Sonny, as he was called until age 14, and then Jack for the remainder of his life, was born at home in Hertford, NC, March 15, 1932.  Jack was the youngest of three children.  Both his parents were dead by the time Jack was eight years old, so family became even more important to him throughout his years.  Jack and his sisters Frances  Mickey and Katherine White grew up with grandparents, aunts and uncles in North Carolina.  After his parents’ early deaths he lived with his grandparents Clarence and Alethia White and aunts and uncles.  They had large family suppers most Sundays, and that was a tradition Jack carried on once he and his sisters moved to Tucson, Arizona.

Here is some information copied and pasted from Jack's document about the family tree:

Despite the negative impact of the Great Depression, we had a happy family life and a strongly supportive extended family, including our White and Winslow grandparents, numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. The Sunday ritual was for both sides of our family to gather at our grandparents. In my memories our Winslow relatives usually gathered at our Winslow grandparents for dinner, the mid-day meal. (The evening meal was supper.) The house and yard would be full of uncles, aunts, and cousins. There was no shortage of children to play with no matter what your age. Katherine remembers mock funerals, playing in piles of leaves, and playing croquet, among other children’s games. I also remember picking and eating grapes, sitting on the freezer while our uncles cranked the freezer to make homemade ice cream, and having lots of different kinds of treats, including pop corn, a large variety of cakes, pies, cookies, and candies. 

My memory is that on Sunday’s our family usually went to the Winslow gathering first. And later in the afternoon we visited our White grandparents. (Our father was known for his hearty appetite—my son Randy brings back memories of my father in this regard.) Serving big meals with lots of choices was a way of life, a way to show love, both by those who were preparing and those who were eating. (This is still true, i.e., that you show love by eating.) There were usually so many people to be fed that there were at least two tables and multiple sittings. 

Grub Street was in a nice neighborhood amidst friendly people and children of an age spectrum to which the three of us could relate. My closest neighborhood friend was Reggie Tucker. I also remember Reggie’s cousin, Paul Tucker. Paul’s family lived next door to Reggie’s family. He was older, in high school. He had the small kids like me do chin-ups. Our achievement reward was a stalk of celery given to us straight from his ”garden”. Paul was also my hero. I remember visiting him frequently when he was in bed recovering from a football injury, a broken leg as I recall. I vaguely recall that his brother, Bill I believe, was a pilot killed in World War II.

I remember sitting on the front porch with my mother and sisters in the late afternoon waiting for father to come home from work. At the first sight of our father’s car, our mother would rush into the kitchen to put the homemade rolls in the oven.

But this domestic bliss was not to last. Tragedy struck the family in 1938/1939. I don’t remember all the details, but our father began to have symptoms that led to his being hospitalized in Norfolk. At the time Hertford had three physicians. Medicine was not yet a science. We have no factual information about his case. Frances always thought that he had prostate cancer. But my own physicians say that it was highly unlikely that was what killed him, he was too young. They say someone his age dying of prostate cancer would have made it into the medical journals. My guess is that he either had colon or stomach cancer. He died on November 13, 1939. Katherine remembers that our mother stayed in Norfolk during the entire time our father was in the hospital there.

Our Mother was left with three children, no income, and no marketable skills in a small town during a severe economic depression. Shortly after our father’s death our entire family moved to live with our Grandfather Winslow—our Grandmother Winslow was no longer alive. He lived in Whiteston, Perquimans County, NC. Our Grandfather, a casualty of the Great Depression, still operated a country grocery store, which in its hay day was known as Little Baltimore. (He went to market in Baltimore MD.) We didn’t live there very long before we moved back to Hertford. We moved into an apartment in a private home just across from the elementary school on Academy Street. Our mother’s efforts to find employment were unsuccessful. She died an accidental death on September 3, 1940. Frances was 15, Katherine was 13, and I was 8. 

Our extended family took us in. Frances went to live with our Uncle Sidney and Aunt Elizabeth Winslow in Rural Hall, NC, where Uncle Sidney was the High School Principal. Katherine went to live with our Grandfather Winslow, Aunt Winnie and Uncle Tom Riddick in Whiteston, and I went to live with our Grandfather, Grandmother, Aunts Dora and Bert, and Uncle Travis on a farm just outside Hertford. (Our Aunt Winnie became a surrogate mother to all three of us, continuing in that role until her death in 2004. We loved her as we had our own mother.)

In 1947, Jack moved to Pennsylvania to live with his sister Frances and brother-in-law Delbert Mickey.  He graduated from Beaver High School, attended Penn State University on a NROTC scholarship, and joined Beta Theta Pi Fraternity.  Jack married his first wife his senior year at Penn State, Dr. Patricia (Pat) Ann Hathaway.  

Upon graduating from Penn State University where he was a member of Beta Theta Pi social fraternity, Jack became an officer and aviator in the US Navy.  He loved to fly and was known for his aircraft carrier landings.  He especially liked the Lockheed Shooting Star TV-2.  His sons were both born while Jack was in the Navy.  His first son, Randy, was born in Pensacola, FL.  David was born in Beeville, TX.