In my last posting, I questioned whether anyone was reading this blog, since I hadn’t received any feedback in some time. I said that, unless I got a response from somebody, I would not continue.
This morning I received an e-mail from a woman named Alejandra in Argentina, who asked me to continue since this blog helped her with her English. Thank you for your interest, Alejandra. This story is for you:
As I was running a few days ago, another runner caught up to me (at 78 I don’t run very fast) and we ran together for a mile or so, talking. Being neighbors, we tried to find out if we knew any of the same people, but we couldn’t find any. But we did get onto the subject of the “six degrees of separation” theory, meaning that, supposedly, if you count “someone who knows someone” six times, you can reach anyone on earth. This reminded me of a story that I went on to share with him.
You see, I came to America at the age of 9, landing in New York in May of 1941. My mother and I moved in with an aunt and uncle of mine who had an apartment on the West Side of Manhattan. And on November 11th, Armistice Day, which we now call Veterans’ Day, I walked to Broadway to watch a parade.
There was a band and units of soldiers in helmets, with rifles on their shoulders. Behind them a group of WW I veterans marched proudly, in their puttees and Smoky Bear hats. And behind these veterans there were several open cars containing bearded old men, mostly in blue uniforms, but some in gray ones.
Now, I didn’t know much about U.S. history, at that time, so I took these men to be retired city and state policemen. It was some time later that I realized that they were soldiers from the Civil War.
Thinking back over that experience, I’ve come to the conclusion that some of these Civil War veterans must have, certainly, laid eyes on Gen. Robert E. Lee, commander of the Army of Northern Virginia. Gen. Lee’s father was Light Horse Harry Lee, a soldier in the Revolutionary War and a personal friend of Gen. George Washington. Which means that I’m separated from the “Father of our County” by only three degrees. It’s an interesting thought to ponder on a quiet evening.