The double -clicking of the Pullman’s wheels
\nslowed as the train approached the station;
\nonly then did he realize his pulse was accelerating.
\nWould it follow that when the train stopped
\nhis heart would burst like an Axis grenade
\nin this peaceful land? As he reached into the
\noverhead rack for his kit bag, he saw the
\nlittle rapids that ran down the slope beside
\nthe tracks. He used to fish off the trestle
\njust down the rails and around the bend.
\nPeople smiled as he and the other servicemen
\nmade their way down the aisle. He could hear
\nthe porter opening the door and steps to the
\napproaching station platform. Soon, the train
\nglided to a stop and the vibration of travel ended.
\nHe stepped off into a blast of white steam
\nthat was as obscuring as the people on the platform:
\nhe was looking for her and the children, wondering\u2014
\nwell, knowing\u2014 that they would remember.
\nHe caught a glimpse through the shoulders, backs
\nelbows, and hats and rucksacks, couples kissing.
\nIt could hardly be them: the children were so tall
\nand she seemed so short\u2014 and so old and strange.
\nShe looked so different in that lipstick, and her hair
\nhad never looked that way before: so wavy and
\nartificial. Suddenly, he was hugging her and she
\nseemed so light, as if she might blow away or he
\nmight crush her. In the bus on the way back to
\ntown, he placed his officer’s hat on his daughter’s
\nhead. As she looked at her mother, her face bloomed
\ninto a smile as she said, “Mamma, that man
\nput his hat on me!”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was on the other side of this meeting in 1945, and it was just as strange to me. (#1007) Continue reading