-^-for posterity-^-

i wanted to tell a story here for a long time but have never remembered at the right times.

on my first full day back in the united states, after a long trip that verged on masochism, i ate breakfast with my grandfather. we met at our local, favorite hang-out, sat down and began to talk.

i sat next to my grandfather and talked. i spent a lot of time with my grandfather when i was growing up. he had a house across the street from the franconia elementary school on route 113. his laws always seemed to be freshly cut and he always had geraniums on his baby-blue front porch.

at the end of his driveway, right in front of the garage, there were always a small army of cats sunning themselves. they would scatter as you approached them but, every so often, they would have babies up in the attic of the barn. they would nestle themselves in an old box filled with newspapers and my brother, grandfather and i would run up to see them. jason and i would mercilessly bother them.

one moment stands clearly in my head. it was the day a handful of kittens died. i clearly remember walking out into the meadow with the limp bodies of the four, five, six or seven beings shuffling against the sides of a cardboard box my grandfather carried. we dug a hole in the ground. it wasn't a deep hole but we were all satisfied with our work. we kindly placed the bodies in the ground, all nestled against one another, and my grandfather asked me to say a short prayer.

my brother stood across from me as i prayed. i don't remember what i said, i only remember that i, for some reason, sang 'amazing grace'. i guess it seemed appropriate at the time. we covered the dead kittens up and walked back to the house feeling empty.

when my grandfather and i were having breakfast, we weren't talking about the dead kittens. i just remembered them and wanted to type about them. we talked about life, food, girls and cars. it was a good talk.

i ate scrapple and cream dried beef on white toast with a cup of coffee.

at the end of our meal, as the waitress was bringing the bill, my grandfather decided to share something with her. he looked at her and said this: 'this is my grandson jonathan and he spent two years in vietnam. he just got home.'

she turned to look at me. i was embarrassed but she was beaming. she grinned and said, 'i... i... just want to honor you. i want to honor you and all of the other soldiers over there.'

*pause.

'i... i... just want to honor you. i want to honor you and all of the other soldiers over there.'

is all this work in vain?