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Martha W. Fagan
Number of posts: 4
Email address: email
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By Martha W. Fagan:
I went to a funeral last week. The funeral was for my husband’s uncle who died at 93 at the end of the long goodbye that is Alzheimer’s disease. The funeral was not sad as funerals go. John had lived a good, long, life. When, a year ago, he lost his wife of countless years he lost his hold on life in many respects. The funeral celebrated his life as a son of Jasper County, a husband, a churchman, a father and a friend. It also celebrated his life as a veteran of World War II — he fought as a navy crewman in the Battle of Guadalcanal. The emotional climax of the funeral was when they handed the American flag to John’s son while the old veteran off behind the crowd at the gravesite played taps.
As I sit down to write I am uncertain whether or not this article will ever make its way to LikeTheDew, although I think that my dilemma is similar to that faced by a lot of other folks in my generation. And — since my group is the front wave of the baby boom — it is something that a lot of folks are going to be experiencing over the next few years. I am lucky because, according to policies where I work, I can retire anytime now. I’ll keep health care — a biggie — of course paying a lot more than if I was working. I am lucky enough to…
Earlier this week, my friend Chrys and I gathered in my kitchen to repeat what has become our Christmas present to each other for more than thirty years. For one or two days each Christmas season, we get together to cook and bake, gossip and reminisce, complain about the state of the world, celebrate our successes and watch each other like a hawk as we double, triple and quadruple recipes that we have been making since I first moved to Atlanta in 1971. Right out of college where we had been friends, Chrys moved to Atlanta to become one of Delta’s pride of what where then called Stewardesses. After working for a year back home in Mobile, visiting several times in Atlanta with Chrys and dating a couple of brothers – mine having deployed to Cam Ranh Bay, in Vietnam — I came to Atlanta one vacation week, interviewed with […]
Patricia Collins Andretta Dwinnell Butler, who died last week at the age of 101, was born in 1907, during the administration of President Theodore Roosevelt. Horse and buggies were giving way to streetcars and automobiles, women were pressing for the vote in Europe, and a record number of immigrants poured into the United States. Born in New York, she was the daughter of parents who emigrated from Newfoundland. Butler’s father was a journalist who covered Marconi’s historic wireless transmission between Cornwall in England and Newfoundland. The couple moved to Atlanta when Pat was in her early teens and she attended Sacred Heart High School. The only child of a father who harbored an unrealized ambition to be an attorney and a mother who was, herself, a businesswoman, Butler was encouraged in her education, and in her father’s dream for her to attend law school and to prepare to be independent. […]