REMEMBER

dirt road Dirt roads. Not too many of them left in parts of this country. Communities deciding it was better to cover them with asphalt or concrete to “improve” things. Not too many of our WWII veterans left either. Old movies on the tube this weekend remind us of that time. For us Baby Boomers it was our parents or maybe aunts and uncles. The Child Bride’s dad and mine both served in that war and her dad brought home a young English girl to some of those dirt roads in upstate Pennsylvania. Dust on everything all summer and mud in the spring. And cinders to cover the ice in winter. Anyone remember cinders? Of course, the kids cursed them because they screwed up our downhill fun on sleds. Real sleds with steel runners and a wooden handle to steer not a little plastic boat with a string.

Those dads, uncles, and aunts are mostly all gone now or into their nineties. Young men and women, some who lived on dirt roads, carried off to far away places to accomplish impossible tasks. Our dads made it back home so we are here today but many did not. It is up to us not to forget them, to remember.

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