11.4: Place -- World War II Museum

I was not especially excited to go into the World War II museum in New Orleans, but my friend really wanted to, and he had been great about doing the stupid stuff I wanted to do, so we went. I had two grandfathers who were in WWII, but they had both been dead since I was pretty young, and although I knew my brothers and dad (and most of the guys I've dated) were really interested in WWII, I was not.

Lowell knows how to get me to agree to things, though. He took me to get food and talk to an interesting old lady first. And he paid for my admission to the museum, which was really nice of him. Anyway, when we got there, we took a minute to look at how the museum was laid out. We watched a brief movie about the events which led up to World War II. Then we started to walk around.

I honestly didn't know a lot about the history behind World War II -- Russia was ON OUR SIDE; who knew?! -- but Lowell filled me in when I had questions. I became interested in the personal stories behind the war. I even called my dad so I could look up the places where my grandfathers had been.

There were times, towards the end of the museum, when I got tears in my eyes. There were graphic pictures of the young, young men who were fighting this war. There were scenes with body parts lying around. There were a few pictures of the Holocaust. At one point, I felt physically unable to keep walking -- that's how much it affected me.

At the end, Lowell helped me find pins of the ship that one of my grandfathers was on. I bought two -- one for my dad and one for one of my brothers. Although I had not planned on going to the museum, I learned a lot and got a deeper appreciation for the soldiers of WWII.

And for Russia. Whew. They kicked ass back before they become assholes.

This is the battle that my paternal grandfather dropped off soldiers to. He was in the Navy. 

My maternal grandfather left some Nazi memorabilia that he gathered after the war. 

This is the letter authorizing the bomb drop on Hiroshima. 

Sad -- a soldier wrote this on his tent before being moved to another location. 

NGS and I don't do many museums. But some.