Tomorrow is November 11th, which is both Veteran’s Day and my birthday. My mother used to say she timed my birth so she could be home with me on my special day. (Back then, she was driving mail on a Star Route in rural, eastern South Dakota—seven days a week, 52 weeks, except for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and, by the time I was born, Veterans Day.)
I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently because my nephew is downsizing, and he gave me a stack of old papers his mother (my late sister, Jan) had squirreled away. One item was a nearly pristine Autograph Book. It obviously was a gift to Jan on her 11th birthday. Below is the message Mom wrote. It brought a tear and a cosmic shiver because I was reading it on what would have been Jan’s 85th birthday.
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