Sunday, May 29, 2011
Another tribute
This is my grandfather who served in WW2 in the Pacific. His name was Raymond Broas.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
A Memorial Day Tribute
It was 1974, and I was 10 years old. There were two elderly gentlemen in our church, Mr. Green and Mr. Green. They were both old. They were brothers. They were both blind. They were both scary. (to a 10 year old).
One day, one of the Mr. Greens died. I felt sorry for the other one, and overcame my fear and hugged Mr. Malcolm. He asked my name. He never forgot it. One Sunday, he asked my dad if he could take us for lunch. I remember it well, I had spaghetti. After dinner, when the waitress brought the check, I was fascinated. Mr. Green pulled EXACTLY the right amount out of his wallet. I asked him how he knew. He showed me the Braille tabs on the money.
(This story does have a point, bear with me)
Mr. Malcolm lived near me, so one day I got brave and went and visited him. He lived alone, in a very small house. He invited me in, and the first thing I noticed was the HUGE book on his table. I asked him what it was. It was the Book of Matthew. “YOU CAN READ THE BIBLE???” He took me by the hand and placed my hand on his Bible. It was all bumpy. Every bump is a letter, he told me. He showed me his shelf. He had the whole Bible, each book a HUGE book on his self.
Time passed, and I loved visiting Mr. Green. He would chop his own wood for his wood stove, which was his heat and cooktop. He showed me his garden. He showed me how he lived, and took care of himself though blind.
One day, I got really brave and asked him if he was always blind. He got really quiet, and took me outside to his shed. He pulled out an old, moth-eaten uniform. It was from World War 1 he told me. He served over there. He *and* his brother were blinded by mustard gas. He cut the buttons off his old uniform and handed them to me. Even as a young girl, I understood his sacrifice. I never forgot. I still have the buttons.
Not many people remember Mr. Green anymore, but I just had to do something to keep his memory alive. I can never forget.
Thank you, Mr. Green. God bless America.
One day, one of the Mr. Greens died. I felt sorry for the other one, and overcame my fear and hugged Mr. Malcolm. He asked my name. He never forgot it. One Sunday, he asked my dad if he could take us for lunch. I remember it well, I had spaghetti. After dinner, when the waitress brought the check, I was fascinated. Mr. Green pulled EXACTLY the right amount out of his wallet. I asked him how he knew. He showed me the Braille tabs on the money.
(This story does have a point, bear with me)
Mr. Malcolm lived near me, so one day I got brave and went and visited him. He lived alone, in a very small house. He invited me in, and the first thing I noticed was the HUGE book on his table. I asked him what it was. It was the Book of Matthew. “YOU CAN READ THE BIBLE???” He took me by the hand and placed my hand on his Bible. It was all bumpy. Every bump is a letter, he told me. He showed me his shelf. He had the whole Bible, each book a HUGE book on his self.
Time passed, and I loved visiting Mr. Green. He would chop his own wood for his wood stove, which was his heat and cooktop. He showed me his garden. He showed me how he lived, and took care of himself though blind.
One day, I got really brave and asked him if he was always blind. He got really quiet, and took me outside to his shed. He pulled out an old, moth-eaten uniform. It was from World War 1 he told me. He served over there. He *and* his brother were blinded by mustard gas. He cut the buttons off his old uniform and handed them to me. Even as a young girl, I understood his sacrifice. I never forgot. I still have the buttons.
Not many people remember Mr. Green anymore, but I just had to do something to keep his memory alive. I can never forget.
Thank you, Mr. Green. God bless America.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)