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TheFirearmsForum.com
FOUNDED: February 9, 2001 |
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Adnanced Senior Member
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low2go
J. Wilborn Posts: 28 (2/8/01 3:51:42 pm) Reply HERE, LET ME SHOW YA!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kind of a simple statement--'HERE, LET ME SHOW YOU A PICTURE'. Right off the bat, you would mull over in your mind the mood, the conversation, the relationship--oh so many things, but you accept the picture and look at it. Four figures on an aging and somewhat faded photograph that was printed in a national magazine from October 1967. A tiny girl about two--probably dressed in her very best clothing for the occasion--a woman with a fashionable suit and hair style to match the time frame--a silver haired man presenting something to the woman--no smiles at all from anyone--all very somber--the remaining man who is the most identifiable in the group is holding onto the child to keep her from falling off the desk. An American flag hangs forelornly from its staff in the pictures background. You look again at the tiny girl child--at her face--even though the picture is so very small, your eyes are drawn to her eyes--inexoribly drawn to look at the sad, sad, eyes of the child. Your breath catchs in your throat for some unexplained reason as you again scan the individual holding onto the child to keep her from falling. A sad 'hound-dog' looking face with deep creases near the mouth--the nose --the hairline. You look up at the person who proffered you the picture. "What", you exclaim, "what does it mean--this is a picture of LBJ--in his office--probably the oval office--what does it mean", you repeat you query. You wait for an explanation--why does this old photograph mean anything to the person who has offered it for you to look at. You have this leaden feeling in the pit of your stomach--you want to know and again you don't--you look furitivly at the photo again--at the beaten down sad look of the woman--and the sad eyes of that little child--my God, suddenly you are simply perplexed--what can it mean. The silver haired man looks suddenly familiar--you recall having seen him many times in the news of the day--you've got the President pegged--that surely is Lyndon Baines Johnson--who is that sad and forlorn child, obviously with it's mother--my God, such saddness--that tiny ones eyes--like the weight of the world is on those small little shoulders--being held onto the desk so tenderly by the most powerful man on the planet--a moment in time--thirty five or more years ago--I wonder how their lives played out--the child now could be a grandmother herself had her life been graced with children. I wonder if she ever got laughter back into those sad eyes..I'm sure she did--life has a way of mending and going on--we all know that our President died a broken man--maybe he could never forget some of the things the war served up for him. Wilborn sends.
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