My prayers and sympathy go to the family of Ethel Keith Ashford who recently passed away at the age of 102. I knew Ethel and her family well and remember that her first husband, James Keith, was the DeKalb County Sheriff many years ago. My son, Ralph, and her son, Randall, are friends and former classmates at DeKalb County High School.

When I hear about someone passing away, if I know them, I always think about friendships and times that we spent together. As I have gotten older, those memories seem to be more important. It reminds me to remember what is really important in a person’s life.

Monday, December 7th was a sentimental day for me. It would have been the 95th birthday for my late husband, J.D. Vaughn.

J.D. was born in a small log cabin in the Young Bend Community. His family, like almost everyone else, was farmers. When he was 19-years-old, he decided to try something else and enlisted in the CCC program and was assigned to Tullahoma. I remember his mother saying that Tullahoma seemed like a million miles away.

After a year in the CCC, J.D. enlisted in the United States Army, thinking that it would give him a chance to make a living. Little did he know that within a year the Japanese would bomb Pearl Harbor and our country would be at war. His two-year enlistment turned into almost six-years after he was shipped to the South Pacific serving in the Philippines, New Guinea and Australia.

There were no furloughs. His parents did not see him for the next five years. Miss Della told me that she would listen to the radio at night to learn about the war especially after his letters became fewer and fewer.

Then one day she and Mr. Floyd looked out the window and saw a man walking at a distance toward their home. Both of them began running as fast as they could to meet him.

She said Mr. Floyd ran ahead of her with both of them crying with every step. J.D. had gotten back home although frail and sick.

I am sure there were a lot of other families who had similar experiences. However, some never saw their loved ones alive back home. My brother, W.B. Cantrell, was wounded and my step-brother, Alton (Red) Ervin was killed.

Anyway, December 7th always makes me think about World War II and the sacrifices that were made by so many. I thank the Lord that we live in America with the freedoms we enjoy today.