
