We said goodbye to Red Wilson this week in a little church up in the Cove. A World War II veteran, Red was part of the Normandy invasion and his family honored him with a military burial.Country funerals are a window to a culture and past that is unique and disappearing. Family and friends, generations of folk who have never left the place where they were born, gather in the hollow to say goodbye to a neighbor and help the widow through the ordeal.
The practice is well established: Say last goodbyes to an open casket; listen to fire and brimstone preaching about making your reservation for heaven because if you don't, Jesus will come and steal you in the night and you will go straight to hell; then walk up the hill together to the cemetery for more preaching; afterwards, take fellowship with the family at long church tables filled with huge platters of ham and roast beef, green beans, mashed potatoes, and every kind of whipped jello dish you can imagine.
My dad and uncle were also part of the Normandy Invasion. They never forgot it, and continue to have bad dreams and talked about it until the day they died. Thank you for this reminder, Margo. There can't be too many left. For all those soldiers that gave their life and the wives who gave the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom, Thank you, and God Bless you all.
ReplyDeleteHeartfelt message Loyce. Thanks. Red told me that when their platoon would go to mail call, the West Virginia boys would get nothing because their parents didn't know how to read or write--parents cut off from their sons fighting in another country for our country. Glad to talk to you...miss you.
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