Dwight Eisenhower's childhood was typical of the early twentieth- century Midwest. Or, at least, that is how he depicted it. Yet in one or two ways it was not. Although large families were common—Eisenhower was the third of six brothers—they were not typical, at least in one sense. The American archetype was, and still is, the lone individual, even in childhood. The typical American child, thanks to Benjamin Franklin, Mark Twain and many other writers, was the pathfinder, the free- thinking, occasionally rebellious, self- reliant, self- made young person. And although the young Eisenhower was all these things, he was almost never alone. He was surrounded by his family. He ate, slept and lived much of his childhood in the intimate company of others. He learned to heed them, to work with them, to feel part of them and to stand with, and for, them. As anyone with siblings knows, these relationships incur benefits and costs, and challenge us to assume responsibility in society, especially when growing up. At school, as a younger sibling, one's first identification is as the brother or sister of so- and- so; in town, in church, in the neighborhood, one is a daughter or a son or even a grandchild, before one is oneself.

Eisenhower's paternal family came from Pennsylvania, his mother's from Virginia. With them, as he stated in his well- known Guildhall address, he came “from the very heart of America.” His father, David, descended from a family of pious, thrifty stock, was “strict and domineering.” It may be true that “the source for Eisenhower of what proved to be an extremely successful approach to life” was his father, for he “controlled the household.” To Eisenhower, “Dad believed more […] in sheer training and discipline,” whereas his mother, Ida, “was the one who talked more of standards, aspirations and opportunities.” She was the real teacher and role model, the most likely source of his own special power of political control through the nurture of connections without overtly taking sides. Eisenhower remained devoted to her for the rest of her life. “Her household problems,” he later wrote, “were […] monumental”: