Don’t Forget to Remember
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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...