America Revues
Stories... True... or... Not...

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Ancient Bowls

Lazarus - A second Chance
by Ron Baker

The illness had come upon him suddenly. He hadn’t felt his normal self for at least two weeks. Then he lost energy and became weaker by the day. Now all he wanted to do was sleep. And he did sleep – a deep, deep sleep.

His sisters had finally called for their friend. They had waited, fearing to disturb him as they mistakenly thought their brother showed signs of improvement. After all, he was a vigorous 33 years old and had never shown illness previously.

He lay still and stiff. Everything seemed so dark and lifeless. His arms seemed like stones. Suddenly, a pinpoint of light appeared far away. It grew closer and closer, until he felt he could reach and touch it ... but he was afraid.

“What is this? What is happening?” he thought.

A feeling of calm enveloped him and he knew he was dreaming. “That’s it. I’m dreaming.” Then he recognized his friend.

“Look,” said his friend. “You must give me your attention now and for the moment forget your fatigue. Come on! You can do it!”

“That’s right!” he encouraged. “I have something very important to say to you. I know you will not fail me. In fact, I know you want to help me in every way you can,” his friend said.

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Forrest R. Baker, 80th Inf. Div., 3rd US Army

My Brother's Note
by Ron Baker

My brother sent me a link to a tremendous story about heroes: PBS, History Detectives Help Return Soldier's Diary To Vietnamese Family.

The story reminded me about asking our father what among all his WWII memories he felt most positive. He told the story of one night digging his foxhole and remembering a barn not too far away. He went alone to the barn looking for some straw to line his foxhole. He found some, slung his rifle on his back, and filled his arms with straw.

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Grandma & the Incinerator

Along the Way
by Ron Baker

When I was a child, my family next-to-never went on a real vacation… you know, like go somewhere far away to see something. I remember one time, though, in the late 1950s when we did.

We left Akron, Ohio and headed for Washington, D.C.

Along the way we stopped at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. We walked a little of the battlefield and saw the big Cyclorama painting of Pickett's Charge and then watched a movie. Later, we visited the museum store. As a remembrance, our mom bought us two little U.S. and Confederate flags.

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