- by Ron D. Voigts When the second plane hit the World Trade Center with a fireball explosion, a hand darted out and shut the TV off. "We don't need to watch this. It's too upsetting for some of us." The dayroom supervisor at Shady Oaks Rest Home walked to a table littered with cards, and games and magazines. "This is a good time to spend a quiet day." No one moved. They all gazed at the dead TV screen with their mouths gaping and eyes bulging. One woman began to weep. A man asked what happened to Oprah. Maude Grisham said, "Oh, dear," stood and returned to her room. Behind her she heard some one asking when the TV would go on again. Others asked what was happening. Two nurses headed toward the dayroom while the supervisor setup up a game of checkers. As she passed Sparky Wilcox's room, he pushed his head out into the hall. "I got my radio on. They say America is under attack." "Oh, dear," said Maude and she tried to walk faster, but the arthritis in her hip kept her pace to a steady wobble. "I've got to find something." In her room, in the bottom drawer of her dresser, she found an old gift box with gold script on the lid. Marshal Fields. She sat in the corner chair with the box planted on her lap. The lid fell back to the floor as her crippled hands pushed inside. Her grade school graduation picture lay at the top of the heap of keepsakes. Class of 1941. Pearl Harbor was bombed that year. Her father had bought little flags for everyone in the family. They would turn out for the parades to honor the boys going off to war, and she would wave her flag. Her older brother, Robert, fought on Normandy Beach and lived to tell the story. In 1950 she married Harold Grisham, a tall lanky man with a wide grin and an unruly cowlick. He was already in the army, and they had a military style wedding. She became pregnant just before he shipped out to Korea. He fought at the battle of Bloody Ridge and by God's grace came home to her and his son Danny. Her fingers slid across the smooth surface of the sepia washed wedding picture with Harold in his uniform and she in a modest, white dress. They stood by the altar in the base chapel next to an American flag. Maude sighed and dropped the picture with the other one into the upturned lid. Danny grew into adulthood. Grade school. Boy Scouts. High school. He went almost two years to college and then dropped out. The draft took him, and he shipped out to Vietnam. He really didn't want to be there, but he said they were fighting for someone's freedom. A land mine took his life three months later. Maude laid Danny's death notice in the pile of pictures she had pulled from the box. Harold never quite recovered from Danny's death. When he came home from work, he always paused at Danny's high school graduation picture on the fire place mantle. Once she moved the picture from the living room to the bedroom. It was the only time Harold ever raised his voice to her. She returned it to its place where it stayed long after his death in 1989. She lifted Danny's picture from the box still in its gilded gold frame and laid it on the pile. By the Gulf War, she was alone. Matthew Sikes, her brother's grandson, fought in that one. She placed a yellowed newspaper with the other memories. The headline declared SADAM SURRENDERS. She pulled a few more pictures aside until she found it. The red stripes had turned pink. The blue field only held 48 stars. The wooden dowel was stained and cracked. She lifted it out. Outside in the hall, the commotion had increased. Someone said they hit the Pentagon. The towers had collapsed. Another plane had crashed in Pennsylvania. Maude made her way back to the dayroom and stood next to the silent TV. She held the flag up and waved it. Sparky Wilcox placed his hand over his heart and began singing, "God bless America." Soon everyone was singing, even the nurses and dayroom supervisor. Her old arms ached from holding the flag, but she kept it high and proud. |
