02 Jul 2004 Joe, the last time I saw you was at graduation from St. Rita Catholic School in June, 1965. I remember your smile, and how my heart beat extra fast whenever I saw you! You walked me part-way to school many mornings, even though it was "out of your way". I read the notice of your death in the local paper a few days before leaving for college, September of 1969. I was stunned, saddened, and a part of me died, too. I often wondered about you, and your death at such a young age. Then, in 1999, I had an opportunity to see the "Traveling Wall" here in Fort Lauderdale. My family was with me, my husband who had also served in Vietnam, and 2 of my 3 children. We found your name, and I could not stop crying . . . the tears just came and came. Although I am earthbody and you are spiritbody, we continue to walk together. I feel your presence each and every day. Joe, you are still loved, and are still mourned. From a friend, Irene Nowak Lathrop 21 Jul 2005 From the dawn of your birth To the sunset of your death I honor you. From the missions you completed To your duties left undone I honor you. From the seasons of your being Through the cycle of your life I honor you. From your time beyond the veil 'Til your earth entrance back again May the angels support you May my healing love reach you From this moment until the end of time. 10 Jan 2006 Happy Birthday, Joseph. Today you are 55 years old. The candle is lit, the prayers are said . . . Irene 26 Aug 2006 I wrote your name on a piece of paper, but by accident threw it away. I wrote your name on my hand, but washed it away. I wrote your name on the sand, but the waves whispered it away. I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay. Joe, my heart still aches. Irene From a friend, Irene Nowak Lathrop 818 NW 10th Avenue, Dania, Florida 33004 E-mail address is not available.

 

25 Sep 2004 Photos courtesy of Sharon Bragen 20 Oct 2004 Did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind? In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined? Although you died back in 1916 In that faithful heart, are you forever nineteen? Or are you a stranger, without even a name? Enclosed then forever, behind the glass frame In an old photograph; torn, battered and stained And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame. From "William McBride" aka "Green Fields of France" by Eric Bogle From a friend, Sharon Geisler Bragen sbragen@yahoo.com

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