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The eloquence of the Greatest Generation

I received a lovely surprise today at work: A thank-you bouquet from a WWII veteran.

This veteran is originally from the town where I work and at 90 years old must be one of a very small number of men left who had served in World War II. He had seen an article I wrote recently about the Roll of Honor, a local monument to the area's WWII veterans (both the living and those who've passed on). So he called me this week, hoping someone at the paper could send him a photo of the monument.

He lives out of town and had never seen it since it was rebuilt in 2010, even though his name and those of several of his relatives are on it.

I couldn't find him any from the paper but I snapped a few with my phone on my way to an assignment and emailed them to him. He replied with his thanks and I figured that was taken care of.

Then about noon today, one of the front desk ladies brought these peach roses, saying they were delivered for me. For the life of me I couldn't guess who had sent them, until I read the short note with the veteran's name.

In flower language, peach means gratitude. Those of us in journalism treasure every kind word we receive - there is a bulletin board at work with the note cards we've received over the years pinned to it, just to remind us that not all the feedback we get is negative. But this is by far the most pleasant "thank you" any of us in the newsroom has ever gotten.

Comments

Abby said…
Indeed, nice flowers. :-)

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