Georgia Green Stamper – Georgia On Her Mind

My daughter and son-in-law once dismissed my annual geranium extravaganza as “too 1970s.” They were newlyweds back then, infused with youthful confidence, and less tactful than they would later become. Before they brought it to my attention, however, I’d had no idea geraniums were as out of style as harvest gold kitchen appliances.

I’m pretty sure I gasped. Maybe I only think I did, embellishing the memory, but a sight that unexpected can make you gasp, and I’m pretty sure I did.

We almost didn’t stop by the farm that afternoon. I was tired. Early that morning, we’d driven to Cincinnati where I’d given a lecture. We needed to get home to Lexington for an evening obligation. But my family’s vacant home-place is halfway between those two cities, and only a few miles off the Interstate. Ernie and I agreed we needed to check on it after a winter of neglect.

My husband would say that we bought our nothing-out-of-the-ordinary suburban home because it had a walkout basement. That’s an uncommon feature, we were surprised to learn, in our more flat than not sub-division. The real reason, however, was its tiny front room.

Veterans Day – formerly known as Armistice Day until we realized peace would ever elude us – seems a good time to tell my Great-Uncle Murf’s story.
This November day of observance first began to honor the veterans of his war, World War I.  And he was the archetypal American soldier. A Kentucky farm boy who’d never been more than a 100 miles from home, drafted but willing and patriotic, he did his duty without glory, without complaint.