While still in the world of work, my wife Mary and I would close out our day by meeting at the local YMCA to go jogging.  Weather and light permitting, we would head for the nearby pair of cemeteries.  We liked jogging through them because the paths were paved, the occupants didn’t seem to mind, traffic was nil, and the quiet was perfect.           

I think now that it was during this period of life that I began to develop an interest in cemeteries.  Now, this interest in burial grounds is not a morbid one.  I’m not a professional mourner.  I simply find a visit to one to be as interesting as visiting an historical spot where there is a sort of running commentary about people and life and what might have been.           

I like to stroll the paths, especially when the day is alive with distant noises.  I take on a peculiar calm then.  Distractions vanish.  I take time to notice cloud formations.  I pick up bird messages.  I watch flowers lean into the sun.  I notice the grass paying homage to the wind.  The sense of place seizes me.  Time and space and substance do not seem important.   I become a friendly overseer  taking on knowledge, even intimacy, of all I survey.             

As I wander the paths, I check the names of the permanent residents.  I smile knowingly at the longevity of some.  The brevity of others makes me wince.  At this point, I begin to fantasize.  I see these departed at another time, their own time, in another place.  I ask them silly questions.  I nod knowingly through my own replies.           

I don’t spend all my time creating images.  I take stock.  The well-tended grave, the tasteful monument, the still-fresh flowers – all indicate a loving concern for the dead.  I like that.  It’s important that those who gave us life and direction, who helped shape our civilization, be given the decency of neat surroundings and the visits of those who want to learn from history.           

Such importance grips the heart  and mind when one sees the photos of our fallen warriors’ graves in foreign soil.  There are 104,366 of our youngsters in cemeteries in France and Italy and England and Holland.  Mary and I visited the only one in Holland outside Margareten.  The geometric neatness on the bright green highlights the Crosses and Stars of David beckoning visitors to stroll and salute.  The majesty of the serenity is overwhelming.           

In moments of solitude, I think about a place.  I’d like to be high on a hill, looking down into the village with the church steeple in sight.  I want to hear the chimes at noon.  I’d like to be close to the road so that my offspring can wave or perhaps stop by for a chat on an off day – maybe MEMORIAL DAY.  Something like that would give me a great sense of place.  

On Honor 

As is reflected in this Bugle Call Rag issue, April 14, 2010 is truly a day to remember. On that date, Post 134 was well represented as participants in the Roswell Rotary Club Honor Air program. This program is dedicated to showing outward respect and admiration for those Veterans who served our country during World War II. Those members of “The Greatest Generation” were honored with this kind act of ceremonial observance. In case you were not aware, the WWII Veterans were afforded this once in a lifetime opportunity at no expense to them. 

Along with the Veterans was a group know as Guardians. These ladies and gentlemen exemplified another definition of Honor: a special prerogative or privilege. And a privilege it was; being with those Veterans on their first visit to their memorial. The day proved to be a “rollercoaster” of emotions; joy and laughter that rapidly transitioned to tears of unmentionable memories, melded with tears of pride. The “rollercoaster” was not limited to the Veterans; Guardians, other visitors (young and not so young), showed genuine emotion as they honored these World War II Vets.

May we continue to exercise the virtues of Honor, especially as it pertains to our beloved Veterans of that era. They represent an important segment of our “national treasures”. Meaningful lessons are provided to not only the current generation, but to those of the future as well. Case in point was made on the Washington trip, as the younger generation showed a “thirst” for knowledge on World War II. As it is not a part of their curriculum at their individual educational institutions, they clamored around the Veterans to ask questions on the War. Again, the Veterans were Honored, as well as those young folks who had the privilege of interaction to fill the void of information they so much desired.

The April 14 trip to Washington. D.C., arranged by the Roswell Rotary Club for eligible World War II veterans to see the World War II Memorial, was an exhilarating and emotional day.  Approximately 100 veterans from the area who applied and were approved were joined by more than 40 Rotarians and “guardians” to participate in the Honor Air Program.           

A special salute is due to the Roswell Rotarians, especially the Honor Air Committee, for their organizational skills, their careful planning, their attention to detail, and their gracious and generous hospitality. They may not claim it, but it seems that they even arranged for the beautiful weather for the day.           

While we are giving salutes, we must include our own Post Commander, Ramon Garcia, for working so diligently to include our Post members and for serving as a Guardian on the trip at his own expense.  It is important also that we list Junior Vice Commander Todd Copley in our praise.  He, too, at his own expense served as a Guardian.  Both he and Ramon kept close watch on Harry Mahoney, Jim Ivey, Norm Harbaugh, Larry Foster, Tom Meeks, and me.  They kept us from wandering, from stumbling, from getting on the wrong bus.           

