Monday, November 23, 2015

Daddy's Postcard

The postcard, dated September 20, 1944, was sent by my grandfather to his daughters while he was stationed at Camp Peary, near Williamsburg, Virginia.

Hello girls,
How are you. I'm still fine. Sure will be glad to see you. I'll be home in 7 more nights. Won't that be fine. Be good & help mama & I'll bring you a little present. I will be glad to see your new sailor dresses and new shoes. Lots of love. Daddy.

As you see in the photo, he indeed came home and got to see his daughter's in their new sailor dresses and new shoes...

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and Nobody

"This is a story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.

Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.

Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody's job.

Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it.

It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done."

Saturday, October 10, 2015

A Resting Place

Today, I visited Mill Springs National Cemetery at Nancy, Kentucky. My mother's uncle, who served with the U.S. Army during World War I, is buried there. There are over 4,000 graves at Mill Springs, including many of the Union soldiers killed in the battle that took place just across the way on January 19, 1862 during the American Civil War. It was a somber experience standing among all of those graves. It was a day full of proud emotion and respect for our soldiers. Red roses mark the grave of my loved one.

Jesus, Saviour of my soul
Let me to thy bosom fly
While the waves of trouble roll
While the tempest still is high

Hide me, O my Savior, hide
Till the storm of life is past
Safe into the haven guide
O receive my soul at last

(Charles Wesley, 1740 - from "Prayers Suitable For The Times In Which We Live," Charleston: Evans & Cogswell, No. 3 Broad Street, 1861)

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

A Moment to Remember

Life is not measured by the amount of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away (Micalea Smeltzer, Finding Olivia).

Such was the moment that day as I walked across the parking lot of the grocery store when - above the hustle and bustle of the busy street that lay behind me, above the noise of the shoppers walking to and fro from the store in front of me - suddenly, I heard the voice of a child calling out my name over and over again.

I looked toward the store in front of me and saw nothing. I looked toward the street behind me and saw nothing, I looked to my left and still nothing. I thought that perhaps the voice I had heard was only my imagination. That is until I looked to my right.

Across the street in the school yard there had to be at least a hundred kids enjoying recess and, right in the midst of all those children, I saw one solitary outstretched arm reaching up toward the sky and the hand that was attached to it was waving frantically at me! It was then that I realized the voice calling out my name belonged to my niece, Chrissy.

My first thought was, "My, what great eye sight you have!" My second thought was, "My, what a great set of lungs you have!" Better to love me with, I decided, as I held up both my arms and frantically waved back to her.

I smiled as I turned to walk toward the store, wiping away a couple of tears as I went inside.

Later, as I recalled that wonderful event, I remembered something I once read by the Italian poet, Cesare Pavese: "We do not remember days, we remember moments."

What happened that day with Chrissy was one of those moments. Unexpected, but pleasurable.