YOU'VE DONE SERVICE IN '45
The other day, in a large and
rambling military cemetery, I
was looking for an uncle I'd
known. A married-in guy, later
in life - nothing blood or like
that. He'd just been buried there
in, maybe, October or so. My
own in-laws were somewhere
there too. This time my wife
found them right off; they're
right at the edge of their row.
It's crummy place though, all
flat plaques, no headstones to
speak off, nothing sticking up
from the ground - row after row
of military casualties and vets.
The people line up, with their
cars, every day, for the latest to
be interred come rolling in. Each
little plaque gives their war and
their dates. Everybody's old now,
and everybody dies; and even
the young ones come here.
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