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Show 24-2 "The pastors of our Methodist, Lutheran and Episcopalian neighbors," the minister went on, "have joined with me in a committee which we hope will be filled out by laymen such as yourselves, to begin raising money and planning the design for a monument to be built in front of city hall, a monument to all those who died in the great war just passed." Around me a stir, people turning to those beside, in front and in back, whispering, patting, nodding. On either side of me, from my parents, only silence. "We plan to list the names of those who died along with an appropriate quotation. Of course, we men of the cloth hope for something of a religious nature but we'll be flexible." The minister held his hands out as he always did in benediction. "I just wanted you all to know this was being discussed. I also ask that your prayers bless this project and that we all search our hearts for guidance as to how much we each personally can pledge. Are there any questions or comments?" After a moment or two of silence, several people rose to speak, to praise the project and to commend the minister for his efforts. They all mentioned how this was the best way to remember those who were lost. Mrs. Crawford, a friend of my grandmother's was sitting in front of us. She turned around, patted Mother on the knee and spoke to my grandparents. "Isn't this just grand? For all the dear boys. And your blessed Paul." Grandmother nodded to her but did not speak. My grandfather cleared his throat. He sounded angry. Suddenly my mother stood up. Her hands clutched the back of the pew in front of her. She waited as Mr. Twitchell across the aisle finished what he was saying. Then the minister turned to her. "Ah, Mrs. Metcalf." He smiled at her. "Reverend Bingham," she began. Then paused. |
