Belated Anzac Day


We were traveling, so I couldn't wish our friends down under the best on time.

On a related note (related because I was just reading a piece with an old digger lamenting how few of them are left) the travel was to NJ for the funeral of Mr. W's beloved uncle and godfather, who served under Patton at the Battle of the Bulge. A lovely man in every respect: jovial, always with a joke, never said no to an opportunity to help, a daily communicant, never without his rosary all his life, never cursed except to say, "Cheese and crackers!" Strong character, gentle demeanor, always thought the best of everyone (except anyone who dared defeat the Giants...everyone's gotta have a vice, I guess).

On our wedding day this uncle gave me my favorite compliment ever: he exulted about our reception (no assigned seats): "This is great. It's like an old union meet-up!" I loved him at once.

Anyway, I made it through the whole funeral and eulogy without crying, but the bugler at the gravesite did me in. What can I say, I'm a sucker for veterans. He was the kind of man for whom the term "man" was made, as Mr. W. said in his eulogy, "the most natural Catholic man I ever knew."