The American Flag does not fly because the wind moves it, but the American Flag flies from the last breath of each military member who has died protecting it. American soldiers don’t fight because of what is in front of them, they fight because they love what’s behind them. These words came off of Facebook July 4, and I thought they were worth repeating.
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We just returned from the clubhouse from a great lunch and patriotic program. One of our residents, Edith Kneupper, plays the accordion and her friend, Beverly, helps her produce great music. Edith’s daughter who, with her husband has just returned from his tour of duty in Japan, lead the group in patriotic songs. Our great manager, Ric Gallegos, also played a number on his trombone to add to the festivities of the afternoon. Several residents help prepare and serve the food. This is a great place to live with a bunch of old folks always ready to help with activities. We’re getting about too old to help but with my help, Kathy manages to prepare her famous cheese grits for the monthly pot luck which is coming up this weekend. We have lived here at The Wellington for 10 years. Only one couple has been here longer than we have.
We have been reminiscing this weekend looking through the many scrapbooks I’ve managed to make over the years. I brought four big scrapbooks here from Gallatin, full of letters, photos, cards and newspaper clippings. My mother was a scrapbook saver, and many of them are things she had saved from the time I was born. After I moved here I have put together 12 scrapbooks, two of my years in the service with many pictures I managed to save from WWII and the Korean conflict. One of my neighbors, John Nelson, brought me three wonderful big pictures of the Battleship Missouri and surrender ceremony, bigger and more distinct that the ones I have. Guess that was what started me reminiscing over my scrapbooks.
There is a full page picture of the Grace and Holy Trinity Boys Memorial Choir from The Kansas City Star taken when I was a member. I sang in that choir about six or eight years. I was picked when I was in grade school when they interviewed boys who had a nice voice. We got a dollar a Sunday and two or three when we sang a solo. This was something that changed my life, I think. I continued to sing in a church choir until we moved to San Marcos.
I have received many honors in my lifetime, almost too many for a poor boy who grew up during the depression without a college education. I figure my tour of duty on General MacArthur’s Press Staff during WWII gave me an education equal to a college degree.
There are pictures and letters from people all over the world and many from senators and representatives of the United States about items from our newspapers. I have clippings from when I was a newspaper carrier for the Kansas City Journal Post. I have Sunday school papers and a promotion certificate from when I attended Oakhurst Methodist in Kansas City. I found a copy of The Eastern Eagle, “The only country newspaper in the City,” dated April 26, 1940, my first newspaper which I printed in my garage. An ad in the paper had Ethtyl Gasoline 13 cents a gallon.
We also have many pictures of not only me when I was growing up, but all of my relatives from generations back which I really don’t want to keep but hate to throw them away for fear someone might want them. That doesn’t include all the photo albums Kathy has put together.
When you read this I will be celebrating my 93rd birthday with my Texas family and have a cake made by my granddaughter, Molly. Hope she doesn’t put 93 candles on it for me to blow out.