Judy Benowitz

https://www.amazon.com/Descendants-Judy.../dp/1943658943/

  Descendants is a series of essays chronicling Benowitz's life and family, but the book isn't just words. It embeds postcards, letters, autographs, images of women in uniform, and more in a delightfully whimsical blend that was both poignant and made me laugh out loud. Each essay focuses on a different aspect or time period, and though all the essays are written with the same insight and incisive wit, every section is like opening a birthday present -- you know there will be something marvelous inside, but you have no idea what. Some essays read like a thriller and sent shivers up my spine. Others made me want to throw my fist into the air in triumph with the narrator. Others left me laughing. One essay about the Vietnam draft and the concluding essay are achingly bittersweet. My favorite aspect of this book was the irreverent and honest voice. It brings key events to life, spanning from WWII to now. And it made me laugh -- a lot! So go read it already!

  https://georgiajourneys.kennesaw.edu/tours/show/38

    Georgia Journeys  and   Beyond Rosie  exhibits. Judy Benowitz Interview - soar.kennesaw.edu Born in Monroe, Georgia, in 1949, Judy Coker Benowitz was raised by two World War II veterans. Her mother, Ivah Ree Harris Coker, was a WAVE who served in the U.S. Navy in Washington, D.C. Her father, Daniel Coker, served in the U.S. Army, primarily in North Africa. A memoirist and actor, Benowitz discusses the ways in which she has used personal testimony and primary documents to piece ...

Plymouth, Savoy at Savoy Automobile Museum, Cartersville, Georgia Old Cars 1939-1968             Growing up, we had some really cool cars. Our 1939 rag-top Buick Roadmaster looked like a bootlegger’s car that Al Capone might have driven. We saw the road moving beneath us through the rusted-out floorboard. Wayne, Valerie, and I stuck our heads through the holes in the top as we stood on the back seat. Dad drove down the street with three little heads popping out.             Many years later, our 1956 green-and-white Ford Fairlane often broke down, stranding us on the highway.             “Oh me, I hate this old car,” Mother said.             At the REA company picnic, she complained, “We have the oldest car here.”             While driving home later that day, Dad thumped his cigarette out the window, but it flew back into the car. Overnight, it smoldered and burned out the entire back seat. Dad pulled out the cushions, and we rode back there on the metal frame with the pun