But a little background first.
My father passed away 9 months ago. He was almost 90 and lived a long and wonderful life with relatively few regrets.
He was a fighter pilot (P-51s and P-38s) during WWII and had renewed friendships with members of his old squadron – The 364th Fighter Group – and their families over the last 15 years or so. Every year they held a reunion in various parts of the country over four or five days for camaraderie and fun.
Because of the decreasing number of survivors – the war was 65+ years ago – 2011 was going to be the last Reunion. (footnote: The Associates of the 364th - mostly younger family members – have decided to continue the effort on a smaller scale)
This past Saturday was the final banquet dinner for this group of heroes. There were six pilots and two crew members present. My father was very into his military service, the war in particular, and this group of men had been a significant part of his life.
My mother and two brothers decided earlier this year that we would attend in his memory. We also took his burial flag. (footnote #2: The case the flag is housed in was handcrafted by Jim Lance of Lance Cabinets.) I was excited all week leading up to Saturdays banquet but the emotion that overcame me that evening is indescribable.
The host of this years reunion suprised us when, just after the benediction and before the meal was served, he requested that I bring the flag up and the group would give the Pledge of Allegiance. It brings tears to my eyes even now just writing about it. At that moment, I was overwhelmed.
But there's more.
I think there were about 100 people at the dinner arranged at round tables seating 10 people each. It was open seating so when the doors opened it was a bit of a mad dash as people found a table. Because there were 9 in our party, I took the first table we came too.
The centerpiece on each table was a 1/2 gallon mason jar -- like you might use to can fruit or preserves -- with holes cut in the metal lid. Because we were in the Cotton Belt, and it was harvest time, there were cotton bolls (not balls) still on the limbs of the plant stuck thru the lid. Inside the glass jar, pictures from WWII faced out and some colored stars (like on our flag) hung from the branches. These centerpieces were later given to 'winners' at the table.
About 20 minutes into our meal, my brother Gary says, "This looks like dad" as he was pointing to one of the pictures. And it was him. From 1944. He had given an autographed copy of this picture to the historian for the Reunion committee years ago. I asked Cheely (the historian) if all the centerpieces had the same photo. They did not! Of all the tables for us to sit at -- dad was already there!
