Discussion in 'Vietnam Stories: By John H. Wilborn' started by Guest, Feb 26, 2003.

  1. Guest

    Guest Guest

    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
    that was printed in a national magazine from
    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
    frame--a silver haired man presenting something
    to the
    woman--no smiles at all from anyone--all very
    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
    holding onto the child to keep her from
    falling. A sad
    looking face with deep creases near the
    mouth--the nose
    --the hairline. You look up at the person who
    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
    you repeat you query. You wait for an
    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
    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
    pegged--that surely is Lyndon Baines
    Johnson--who is that
    sad and forlorn child, obviously with it's
    God, such saddness--that tiny ones eyes--like
    the weight
    of the world is on those small little
    held onto the desk so tenderly by the most
    powerful man
    on the planet--a moment in time--thirty five or
    years ago--I wonder how their lives played
    out--the child
    now could be a grandmother herself had her life
    graced with children. I wonder if she ever got
    back into those sad eyes..I'm sure she
    did--life has a
    way of mending and going on--we all know that
    President died a broken man--maybe he could
    never forget
    some of the things the war served up for him.
    Wilborn sends.