This year is the 250th birthday of our great nation.
As I wrote in a recent post, I'm in the middle of reading the book Once Upon A Town, by Bob Greene,
about the unrivaled love, support, and patriotism that was exhibited during World War II by midwestern women in the state of Nebraska as they met train after train bringing troops through North Platte, Nebraska--just three hours south of us here in southern South Dakota.
If they weren't pouring coffee, the women were serving pheasant sandwiches, boiled eggs, cold milk, fried chicken, cookies, doughnuts, or birthday cakes. Depending on the season, they would serve corn on the cob or popcorn balls (in some of which were hidden names and addresses of young women who were willing to write to a serviceman, and at least two women ended up marrying the young men who got acquainted through popcorn balls! Of course, there were the young women from families or churches who wouldn't dream of hiding a name and address in a popcorn ball, but then there were the others, and it took all of them to make North Platte Canteen what it was--a place so many servicemen remembered with emotions that could not be controlled--because there they felt a love they never felt anywhere else quite the same.
I would read the book and put it down. It filled me with nostalgia, wishing for those "good old days" where simple country people were so willing to sacrifice so much for their boys and the cause of freedom. If anyone thinks prices and inflation is bad nowadays, you should read this book. During World War II, even sugar was rationed. People didn't go places just to go somewhere. They car pooled and only drove a vehicle when necessary, bringing gasoline in a can with them to help with the trip to the train station, and they rarely traveled, not just because gas was rationed, but to save the tires.
"America got its rubber from Japan, and the government didn't want us to burn up the tires. That's why people weren't supposed to just drive around. But we would drive to North Platte, to the Canteen. And when the trains rolled in . . ."
I wondered what we could do that would even start to compare with what those groups of women did to serve so many thousands of troops on the trains.
We can't.
We can't compete with all that. We are in a different generation.
But when Mathel Ambrose asks if we ladies might be interested in helping embroider some patches for a quilt commemorating the 250th anniversary of our country, I could say yes. I finished the third and last patch Friday to take to Mathel to give the quilt lady. It wasn't much, but thinking about the women during World War II gave me the inspiration to keep embroidering even when my fingers ached after chemo.
Our country still exists in freedom 250 years after its birth, and that is something to celebrate.
We can make pies that nearly always get shared out with people around us.
We can go up like we did last week, to our pastor's wife's garden that she isn't able to plant anymore, and while I hoed, weeded, and mulched, Hannah operated the weedwhacker and got the edges of the yard and drive nice for the Ambroses who can hardly get around anymore. Later she did more and also mowed.
I didn't feel like doing all that garden work. I was getting more and more tired and stiff, but I kept at it. I think about women in olden times and other cultures, where hard garden work was and is a given just to survive.
We listen to Mathel tell us that she doesn't want to move where she doesn't know anyone or have any friends or any ministry--just to be near family in their old age. And I know that means we will have to step up and help. Mr. Ambrose is a veteran. He came back from Vietnam with injuries that still affect him to this day.
We can't serve American boys at North Platte Canteen anymore because it doesn't exist (Union Pacific Railroad Company tore the place down against the townspeople's wishes long years ago) but we can help serve and bless the elderly veterans who have served our country--including our own elderly pastor and his wife.
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