05/24/2025
For the past 5 years I’ve taken care of my grandparents. My grandfather, Joseph Marso, started showing signs of dementia in 2020, before things got bad I took the opportunity to record many of his stories.
He was born in 1936 in Sharon, PA. His mom and dad died young and he was adopted by a cool local family the Chauncey’s. They raised him well, it wasn’t an easy childhood and he had to work young. He only graduated 8th grade, in spite of this he was well read, eloquent and had a honed sense of justice.
He joined the army at 18, and graduated the 82nd airborne a few years later. While in the service he always fought for what is right. Stationed in the south most of his friends were the other black and brown soldiers, not something that was normal during segregation. He would take his friends into segregated restaurants and sit at the counter. They would subsequently be chased out by a cleaver wielding chef. They hop in the car and sp*ed away, chased by men with guns.
You’re the end of his time in the army he was pulled from the top bunk by another soldier. The soldier called him an N-word lover. My grandpa fell from the top bunk got up and beat the other soldier viciously because what kind of as***le pull someone out the bunk for something is stupid as who they like to hang out with. The other soldier was medically discharged. As the story goes, no one liked him anyway there were no repercussions.
After the military, he went on to become a barber. His shop was a place where anyone could hang out. He welcomed all races and sexual orientations in a time when it wasn’t cool to do that.
He met my grandma in 1965, they’d been together 60 years right before his death. He wasn’t a wealthy man, but he was rich beyond measure. He spent his later years working with a mentally handicapped, teaching them basic job skills and doing janitorial work and lawn care at his local church. He was loved by many and always fought for what was right.
