Communing with spirits.

My oldest neighbor is Ed Hinrichs. He's gonna turn 90 later this year. I suppose there'll be a big celebration. Ed is a World War II veteran. Not many of 'em around any more. Ed makes me feel good. Because he reminds me that I'm not the oldest fella in the neighborhood. I suspect there may be a few others still older. Anyway, I can remember World War II. And oh, so many, many wars. Seems to me that the USA is always involved in a war of one kind or another. If not an all-out fighting war -- well, then a war on drugs or a war on terrorism. Anyway, I was fortunate enough to be too young to serve in World War II. I suppose that when I was a youngster, there were still a few veterans from the Civil War. Imagine that. That makes me feel truly old. My paternal grandfather was still living in the 1940s. He was an illegal immigrant. Sneaked into the U.S. from Germany around 1900. And he would have been old enough to serve in World War I. But he didn't. Because he lied about his age. To avoid the draft. Gotta give grandpa credit. He wasn't so stupid to get sent back to Germany to kill Germans, or anyone. I'll have to talk to Ed some day. About war. And whether World War II was a good war. Is there such a thing? I'm also assuming that Ed is of German heritage. And I wonder if he had any German relatives he might have been fighting. If he had any qualms about that. I have German relatives. And I visit 'em in Germany. Fairly often. And they come to visit me, too. Just think. I've walked the very same ground that my ancestors walked in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. Made me feel like I was communing with spirits. Sent chills of delight up and down my spine. Maybe Ed had similar experiences. I'll ask. --Jim Broede