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Show 27-6 My grandparents were terribly upset that Mother would not go with us to the ceremony but she insisted that she had too much to do at home. She had never told them about her talk with the minister nor had John. He still seemed angry with Mother and would not kiss her good-bye, even when she pulled her to him. He ignored me. My grandparents and John found seats along the street, near the roped off slab of concrete where the ceremony was to be held. I went off to find my friends and to turn myself over to Miss Doweckie for warm-ups and last instructions. We all sat on risers to one side of the speaker's platform so I could watch as the crowd began to gather. Everyone was dressed up with bright colored ribbons in hats and in women's hair. Someone was selling balloons and their bright colors added to the feeling of a summer carnival. The band was warming up behind us and men in dark long coats stood in groups under the speaker's stand. Other men in uniforms covered with ribbons gathered under the trees and smoked cigarettes. Everyone was waiting for the parade to begin. As I watched, I suddenly thought back to the train station where I had waited with Mother for Father to come home. I saw again the lines of men, again in uniform, jump off the train and run to their families. Maybe some of those men now stood under the shadows. But the men in wheelchairs and on stretchers were not here today. They would never be in a parade again. They were not here today to hear the bands and the speeches. I glanced at the speaker's platform and at the concrete slab in front of it. On an easle to the side was a drawing of the monument and a list of the names that would be there. Those men were not really here today either. And the happy crowd in front of me were not thinking of them. I thought again of my mother's words to the minister. "Dying in a bed crying like a child or in a muddy field shot to death." All of this today had nothing to do with that. I sighed and looked down at my hands. |