Hartford, CT. Great Circus Fire

by George Arnold

Prose


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by david staffa

Prose


Tonight's Patrol

by Justin Stone

Prose


So this is Memorial Day

by Paul Nyerick

Prose


Welcome to the Suck

by Korby Rhodes

Prose


Too Late

by Tony Craidon

Poem


Dinner for Nine

By Lee Hill, Army

Writing Type: Prose

I reside at the Clinton Veterans Center in Clinton, Okla., and we have many different activities. One of these is a dinner outing. I had been feeling a bit closed in, so I signed up to go along on Sunday, July 27. I arose early in order to prepare for the trip, and I was ready and waiting by the time the bus was ready to go. The trip was quite uneventful until we arrived at our destination. My friends who could walk all made a mad scramble to disembark from the bus. I had to wait for the Tommy lift to set me on terra firma, because I drive a Rascal Three-Wheeler.

We all entered together and were seated at the same table by a very pretty waitress. We ordered our most-wanted dishes, from hamburgers to expensive steaks cooked to order. As we were finishing our salads, the manager came to our table and told us our dinners had all been paid for by a lady who was dining there when we entered. She had asked the manager who we were, wanting to know if we were disabled veterans. The manager had told her we were house-bound veterans from the Clinton Disabled Veterans Center. The lady then asked if she could pay for our dinners and be kept anonymous.

She did so, and told the manager that it was the least she could do. We had done more for her and the United States than most other citizens in our fine country. She wanted to show her appreciation.

Upon hearing this, I assure you that I had to keep my mouth full to keep from crying. The tears were running down my cheeks as it was. Looking down the table, I noticed I was not the only one. More than one hand had to reach to the tears sneaking down cheeks. There was a short period of silence before we all asked in unison who this lady was. The manager informed us that she was bound to secrecy.

We each gave a heartfelt thanks to pass on to our unknown benefactor. Since then, we have decided to purchase a large thank-you card that we all can sign. We’ll send it to the manager of Simon’s Catch to relay to this wonderful lady, to show our thanks and let her know the joyous effect she had on nine lives that day.

I don’t know if my comrades feel the same; but for me, it’s a feeling similar to a resurrection. I had almost come to believe no one cared whether I lived or died. You might say I had begun to think I was just an old crippled, worn-out discard to be a burden to others. This incident has given me a real shot in the arm and restored my faith in my fellow citizens.

I must tell you this lady must be one of the most wonderful people I have most sorrowfully never had the great pleasure to meet. I will always do my utmost to uphold her opinion of me. I am overjoyed to once again have the recognition I once had so many years ago. It is one of the reasons I hold and respect the symbols of our great nation, the Eagle and Old Glory. May her stars and stripes shine on through eternity. May this fine lady stay in good health and be able to enjoy that for the rest of her days.

She will always be in my prayers as I watch the stars at night and wonder which of the brightest one is hers.

Notes: Typist: Kathy Maynard

Iam still standing , she is still standing

by Penny Deere

Prose,Photograph,Art/3d


As sniper Beardsley was good at his work

by William Arthur

Prose


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by Lynwood Hughed

Prose


The Hand of God in Vietnam

by Max Riekse

Prose


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Prose


Zipline

by donna zephrine

Prose