It has been said that the generation that went to war to make the world free for democracy was the greatest generation.  It went to a war in far off Europe and the South Pacific and fought shoulder to shoulder with allied forces to free the world from tyranny. I have to refute this slightly as it was the parents and grandparents of that generation that instilled the values and principles to their children and grandchildren that would be used to win a war, rebuild their defeated enemies in a manner that that would develop strong allies while at the same time building a nation that would become the most powerful and benevolent nation in the history of the world.

This week I had to say good bye to an icon of the community, a person that represented the “greatest generation” and a person that embraced life with a loving and kind nature while raising four children in a Christian environment in small town America.

I first met her long before I realized it.  That was almost sixty-five years ago.  She and my own mother were the same age.  When I entered the world as a nine pound twelve ounce screaming baby boy she visited my mother at Green Clinic in Ruston.  Everyone thought she was coming in to have her own baby boy that was to become my best friend and brother-in-law.  He would arrive a month later.

She was a nurse at the local health unit.  A graduate nurse that had to forgo her advanced education at a prestigious Ivy League School to do her part to win a world war.  Becoming a Navy Nurse was her mandate and I remember her picture looking ever so lovely wearing the Navy uniform.  It was a World War and the United States Navy that would lead to her finding a husband that would be the father of her four children.  He was from Marion, Louisiana and was a young dashing Marine officer.

Once when I fell out of my tree house landing on my head on the concrete patio she was called on to check me out after I finally woke up.  When I found my grandfather unable to speak or rise she was the one that came running to assist.  She was the Florence Nightingale of the neighborhood.

In addition to raising the children and holding down a full time job she was active in the community.  The book club would occasionally meet at her home as did a local bridge club.  Her mind was keen and she drove herself to get groceries into her nineties.  Eventually, much to her chagrin,  her son took her license away from her.  This still didn’t stop her from getting out and she would still be seen doing her own shopping.

Last year she celebrated her 100th birthday.  A gratifying event as the children and grandchildren came from all parts of the deep south to pay homage.  She sat there ever so beautiful, fully alert and enjoying the day.  She remained active and kept up with her bridge games and fellow players would show up at her house to play the card game.

All things must come to an end and eventually the life cycle closes.  Becky Post finally gave up the fight and went to be with her husband who passed away so many years ago.  She is now free of a body that had slowly degenerated to a point that she could not experience the life that she so loved.  To the end, her mind remained keen and true to her nature she remained in control of her family.

Good bye Becky, and thank you for what you did for our nation and our community.

I had planned to continue the series on oppressed American that graciously went to war for our nation.  This will resume next week as we look at the Japanese Americans during World War II and complete the series the following week with the Navaho and Pima Indians and their sacrifices also during World War II.

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