Its around 2:30 in the afternoon on a rather hot day at the beach. I am winding down at the office, getting ready for a weekend Memorial Day trip to visit my daughters in the Philadelphia area. I decided to check my email and found several emails from friends I have made as a result of writing The Duquesne Hunky. This week has been so crazy for me, I’ve neglected to write a post since earlier this week. As a result, I am going to ask your indulgence and forgiveness for taking an easy way out.

I am posting photos that I took in 1963 during my brother Steve’s Holy Name Elementary School Graduation.  I remember taking these pictures. I was in 6th grade and I was super impressed with myself. After all, I got to “hang” with the big kids!  I thought you might enjoy this little respite and journey back to 1963. Hopefully, I haven’t posted these pictures before, but incase I did, chalk it up to old age!

Before you check out the photographs, I’d like you to read the story below. The signifigance is obvious since we are about to celebrate Memorial Day. However, to me there is even deeper meaning since it was sent to me to read by my 25 year old daughter, Abby. To know that my daughter is respectful and understanding of those who sacrificed so much for her freedom makes me a very proud Dad!

The author of the following story is unknown:

As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car with the door open.   The old man was looking at the engine. I put my groceries away in my car, and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away.  

I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him.   I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man. I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying:   ‘You shouldn’t even be allowed to drive a car at your age.’ And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.  

I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine.   He then went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would be okay. I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, ‘Looks like you’re having a  problem.’   He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head. I looked under the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me. Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and I told the old man that I would be right back.

I drove to the station and went I inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him.   The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife. When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help.

As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), I spoke with the old gentleman.   When I shook hands with  him earlier, he had noticed my Marine Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, ‘What outfit did you serve with?’   He said that he served with the first Marine Division at Guadal Canal Pelieliu, and Okinawa.   He had hit three of the worst ones, and retired from the Corps after the war was over.

As we talked we heard the engine start and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card.   He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed had his name and address on it, and I stuck it in my pocket. We all shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbyes to his wife.  

I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me.   One of them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card the old man had given tome. Both of the men told me then that they were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off.  

For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time.  The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: ‘Congressional Medal of Honor Society.’ I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence.  

Remember, as we approach another Memorial Day, OLD men like him gave you, and all of us, FREEDOM for America . Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who supported them, and who continue to support them.    Remember, Freedom isn’t Free. Thousands have paid the price, so that you can enjoy what you have today.

LET’S DO THIS: JUST 19 WORDS: GOD OUR FATHER, WALK THROUGH MY HOUSE AND TAKE AWAY ALL MY WORRIES; AND PLEASE WATCH OVER AND HEAL MY FAMILY; AND PLEASE PROTECT OUR FREEDOMS, AND WATCH OVER OUR TROOPS, WHO ARE DEFENDING THOSE FREEDOMS. AMEN  

HOLY NAME 8TH GRADE GRADUATION 1963