It is
ten o'clock pm and Memorial Day is quietly folding its tents and slipping away. The last mournful bugle call has sounded, the flags have carefully been folded and stored for another day. The aged Veteran has gone home to try once again to push back those painful memories we revived once again in our thanking him, and another tear steals it way down the creased cheek of a mother as she clasps the folded star she hung in the window for the son or daughter who never came home.
The moon will shine down on the rows of white crosses in Memorial Cemeteries across our land. We have remembered them today and we are thankful, but let us never forget that it was a relay race they so courageously ran. On this day we honor them. Now it is up to us to grasp the baton they have placed in our hands and finish the course they so bravely began.
Bobby Wood
Harrison