Thursday, September 10, 2009


Lately, I've been traveling homeward bound by way of  the "country" backroads to briefly capture views of spectacular scenery.  I speed by the miles, watching as the foilage, once green and luscious, begins to shed her bounty of summer.  I'm ever so enchanted with the bright and bold hues of Fall as she slides  silently and almost shadowlike in her demeanor to claim her rightful place in the scheme of seasons. I've got to say, this 30s and 40s kinda gal has been feeling a bit nostalgic, from the visceral reaction, perhaps, to this glorious season.  I'm pining for what memory has left me with, what experience has engrained upon my heart and too, what has been taught us through history.

If you will,  journey back with me, to the 1940s for just a while and picture the moving stories of love, sacrifice and endurance that most American families were certainly engaged in during WWII.

Norman Rockwells' pictures, such as this one,  minutely reveal so many unspoken words and thoughts.  Perhaps, this GI Joe, stationed overseas during World War II, has been chosen to celebrate a holiday with his wife, children and various family members all bound by love, in a very special homecoming.  Perhaps, later and back at the fury of the front, he'll be called upon by his commander for an elusive and dangerous mission to save lives, which only he is able to fulfill.   I shudder to even consider, if  this homecoming is the last homecoming for...possibly forever.  From my safe little car traveling over these American Roads made safer by GI Joes and Janes, I prefer to imagine this soldier coming home to raise his children and boast of his grandchildren...ah, yes,...the hero!

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