revived

  This morning I have had my faith in humanity revived. Actually that happened yesterday afternoon when a "facebook" friend extended an act of kindness to me. I put facebook in those air quotes because I have never met this special lady in person, only on facebook. But, the thing is we are connected through the past. The lives of my parents and hers, and generations before them intertwined forming the fabric of history. We share common ancestors, common memories. Both of us were born and raised in the same neighborhood. I'm not certain how many years separate us, but it isn't many. In our youth, as with everyone else, a matter of a few years changes the circle of friends. Later the gap closes and after a while equal footing is achieved. Years turn to decades. Decades define the past. My faith in humanity was restored by this lady, by her act of kindness, selfless and without expectation of return. I have little but gratitude to offer in return. 

 I should explain this a bit, to give context. You see I left that hometown of mine back in 1975 never to return. I had joined the Navy. At that time I figured I would return. Every serviceman dreams of coming back home when their tour is over. It doesn't matter if they where drafted, signed on for two years or set out to start a career, in the end the goal is to return home. Then life gets in the way, things change. While I was away my parents moved away. That is to say, they left home. I also discovered the majority of my classmates, those that I had left behind, had also moved. After twenty years it became apparent, home wasn't where I left it. There was no going home, I was home already. Turns out I took home with me.

 Fifteen years later, in 1990, my dad passed away. It was his wish to be buried next to his parents. You see his mother had passed away when he was just a few days old. complications from childbirth being the cause. Then when he was 12 he lost his father as well. He was being raised by his grandmother, and hadn't really gotten to know his father that well. When he spoke to me of them, he spoke about them as strangers. And so in 1990 I traveled back to the place of my birth, home, and watched as his urn was placed in the ground directly in between his parents. His father on the left and mom on the right. A bronze plaque issued by the government for his service during WW2 marks the spot. It has his name, rank, branch of service and the war he participated in. It says U.S. Army but he flew bombing missions over Europe in B-24's. At that time it was the Army Air Force. A fact I'm afraid many younger people will not know. There wasn't a separate Air Force until 1947. 

 It has been thirty years since that plaque was placed there. I have only had the opportunity to visit it once. There being no family members living in the area, his grave has gone unvisited for many years now. Holidays have come and gone, birthdays and other occasions left unobserved. That is until this year. A dear friend and a lady with a generous and kind heart has laid  a wreath on his grave for me this year. Through the cold, snow, and sleet she took the time to locate that marker. She sent me several photographs of that, one sits beside my Christmas tree this year. Dad has come home for Christmas this year, if only in my dreams. I can't express my thanks and gratitude enough. Denise Morgan Scott you have my undying gratitude. May God Bless you always.