Time

Yesterday I had an interesting conversation with a friend of mine. We were discussing our common interests in studying WWII and the Civil War (or the War between the States). We talked about the Battle of Gettysburg, the Gettysburg Address, President Lincoln, Pickett’s charge... the whole works. I was expressing how much I have always wanted to go to Gettysburg. She told that it is not a haunted place, but a hallowed place. My friend, Liz, began to tell me a story about a Union family taking in a wounded confederate soldier, and how they befriended him, loved him, and he became a member in their church two days before his death. She said that Europeans don’t think America has history, but we do. We have stories of revolution, love, war, strength and defeat.
Liz and I started talking about WWII and she brought up an interesting point. She said that our children will never meet a WWII veteran. They will never understand the level of gratitude we owe to them. I added that they will also never meet a Holocaust survivor. It just made me realize how peculiar it is that the world keeps turning and generations keep reproducing. WWII was the last war in which America united as a country to participate in. Pacific theatre, Atlantic theatre, and the home front were all war-centered areas. In a few years, the greatest generation will have to be told to our children by secondary sources or they will have to read, but they won’t be able to fully understand.
In my junior year of high school I had to read “The Greatest Generation” by Tom Brokaw and complete a corresponding project. I had to interview a WWII veteran. My mom introduced me to a veteran in our church and the next week I drove to his house to interview him. He told me getting his draft letter when he was 18 years old and leaving the North Carolina farm he had grown up on so he could serve his country. he ended up going to flight school, but because his vision was poor at night, he remained in the states to train other pilots in instrument flying before they were sent over. He was a precious person and he gave me a copy of his book. He has written a book that is a compilation of poems and stories that he wrote. I went home after the interview and started reading his book. It was the most beautiful poetry to his wife before and after her death. A few months later Mr. Betts, the WWII vet, became very ill and passed away. I felt so privileged to have heard his story and to have been able to share it with others.
Just think, there will come a day when there are no longer any persons alive who were alive on September 11th, 2001. It seems so strange and impossible but the clock keeps ticking and time is flying by us faster than we ever expect.