Ray of Hope

A few years ago I saw a story that a large number of black baseball players didn’t know who Jackie Robinson was.

Large number?

There shouldn’t be any number.

Unbelievable to me.

But apparently true.

History has always been a favorite subject of mine.

But I am far from an expert.

On anything.

But I do know what I should know.

And I do respect what should be respected.

I’m thrilled to report the same can be said for the students on our school trip to Washington.

As we left the Lincoln Memorial we were greeted at the bottom of the steps by Ray.

Ray is a veteran.

A veteran of World War II.

There were a number of vets roaming around the grounds.

I’m not sure why.

But in our case he provided us with one of the highlights of the day.

It became story time pretty quickly.

And within seconds Ray had these kids in the palm of his hand.

Kids that could’ve been his great great grandkids.

And for 15 minutes his kids listened.

And asked questions.

And paid respect to a man that deserved respect.

Nobody left.

Nobody yawned.

Everyone listened.

Listened to Ray talk about how he spent his 19th birthday.

How he spent his 19th birthday in battle.

A 90-day battle where all but five of those days were fighting for his life.

“We didn’t shave or shower or change our clothes the entire time,” Ray said.

And then Ray showed us his Bronze Star Medal.

Awarded for bravery.

The fourth highest combat award of the U.S. Armed Forces.

And when those 15 minutes ended.

We had all won.