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To: snippy_about_it
My other roommate and I have lost track of his wife Tonya. Last we heard, she lived in Seattle. She was a real sweetheart. Good singing voice, too.

We are attempting to locate her once again. I would like to go the memorial service if one is going to be held.

I'm not sure why I am crying so much over this...hell, it's been 35 years since I've seen him.

23 posted on 01/10/2004 12:29:19 PM PST by snopercod (You can't choose how or when you're going to die.. You can only decide how you're going to live.)
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To: snopercod
I'm not sure why I am crying so much over this...

I imagine bringing Robert home finally brings home the reality to you again, no matter how many years have past. I'm sorry for your loss. I hope you can go to the memorial and locate his wife.

28 posted on 01/10/2004 2:10:54 PM PST by snippy_about_it (Fall in --> The FReeper Foxhole. America's History. America's Soul.)
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To: snopercod
I offer my condolences...

take care my friend,

Jim

34 posted on 01/11/2004 1:53:27 PM PST by in the Arena (1st Lt. James W. Herrick, Jr., - MIA - Laos - 27 October 69 "Fire Fly 33")
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To: snopercod
I'm not sure why I am crying so much over this...hell, it's been 35 years since I've seen him.

BEcause he was your friend. HUGS.

46 posted on 01/10/2005 7:02:20 AM PST by StarCMC (It's God's job to forgive Bin Laden; it's our job to arrange the meeting.)
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To: snopercod
You cry for him, for yourself, for your youth, for your dreams . . .

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Robert Binyon, 1869-1943
52 posted on 01/10/2005 10:30:21 AM PST by AnAmericanMother (. . . Ministrix of ye Chace (recess appointment), TTGC Ladies' Auxiliary . . .)
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