#021

This week's photo was taken by Jerry Hartman. Jerry has shared several wonderful photos with 110. When I first asked Jerry about his photos, he had this to say, "I took these when we were in Kazakhstan for 7 weeks (that’s 49 days too long) adopting our daughter Anastasia."

And Linda Gail Adams' entry was oh so worthy this week. Not only could I visualize the rush her character was in (no time to tie her scarf), but the ending made me laugh out loud. and it slightly reminded me of something my dad would get excited about. Read on, you'll see how wonderful this bit is.

His Hero
By: Linda Gail A.

Ralph didn’t even let me wash my hair. He saw his hero was in town and we had to leave within a minute. Ralph grabbed his jacket, pinned on his numerous medals and he was out the door before I could tie my scarf. His medals of “bravery” were each earned by turning in ten cereal box tops and signing a form promising to be brave. Ralph honks the horn. I hurry out to the car and soon we’re on our way to the mall; Ralph, me and hundreds of five year old kids to see his hero, Scooby-do.


William Rudolph Kincaid
By: Randy H.

Died January 26, 2009 at the age of 82. Beloved husband of Mildred Warner Kincaid, loving father to daughters Kimberly Fairchild & Joyce Woods, and cherished grandfather to 13 grandchildren. Preceded in death were three sons; William, Bradley, & Daniel. Known for his patriotism, Kincaid adorned proudly the military achievements of his sons who died in service of their country. Memorial service to be held Friday, January 30 at 10 am. The medals of valor will be bestowed to his loving wife and will then be donated to the National Museum in honor of her friend, hero, and soul mate. Family and friends will be received at a private burial

"Lop-sided Jacket"
By: Tim P.

Straining to see, Harold reports, “No, Sugar. I don’t think this is the entrance either.”

Pensive, Edith complains, “We’re going to miss the whole thing!”

“Let’s try down that way.” Harold leads through the bustle, her aged waddle anxiously trying to keep up with his impatient stride. His jacket lop-sided with the burden of these ridiculous medals. Edith had insisted he wear every one – even the two he received for “Custodian of the Year” (’91, ’94).

“If it’s that important to you,” he had told her, “I’ll wear them.”

“It is,” Edith confirmed. “I want everyone at the reunion to see what a fine gentleman I have for a husband.”

Omigawsk
By: Russ B.

It was quite a sight to behold. People world-over traveled to the small eastern Siberian town, Omigawsk.

Boris was quite proud of his new creation... even without all the medals from the Ministry of Art.
“This is the best I have done! And to have made it an age of 85!”

He beamed with pride.

Svetlana was also proud to have been the model for his creation. His medals probably meant more to her. She new that Boris’s wife, Olga, thought the medals were for some earlier work, done during the USSR era. But she knew better. They were for the glistening, 50 foot, nude statue of her.

The Tramp
By: Deb F.

Gladys could see the nostalgia well up in his eyes as he watched the street performers. It was 52 years since Marcus stood on the podium at the World Games. In 1956, he won three silvers for trampoline performances in individual and pairs. In ‘57 he scupped all the gold medals. Marcus’ flips, height and pikes were perfect. After trampoline was dropped as a world-class sport, his work was done in secret for the KGB. No more glory days. Gladys encouraged him to wear the medals on walks. She got a tingle at the base of her spine when she reminisced about their passionate times on the trampoline—together.

Symbols
By: Mary F.

Valentine’s recovery was slow. Silva watched his anxiety grow as the house deteriorated. She sold the house and now, the day before the festival, they were unpacking in an unfamiliar apartment. Silva reached for a trash bag and noticed the box of metals. “Valentine, what is this doing here?”

“Its trash”, Sil, just history”.

“Sit, love” she said, reaching into the box. “Remember this metal, your first, the year we married. You won for us.”

One metal at a time, she told the story of their lives together.

The next morning, she handed him his suit coat. “We go again today - to remember and to celebrate.”

“Yes, my love.”

Flashback
By: TresK

Stan breathed in the heavy aromas of the street vendors. From somewhere in that mix of smells, the scent of roasting peanuts prodded deep into his brain. Becky, his wife of 32 years, was unaware of the pangs of longing that smell elicited, unaware of Stan’s sudden desires, just as she remained unaware of the true meaning of his medals.

He’d always hedged about his war years, calling it “psychological research.” Becky would have tried to understand (she was a good woman) but she’d never know the true pain he’d endured or what it cost him to learn certain secrets. She didn’t know about his time as a squirrel.

Untitled
By: Josh S.

"Owen, I wish you wouldn't flaunt your metals in public"

"Oh come now Beru."

"Its just that since the last Fair, people have become suspicious"

"We've won twelve years straight, I can wear my prizes anywhere I want to"

"Its just that with those baseball players getting busted, the judges have tightened their rules and they might require testing next year."

"Ever since they changed to metals instead of blue ribbons, we've had to step our game up to keep up with the competition. What do you think tipped them off?"

"Naming our last pig Barry Bonds! The two people to our right are on to us, we should leave."