Today is the day after Memorial Day, and as I sit here looking out the window of my writing loft at the majestic Colorado Rockies, I think about how lucky (blessed) I am to be able to sit here and write what is on my mind. There's no way to thank all those in WWi and WWII who made this thing we call freedom possible. I just have to hope someway they hear the thoughts and prayers of all of us for the sacrifice they made as young men and women.
I was a teenager during WWII, and I'm not sure I completely grasped the severity of the threat the bad guys potentially were to our way of life. I did sense how the grownups, with whom I came in contact with, felt. Rationing of things like meat, sugar, auto tires, gasoline, etc. was a very real part of life. Sacrifices like this, even though pale in contrast to those of the armed forces, helped everyone at home feel they were helping the war effort.
In the sixth grade, I joined what they called the Junion Commandos to do my part. I was assigned a route of several blocks, and every Saturday I would collect grease and tin foil from the housewives on my route. Believe it or not, there was a lot of grease left over from everyday cooking in those days because cooking wasn't done in as healthy a fashion as it is today. The grease was used in making ammunition. The foil was really tin foil and not aluminum foil and was useful since the Japanese had taken over a lot of the countries which mined tin.
Our school also promoted they buying of "war stamps" or "savings stamps" for a dime a piece. When you purchased $18.75 in stamps you traded them in for a "war bond" which had a maturity value of $25.
We had "practice air raids" during which black curtains had to be place over all windows, doors, etc during the practice. My dad was an "Air Raid Warden" and during the practice he patrolled our neighborhood to make sure they were no lights visible from any of the houses on his route. This was pretty scary stuff to even teenagers, who, trust me, were a lot more naive and less worldly than those of today.
We had some neighbors about six houses away named the Crowders. Mr. Crowder worked with dad at the mill, and he was really proud of his son who was in the Army Air Force and was chosen for flight status. Unfortunately he was shot down and killed somewhere in Europe, and a pall came over our neighborhood with the death of one of our neighbors. It brought the war much closer to us. Any home with a son or daughter in the military service had a small flag with a blue star for each family member in service hanging in their front window. If the family member was killed in action, they changed the blue star to a gold star to reflect the extreme sacrifice the family had made. Every time we passed the Crowder's house, we quieted down in respect. The Crowders were never the same. Losing a child isn't supposed to happen, and it is very difficult to recover from. My wife and I lost our 8 year old son 8 years ago, and that is a story for another time, but I can relate to how the Crowders must have felt.
So another Memorial Day has come and gone, and I can only hope most people took a moment and said a prayer for those who made the supreme sacrifice, or any sacrifice for that matter. The day is more than just another Monday three day weekend. But I feel sure the ones who aren't with us any more would say they died so we could enjoy all our weekends, just so we don't forget we are drinking from freedom wells we didn't dig. Lest we forget, lest we forget.
Copyright Hugh M. Eaton, Jr 2006
I was a teenager during WWII, and I'm not sure I completely grasped the severity of the threat the bad guys potentially were to our way of life. I did sense how the grownups, with whom I came in contact with, felt. Rationing of things like meat, sugar, auto tires, gasoline, etc. was a very real part of life. Sacrifices like this, even though pale in contrast to those of the armed forces, helped everyone at home feel they were helping the war effort.
In the sixth grade, I joined what they called the Junion Commandos to do my part. I was assigned a route of several blocks, and every Saturday I would collect grease and tin foil from the housewives on my route. Believe it or not, there was a lot of grease left over from everyday cooking in those days because cooking wasn't done in as healthy a fashion as it is today. The grease was used in making ammunition. The foil was really tin foil and not aluminum foil and was useful since the Japanese had taken over a lot of the countries which mined tin.
Our school also promoted they buying of "war stamps" or "savings stamps" for a dime a piece. When you purchased $18.75 in stamps you traded them in for a "war bond" which had a maturity value of $25.
We had "practice air raids" during which black curtains had to be place over all windows, doors, etc during the practice. My dad was an "Air Raid Warden" and during the practice he patrolled our neighborhood to make sure they were no lights visible from any of the houses on his route. This was pretty scary stuff to even teenagers, who, trust me, were a lot more naive and less worldly than those of today.
We had some neighbors about six houses away named the Crowders. Mr. Crowder worked with dad at the mill, and he was really proud of his son who was in the Army Air Force and was chosen for flight status. Unfortunately he was shot down and killed somewhere in Europe, and a pall came over our neighborhood with the death of one of our neighbors. It brought the war much closer to us. Any home with a son or daughter in the military service had a small flag with a blue star for each family member in service hanging in their front window. If the family member was killed in action, they changed the blue star to a gold star to reflect the extreme sacrifice the family had made. Every time we passed the Crowder's house, we quieted down in respect. The Crowders were never the same. Losing a child isn't supposed to happen, and it is very difficult to recover from. My wife and I lost our 8 year old son 8 years ago, and that is a story for another time, but I can relate to how the Crowders must have felt.
So another Memorial Day has come and gone, and I can only hope most people took a moment and said a prayer for those who made the supreme sacrifice, or any sacrifice for that matter. The day is more than just another Monday three day weekend. But I feel sure the ones who aren't with us any more would say they died so we could enjoy all our weekends, just so we don't forget we are drinking from freedom wells we didn't dig. Lest we forget, lest we forget.
Copyright Hugh M. Eaton, Jr 2006
posted by easynan | 11:06 AM
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