Hattie’s View: The Greatest Generation

By Ellen Coffey

Did you notice the Fall scenery was extremely colorful in our area this season? I soaked up the beauty of God’s handiwork while driving around shopping and running errands. I’m sure the mountains must have been beautiful this year as well.

While I really missed our annual road trips up to the Tennessee mountain Lodge this year, we stayed at home yielding to age and health issues. But I don’t think the fall scenery there could have been any prettier.

Switching thoughts here.

In recent days Hubby and I, along with millions of viewers, watched the televised historical events of the life and legacy of President 41, George HW Bush, perhaps one of the last heroes of America’s greatest generation. He embodied service above self, an extraordinary example of a servant-leader, a man of quiet faith and gentle spirit.

We were reminded of his many accomplishments.

During WWII, though his plane also was shot down, he returned to fly more than 50 additional missions. He experienced joys, sorrows, dangers, fame, loss of a toddler, and the recent loss Barbara, his wife of 62 years.

He made no bones about his faith and belief in Heaven. He spoke of being reunited with his beloved wife, and daughter, Robin, who died at age three from Leukemia.

He was modestly satisfied that he had shown the world his love of God, country, family and fellow man.

Now he was ready to wrap his arms around his toddler and hold the hand of his life partner, Barbara.

Perhaps its even possible they would spend this Christmas together. Yes, you could say George H.W, Bush was revered, even loved.

Grandma Hattie often said, “You’ll love me once you get to know me.”

President Bush had political opponents and adversaries, still, he was loved and respected by most who knew him.

My heart ached for the president’s yellow service lab, Sully, who honored his master by laying close to the flag-draped coffin.

I won’t soon forget the awesome tribute of one soldier to another. A former political opponent, fragile Bob Dole, struggled from his wheelchair, to stand to his feet and salute his fallen fellow statesman.

Millions watched the entire unforgettable process from motorcade, and 90-mile train trip, to the closing gates at his library burial site.

Like this year’s beautiful Fall scenery, that has all but disappeared, we may have witnessed the disappearance of the last of America’s greatest generation.

Makes one want to have a more gentle spirit and leave the agitators and accusers to the Supreme Judge.

And as Grandma alluded, it would be nice if we could each say, “To know me is to love me.” Y ‘all.

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