The picture at left was taken today. The location is in Saint Paul near Como Park, about 2.5 miles from home. It is Sheldon Street, looking north from Frankson. The street is lined, both sides, for the entire block, with oak trees. The oaks have not completed the color change and as perhaps we all know, they will be the last to drop their leaves, possibly hanging on until mid-winter before they go bare.
I took a longish ride, intending originally to ride to the Cathedral but as I cruised down Summit it occurred to me that today is the actual Armistice Day as opposed to tomorrow's Veterans Day Observed. Yes, I am old enough to remember that when I was a child some of the older folks referred to the day as Armistice Day, a reference to its true significance as marking the end of World War I. The war to end all wars ended with a cease fire at the 11th minute after the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918. It was only after civilization managed to arrange for a second World War that the necessity came to recognize another group of veterans and therefore to change the name to Veterans Day.
Wikipedia reports that as of today there are 22 surviving veterans of WWI, including in the USA only three who had completed training and served in the Army before the Armistice. Of the other three, 106 year old Frank Woodruff Buckles of Charles Town, West Virginia, is the last US veteran to complete training and serve overseas. I am also old enough to remember when Albert Woolson, the last surviving American Civil War veteran, died (in 1956), and to remember that he was a resident of Minnesota at the time of his death.
I suspected there might be ceremonies at the veterans memorials on the State Capitol grounds and so I changed my destination to check on the ceremonies.
2 comments:
It looks like it was a gorgeous day where you live. SS
Lots of interesting stuff. I had no idea so many WWI vets were still around. And all, of course, over 100.
I have no memory of Albert Woolson, either. The last Civil War vet I knew of was G.L. Jones, who died in 1937, at 97. He was a pretty tough old coot, too. TT
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