Soldier Bruce

This is a picture of my Uncle Bruce, my Mother's Brother.  He was not a tall man and some thought he suffered from a short man's complex.  Anyway, he grew up without a man in his life, being raised by Nana, Aunt Maude and I'm sure his two sisters, Ola and Helen.  He seemed a rather trouble soul to me.  The whole time I knew him, I was myself a pretty troubled soul so we got along pretty well together.  I also think his time in the war did not help.  The story goes that he drove a tank somewhere on the African desert and encounted Rommel's legions where he actually was shot and the bullet went through his shirt collar.  I liked Bruce a lot.  Once when I had run away from home to be in San Francisco with what I thought was the love of my life I ended up in the East Bay someplace instead.  (I know where it was, but I can't seem to think of the name of the town right now.) I had gone home and taken a small trailer house that my Father was not using and used it for my living quarters.  I was living on nothing and pretty hungry.  One night Bruce came across the Bay Bridge and took me into San Francisco where he bought me a dinner at a Chinese Restaurant in China town.  First, China Town was all new to me and exciting, but then the dinner astounded me with new flavors I did not know existed.  It was the first time I had ever tasted curry and I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  I had a dish of curried shrimp and I will never forget that first taste.  I have loved it ever since.