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Myra Black Gossens
Though I've lived in Washington since 1976, I still get chill bumps (goose flesh, they call it here) when I see the magnificent sight of the new Air Force Memorial, a soaring sculpture which recently rose overnight across the Potomac. Only last week, at the groundbreaking of the memorial to Martin Luther King, it was clear to me that my emotions were just a prelude to feelings I will experience when it is dedicated in a few years. But it was in Swainsboro-not Washington-that I realized real tributes have little to do with monolithic grandeur or world-class pageantry. At the dedication of the WWII Veterans' Wall at Franklin Memorial Library, it was clear that the most meaningful tributes are to the people around us, in our own lives, who courageously fight the wrongs perpetrated by evil. When this nation's majestic World War II Memorial was dedicated, I was lucky enough to attend many of the inspiring events. Though my father was already too feeble to attend, I sent him posters, programs and pictures of the grand tributes. I thought this Washington moment was my celebration of my father's heroism in the war. I thought this until that recent Sunday afternoon in Swainsboro, looking around the room at men and women I had known my whole life and realizing this was far grander than what I had experienced in our nation's capital. From the moment the Keynotes sang the service songs and the veterans stood or waved as they were musically saluted, my emotions were roiled like a big bass breaking the surface of a pond. Dr. Gunn stilled my soul's turbulence momentarily when he asked us to join in silence for those who never returned. Holding Mother's hand was the only way I made it through Ennis Bragg's heart rending "Taps" without sobbing. John Morgan, my SHS classmate, spoke powerfully in his keynote address about why this generation is referred to as the greatest. He talked about America being unified as a nation for the only time in our country's history-never before, never since. He said from the heart that he believes it was this generation's selflessness that made them great, people who did not question their duty or shrink from responsibilities, and who from all we observed over the years, put aside the horrors of their experiences and set about living the rest of their lives. I was proud of John that day. Small towns like Swainsboro do not often produce true philanthropists. John is one, and Swainsboro-along with Emory University and other institutions-has benefited. John and his family's Mill Creek Foundation understood Ginger Bolton's vision for this WWII Wall project and with generous support, helped bring her vision to reality. That is one kind of gift. John's wise insights at the dedication were generosity of a different nature: a thoughtful perspective on this poignant time and a moving tribute to those in the room and those memorialized on the walls. Even to one 600 miles away, Mrs. Bolton's passionate commitment to memorialize the service of my Dad and all the others has been compelling. She and her colleagues, the volunteers and supporters have ensured we will continue to respect and admire the men and women captured in the touching images on the library walls. After the ceremony that Sunday afternoon, I walked slowly through the gallery of beautifully-framed photographs, feeling the chill bumps and blinking back tears. Though we grew up knowing these men and women as fathers or uncles or mothers of friends or educators or plumbers or lawyers or Sunday school teachers or just friends, now we know them as heroes. Washington's memorials somehow seem more distant in comparison.-- Myra Black Gossens is the daughter of Swainsboro citizen and pharmacist William H. Black, Machine Gun Squad, 1st Platoon, Company A, 56th Armored Infantry Battalion, 12th Armored Division, who earned a Purple Heart in the Battle of Herrlisheim and who died December 24, 2005; and Elmyra Jackson Black, who interrupted pursuit of her college degree to work in support of the troops at Warner Robbins Air Force Base. Both are featured on the walls of the Franklin Memorial Library.
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