Chapter 29

Victor Dinsmore could not believe it had been a year since that tragic afternoon. When he had received the invitation to attend the dedication of the memorial he had been very hesitant.
"Well, considering they're going to bless your grandson after the conclusion of the ceremonies," his wife put in, "I really think we ought to go. Just about everybody in town is going to be there."
So here Victor was standing by the twelve sided memorial. He stood before the plaque telling what had happened for some time, reading the account. Then he stepped around to the first picture. It was of a pleasant looking man with glasses. The inscription read "Howard Anderson, 42, engineer, widower. No children. Took his vacation time to come and fight for right."
He stepped in front of the next plaque. "Fred Hutcihinson, 39, accountant, married. Wife Mary, sons Fred and James, daughter Sue. Shut down his business to come and help."
The next one read "Peter Wellington, 35, a visitor from England where he kept an inn. Was just conversing with a friend. Widower, no children"
The next one read "Chuck Rivers, a Texan with a lot of money and plenty of free time, that liked to make a nuisance of himself. Married, wife's name Rosita. Son Churck Jr., daughter Rose."
The next one read "Paul Witherspoon, 28, lawyer. Left his practice to make a point for the law. Married, wife Francine, three daughters, Ellie, Mary, Sherrie."
The next one read "Peter O'Shaughanassey, 27, carpenter between jobs. Had some free time so came to help. Married, wife Deborah, daughters Penny, Patricia, Catherine."
The next plaque brought tears to Dinsmore's eyes. "Catherine O'Shaughanessey, three years old. She came to watch her daddy fight the baddies. She saw him die just before she did."
The next plaque showed a pretty young girl. "Allison Clearwater," it read, "16, called Bunny by her friends, because she hopped around so much. She was bringing her mother a thermos. She was mad because she was too young to take part."
The next plaque read "Deborah Whitewater, 22, college student, valedictorian. Was going to be a doctor and help the sick."
The next one read "Mary Dansman, 32, mother of four that just had to take a turn. Husband George, sons Willie, Ben, Frank, daughter Tootie."
Dinsmore was relieved to get to the final plaque. "Helen Raddison, a spinster with little to do that wanted to put her time to good use. She had already been arrested once, but was going around again."
Eleven heroes, Dinsmore thought. He admired how the memorial was made so that the solar panels were incorporated beautifully on them. They would charge the batteries all day so that the light over each picture would shine all night, and the torch being held up by the hand at the top of the memorial would shine, as well.
He stepped back and looked to the left, where the little chapel was, where people could pray, and then to the right where the 45 minute show would be presented on the hour from seven in the morning to seven at night. No fee would be asked, but there were donation slots in both the chapel and the theater. Yes, he thought this was all very good. It was very nice. He was glad he'd come.
Henry Jones came out of the crowd. "Pretty nice, isn't it, Victor?" he remarked.
"Yes," Dinsmore answered, "but let's move off. The documentary's almost up to the part where the reporter starts screaming "My God! My God! He's shooting them!" I don't want to see that today."
His friend nodded. "Still rips me, too," he acknowledged. "I took a look at the ramp facilities. It's going to be great! Twenty machines will fit on each trailer, with ample seating in the buses. With six of the units running all day we'll be whisked across the resort to the other trail and back almost as fast as we could ride. It was quite an idea The First Speaker came up with. We can still reach both trails, but they don't have to worry about the noise of the machines in the resort. Wish to hell we could have come up with something like this before!"
Tears welled up in Henry's eyes. "Yeah!" Victor agreed, "So do I!"
"Speaking of you know who, here he comes! We'd better get to our seats."
His old friend nodded, and Dinsmore joined his family. "Is it a little too cold out here for Little Vic?" he asked his daughter.
"He's doing just fine, daddy!" his daughter answered. "Shush! Here's The First Speaker!"

Page 51

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