Saturday, April 16, 2016
Heroes wins out over cars.
I have a thousand things to write about, but I must decide on one. I am not writing about cars but on our walk yesterday, Parked at the Pre-school, there was a beautiful 1956 red and white Chevrolet. I don’t envy the lucky driver, I just want a 1955 tudor or hardtop to drive around (convertible would be good).
But it is not cars. Heroes are the subject.
I have many heroes. I admire folk that have pulled themselves up by their boot straps, as the saying goes. My dad and mom are heroes of mine. I think mama went to the 8th grade dad to the 3rd. They left school to work with their families. Mom in the country store and their farm.
Dad on the family farm. Both educated themselves and as a team worked a North Georgia farm. Then chased jobs in the depression with a family of 5 all the way south to Hollywood, FL. Dad worked with the WPA and they lived in a tent. They worked as a team in North Carolina in the cotton mills. Dad as a fixer mom as a weaver. Then Bible School and dad became a very successful pastor. I do not think any pastor could love his congregations more than my dad.
I decided there is nothing wrong with family heroes. My brothers were WWII heroes. Jr. saw action in the worst battles in WWII. Jr. knew he was going to the Pacific so he bought a map and put girls names the major Islands in the Pacific. In his letters he would say somethng like, “How is Aunt Betty?” He had no Aunt Betty, so mama would get out the map. During WWII no reporter nor soldier was allowed to say where they were. All reporters started their reports, “Somewhere in the South Pacific……..”
Sherry’s Brother Lefty, was wounded on Iwo Jima.
Nephews Rick and Ted, Cousin Fred, Jimmy, Harold, Uncles Hisure, Hershel, Roy and BIL Lefty are my heroes. Then there is Vernon, Sherry’s other brother. 3 tours in Nam as a Green Beret. We took him and his wife out to dinner last night. Vern is now about 83 and he is depressed. He ‘shows’ pretty good, but you can tell by his actions and eyes, he is depressed. His wife Janet is getting a little feeble herself.
It’s tough to see a hero depressed. My mind asks, “How can a man tough as nails, who used to run 25 miles and not be breathing hard, be that depressed?
I love the old boy, but I have no idea what would bring him out of depression.
PS: Depression can come across as dementia or Alzheimer’s, I would hate to be mis-diagnosed.
I you have one of these and want to give it to a good owner, e-mail me! (BIG SMILE)