Don’t Forget to Remember
The car’s air conditioning kept me cool, but Grandma insisted we step outside in the glaring sun and relentless heat. Not one to argue, at least not audibly, I slid out and joined her on the hot sidewalk. We stood without speaking, watching a solemn procession following a black hearse into the cemetery. We’d come to town for farm supplies and this was a detour I hadn’t expected. But once Grandma saw the procession, she and every other person in proximity stopped what they were doing to “pay their respects”. This was a first for me. Oh sure, I knew about the Vietnam war. Even at twelve I was aware that young men were traveling halfway across the world to fight communism. Although I had no clue what fighting communism meant. But what it meant today was evident. In the glare of the mid-afternoon sun, a family gathered around an open grave. We watched in silence as a group of men hoisted a flag-draped casket and slowly walked to the gravesite. I obse...