We assembled at the Roswell Recreation Center in the wee hours of the morning, enjoyed coffee and Danish, and gawked at the gradually arriving groups of veterans.  Canes and walkers and wheel chairs dotted here and there.  Most of the arrivals were rather hearty and loud and obviously pleased to be up and about.  At roughly 6:00, we listened to brief instructions from Rotary and headed for the bus assigned to us.  Wearing our blue t-shirts, we  avoided mixing with other colors as Ramon and Todd watched anxiously.           

At a key intersection in Roswell, we were greeted by Roswell Firefighters.  They formed an archway with their high-rise ladder and blinded us with joyful focus of their many lighted vehicles.  It was at this point that a squad car and motorcycle police of Roswell began the escort of our busses all the way to Atlanta airport. This was but the beginning of salutes of these veterans that lasted throughout the day.           

Daylight was showing broadly as we reached the tarmac near U.S. Airways where banner- sporting office workers greeted us in welcome.  After easing through security, on our way to our plane, we passed through a line of Patriot Riders, properly garbed motorcyclists, who wished us Godspeed.  Among them was Kitten, a fiftyish mother who has two sons in Afghanistan. The emotion of our day was building.           

Our flight to Washington’s Reagan International was smooth and we breakfasted on a boxed muffin and banana and juice.  Lady Rotarians occasionally served as Flight Attendants.           

The reception at the airport in D.C. was overwhelming.  As we deplaned, a double line of active duty soldiers greeted us, shook our hands, and thanked us for our service.  As we flowed out into the gate area, a small live band greeted us and people cheered and clapped.  Some of us thought that a famous celebrity had arrived!  The tender touch, though, was the lined area to our busses.  A large group of elementary school children from Florida waved little flags and greeted us and thanked us.  A little one grabbed my hand and said, “Thank you.”  It was enough to bring one to tears.  I nearly lost it at the same airport gate when a teacher handed each of us a greeting card made by 2^nd graders at the Columbia Elementary School in Annandale, Va.  Mine was from Cindy.  I cherish mine.  (Obviously, teachers do teach.  I watched them all day leading kids to the various memorials. They were sharp with history.)           

Our busses were lined up for us.  Each one had a large banner below its windshield.  It read: “World War II Veterans on Board.”  All the way to the WWII Memorial, people on the streets, in cars, at apartment windows waved and cheered. It was difficult to keep the emotions under control.           

The first sight of the WW II Memorial was truly awesome.  Its expansiveness, its location, its openness–all challenged the eyes and mind.  An active duty Colonel, Ed Pernotto, a friend of Todd Copley, gave up some of his lunchtime to steer us around with some tidbits of information which are not found in the brochure.  I can’t hear well so I missed most of the insights.           

What I did not miss was the sight of so many tourists approaching the groups of veterans, shaking hands and saying their thanks.  That pleased me.  Two young girls, perhaps 13 or 14 years old, shyly approached me and one asked. “What was it like to be in a war?”   I was taken aback and looked around for Jim Ivey.  I needed help!  Anyhow, I told them about being on KP, about being young, and about being emotional today in my old age.  One of the youngsters, an Oriental wisdom in her face, said, “Everyone did their job.”           

As I wandered around, I thought of her words.  This memorial is a tribute to the Greatest Generation, its 11 million men and women who were in the military to work against the might of two of the most vicious and mightiest armies in the world.  These banded civilians formed a fighting force and beat the professionals.  More than 400,000 gave their lives in doing so. The memorial is a history book in marble and granite.           

The day ended with a visit to Arlington Cemetery and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  We watched the solemn ceremony of the Changing of the Guard.  On our way to the ceremony, we passed by a group of perhaps 200 tourists who clapped and cheered us.               

I was near tears, not of sadness but of pride in our people who were intent upon thanking these veterans.  I felt happy for these veterans because they were receiving such thanks.  I was a bit sad too.  For many of them this was The Last Hurrah – on a most unusual, most unusual day.       

We are asking for your ideas and suggestions on what you would like to see in your newsletter.  One suggestion was to print the BOOSTER CLUB listing only three or four times a year rather than every month.  This will work if you keep paying your annual booster club donations of $25.00.  Call or send your ideas to Charles Capps 770-638-8801 or . 

Just in case you haven’t heard, HAP CHANDLER would appreciate your attendance on May 22, 2010 at Chastain Horse Park (4371 powers Ferry Rd. N.W. Atlanta, Ga. To enjoy “Boots, Blue Jeans and Bomber Jacket Barbeque”.  This is a fund raising event for the 8^th AIR FORCE MUSEUM.  Contact Hap at 404-275-2454 or get your tickets direct by calling 912-748-8888, ext.107.  Reservations are limited. Don’t delay.   

The May meeting will be at the PETITE AUBERGE on the 13^th at noon.  Come early to greet, meet and eat.  We will hear stories from the seven Post members who made the Honor Air Flight to Washington D.C.  This promises to be a very enjoyable meeting.