No one needs a reminder that today is 9/11. September 11, 2011. Ten years since that infamous day when terrorists flew planes into the Twin Towers. No doubt you remember where you were on that day when you heard the news. You don't need my thoughts on this, so I'm going to write about something else.
Today would be my parents' 67th wedding anniversary. They were married September 11, 1944. There was no big wedding, only a civil service where my mother wore a simple suit. They returned to a small apartment. I remember my father telling me that they had only a dishpan to set up housekeeping. They used it to heat up a can of oyster stew.
Shortly after that, my father was shipped out to the Pacific Theatre. My mother stayed behind, working to support herself and to send money home to her widowed mother. When my father returned to the States, they decided that he would attend law school. With both of them working and help from the GI Bill, he was able to afford tuition.
There was no sense of entitlement. Indeed, they would not have understood the meaning of the word. They lived frugally, worked hard, and were grateful for the opportunities afforded them.
My parents lived together, loved together, and, yes, sometimes fought together, for over fifty years. In their last few years together, when my mother suffered from breast cancer, my father tenderly cared for her.
So, for today, I am grateful for my parents and the legacy they left.