August 31, 2013
I was born in West Virginia and recall that as a kid of maybe five, six, or seven, we would make our monthly trip to Charleston. It is quite natural to forget much after sixty years but there is one man that I shall never forget. I never knew his name or anything about him other than the fact that he had a little four wheeled platform built low to the ground and that was his means of transportation as both of his legs had been blown off up to the hips. From that platform he sold pencils for a nickle each and promoted a love for this nation in the little American flag that waved from his pencil canister. You see, that was about 1950, and sometime in the six to ten years prior to me taking my nickle over and buying a pencil from him he had lost both legs in service to this nation, and that little cart had become his legs, and his pencil canister a message board. On that can was a purple heart, a thank you note of sorts from an appreciative nation, and the rest of the message was the little flag that told the world he would do it all again. Thinking back, legs or not, I believe that he was the tallest man I ever met.