those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for our freedoms. (And please, this is not meant to be a political thread)
HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY! Thanks is not even close to enough to
- Thread starter iasooner1
- Start date
Soonersincefitty
Sooner starter
Hear hear!
I never go a day and take freedom for granted. It's like air to me. Got to have it.
(BTW, 24 vets a day do themselves in so, a little prayer for their peace of mind too)
I never go a day and take freedom for granted. It's like air to me. Got to have it.
(BTW, 24 vets a day do themselves in so, a little prayer for their peace of mind too)
I think everyone would appreciate this story about how the people of The Netherlands respect the Americans that died in WWII so much that they have had families adopt the graves of each American, with a waiting list of those who wish to have that honor.
http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/am...dutch-have-never-forgotten/ar-BBkct8c?ocid=sf
In 1978 when we lived in Schreisheim bei Heidelberg as I did my post-doctorate at the Max Planck Institute, my mother-in-law came for a two-week vacation. As a part of our tour of Great Britain, she wanted to stop at the American cemetery in Luxembourg on the way back. It is the same cemetery in which Patton is buried. Her brother, her favorite family member, had died in WWII, and she had never had the opportunity to say good-bye. It was rare for her to make a request to see anything in particular on our excursions through Europe, and she made three with us. We granted her this wish.
The cemetery is quite large, and there was no way that we were going to be able to find the grave of her brother among all of the thousands of little white crosses. But, at the office for the cemetery, there was someone that looked up his site and took us through the myriad of graves until we reached that of her brother, probably no more than fifty yards from that of Patton. We all went to the site, but my wife and I pulled away and went back to the car with our six-month old son, giving my mother-in-law a few minutes alone with her brother. She spent about fifteen minutes with her brother before returning to the car, still sobbing into a handkerchief, the only time that I ever saw her cry.
As she came back to the car, a guide came from the office with a memento for her, a little white cross, an exact miniature of all those little white crosses in the beautifully maintained cemetery. They had had time to paint his name on the little white cross, exactly as it appeared on the real cross at the site of burial. It was her most cherished possession until the time of her death a couple of months ago. They still appreciate the sacrifice of our young men.
http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/am...dutch-have-never-forgotten/ar-BBkct8c?ocid=sf
In 1978 when we lived in Schreisheim bei Heidelberg as I did my post-doctorate at the Max Planck Institute, my mother-in-law came for a two-week vacation. As a part of our tour of Great Britain, she wanted to stop at the American cemetery in Luxembourg on the way back. It is the same cemetery in which Patton is buried. Her brother, her favorite family member, had died in WWII, and she had never had the opportunity to say good-bye. It was rare for her to make a request to see anything in particular on our excursions through Europe, and she made three with us. We granted her this wish.
The cemetery is quite large, and there was no way that we were going to be able to find the grave of her brother among all of the thousands of little white crosses. But, at the office for the cemetery, there was someone that looked up his site and took us through the myriad of graves until we reached that of her brother, probably no more than fifty yards from that of Patton. We all went to the site, but my wife and I pulled away and went back to the car with our six-month old son, giving my mother-in-law a few minutes alone with her brother. She spent about fifteen minutes with her brother before returning to the car, still sobbing into a handkerchief, the only time that I ever saw her cry.
As she came back to the car, a guide came from the office with a memento for her, a little white cross, an exact miniature of all those little white crosses in the beautifully maintained cemetery. They had had time to paint his name on the little white cross, exactly as it appeared on the real cross at the site of burial. It was her most cherished possession until the time of her death a couple of months ago. They still appreciate the sacrifice of our young men.
sybarite...I've always enjoyed the stories you share about your life's experiences, and especially about your travels. You paint strong verbal pictures...This one is no exception, and is perfect for today. Thank You...
