My mom sent this earlier this weekend, but I wasn't ready to share it yet. Now I offer it to all of you who wonder whether HOPE lives and breathes in this world.
Here it is D-day, and like most of us older people, we are remembering the excitement and joy of that historical day. Grandpa had worked all night at the newspaper and then that morning the paperboys raced all over town shouting "extra." The print on the paper was the largest ever used by the Fort Smith Times Record which meant that my grandpa had to adjust the type cutting machine to accommodate the larger type. People raced outside in excitement, many leaving homes with signs in their windows showing a family member serving overseas. We kids all raced outside singing and shouting without fully understanding what this represented. After so many years of bad news, pain, saving pennies for the war effort, doing without rubber and other critical products; our lives would now revolve around hope. Soldiers would return, including my uncle Wilbur and uncle Bill. Aunt Nan would not have to drive an ambulance for the Red Cross again. The future was not clear, but all we knew was that the young men who had fought for our American dream with the women at their side were coming home. This was the first tme I can remember the pride associated with being an American.