The Great War was over! The Pasadena Star-News reported on November 7, 1918 that the Armistice had been signed, and the city reacted to the grand occasion as it always did: with a big parade. Everyone poured into the streets, banging on pots and pans in jubilation. World War I veterans marched in rank and file with those from the Spanish-American War and even a fife and drum corps of grizzled Civil War vets.
Pasadena hadn’t seen a crowd in months. Spanish flu was
rampant, so the town had adopted prohibitions against gatherings indoors or
out, even in churches. The Star-News chirpily documented
everybody’s scofflaw behavior: “Influenza
regulations were forgotten and the ‘flu’ germs probably died in the noise and
sunshine”.
It was a glorious celebration.
Unfortunately, the Star-News had made
an error and the Armistice was actually signed on November 11. Unfazed,
Pasadena threw another parade and giant block party a few days later.
It was on one of
these occasions that Harry met Alma. Or rather, 15-year-old Alma Hansen spied the
head and shoulders of a tall, slim young man looming above his fellow soldiers.
She turned to a bevy of her girl friends and announced “I’m going to get that guy”, and then promptly walked
over and introduced herself.
Harry Frederick
Herman Heather was 28 years old and one of the most forlorn men on the planet.
Years before, everyone he cared about had been torn from him by death,
rejection, and disgrace. He must have been bewildered but touched that someone
wanted to meet him.
The girl smiling up
at him was anything but alienated and bereaved. The youngest child of
successful immigrants, she knew nothing but life swaddled in the protective cocoon
of a loving family circle.
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