Posted on 05/24/2005 8:59:00 AM PDT by redrock
When I was a child (growing up in Southern California)...there lived an old lady down the street...just like in every neighborhood in the country.
Just like in every neighborhood....her house was a little ratty looking. Overgrown with weeds...grass...bushes...and in need of a painting.
Just like in every neighborhood.....us kids were convinced that it was because she was a witch (or something like it)......none of us wise enough (or smart enough) to realize it was because she was a little old lady...and lived alone...that the house looked like that.
One day ,as kids (especially dumb ones) will do, we called her names as we passed by her house. The whole group of us. You could see the hurt (it was evident to even us) in her eyes.
Well....another neighbor called my dad about what had happened. When I got home....my dad was waiting. After having a rather frank discussion about what we kids did....he told me we were going on a visit.
A visit to the little old lady.
The closer we got to her house...the more afraid I got. After all....we were going into the house of a witch...or something like that. All the rumours of what happened to little children....all the things that could happen...especially by witches (or something like that) ran thru my head.
Well...we got there.....and (to my shock and amazement)...my dad and the little old lady KNEW each other...called each other by their first names...and...acted like they LIKED each other!!!!
Well....we had us a little 'get-together' around her kitchen table. She sounded nice....she sounded like she was 'normal'. We all agreed to get along....that I would help the other kids know that she was OK. She served lemonade and chocolate chip cookies...she said it would 'seal the deal'.
...and my dad offered my services to clean up her yard. I could look forward to days and days (turned out to be years and years) of pulling weeds...and mowing....and painting.
Well...the next weekend...I was there on Saturday morning (bright and early) weeding and mowing and cleaning up her yard. Around noon she came out with lemonade...and chocolate chip cookies (fresh baked).
...and the following Monday...on our way to school...there she was....as our little group of kids passed by her house...with a fresh plate of chocolate chip cookies. (naturally....all of us ate the cookies...it's what kids do)
*********************************************************
For the next 10 years.....every morning on our way to school.....all of us were treated to a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.
....and gradually....all of us worked on her house. Cleaning...mowing....weeding.
When I was 16....I had a paper to do about someone interesting in our neighborhood. Well...I could think of no one 'more interesting' than the little old lady. I had some questions to ask......
So....I went to her and told her of my paper ( I had asked my dad if he thought it would be a good idea. He just got this funny grin on his face...and nodded yes).
When I asked her if I could write about her...she just got this look on her face ( one that I would later call my 'old veteran stare)...and slowly said yes.
*********************************************************
She told me of her being born in the mid-west. In a place so flat....it seemed as if you could see the end of the world. As she grew up...of her wanting to visit those places she read about. Of her wanting to see the world.
After she graduated from Nursing School....she enlisted in the Military. After spending time in Hawaii (.."What a wonderful place...learned to like pineapple there")...she was sent to the Phillipines.
Just in time for World War II.
She told me of her time on Bataan....working on the wounded soldiers...and never (never) getting enough sleep. Of never having enough supplies.
Then most of the Medical people were transferred to Corregidor. Of more and more wounded...making the whole tunnel network into one giant (wandering) Hospital. Of how food became less and less available....but they still kept working. Never having enough medical supplies....or rest.
Then....the surrender. Of being taken to a prison camp (where the Japanese viewed prisoners as something dishonourable)...of basically being dumped in an enclosed area...and told to make do.
Of how she and the others survived...eating worms with their oatmeal (.."extra protien...you just closed your eyes when eating...")...and then "The Day" happened.
American soldiers at the gates....telling them that it would be ok...they were going home. Of how she was so hungry...(she said that she weighed only 84 pounds when she was rescued)...that she just kept asking every soldier she saw if they had any extra food.
...and about the 5th soldier she saw...said yes....and handed her a chocolate chip cookie. (he had just gotten a 'care-package' from home) She said it was stale....but that 4 inch cookie tasted like a little bit of heaven.
Well....she eventually got home. Tried to settle into a 'normal life'. (Tried to gain some weight). Met a returning G.I. after the war was over....got married....had a daughter. Eventually moved to Southern California. Ended up in my neighborhood...(or maybe it was the other way around)....and ended up a widow with a ratty looking house...and some idiot children calling her names...and thinking the worse of her.
******************************************************
As the interview ended...she got that '1,000 yard stare'..(the kind that old veterans get)...and said...."You know...the reason I always feed you kids chocolate chip cookies was because of that one I got from that soldier. It just felt right to pass it on."
So...if in your neighborhood...there is some little old lady living in some ratty looking house...(and the kids are all thinking bad things about her)....and as you walk by....she is offering you a fresh baked batch of chocolate chip cookies....take one.
For you just might be getting a chocolate chip cookie......from an American Hero......
redrock
redrock
redrock
redrock
redrock
BTTT
redrock
Thanks for a most wonderful ping! May I send it on to a PFC in Hawaii...just got back from Iraq! :)
redrock
redrock
Wonderful story, redrock. Thanks for posting.
God bless our precious troops, - past, present, and future.
Excellent read. Thanks for the ping redrock.
I have been visiting with a man from my old neighborhood lately. He's in his late 80s now. Mind sharp as a tack. I have been learning of his "drop", along with 30 others, into New Ginuea, way back when. He was there for a long time, sometimes going 13 days without seeing another human and when he did he hoped it was an American. Just last weekend he mentioned that he was here to tell about it and many weren't, and then the brief silence followed. The silent salute. These heros are Our National Treasures.
Now, I do. Everytime I have one, I will think of you both.
Thank you for this tearfully beautiful story. Extremely well done!
I have talked to people who served in WWII....Korea.....Vietnam....and everywhere else in between.
...and everyone that I talked to...does the same.
The 'silent salute'.....and the 'old veterans stare'.
I understand it...since I do the same...but it is amazing and wonderful to see it in every generation.
I think it comes with the uniform.
redrock
That is one heck of a book. I like his style...
redrock
I think I'll dig it up and read it again!
Thank You-----(old vets shouldn't cry, but I did)
Agreed. I am honored to have this brief opportunity to glimps through our hero's "windows" into Our National Treasure, our American History up close and personal.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.