Sometimes it’s the little stuff and the little people who have the most impact. This morning, as usual, I was paging through some of our submissions and I came across a letter about celebration. The author was a St. Louis woman who was four years old when the war ended. In my experience most people, at best, can only remember snap shots of their lives at four but for this woman, that’s all it took to share something meaningful. She said she remembers the day the war ended: all of the kids in her neighborhood paraded up and down her street waving flags, celebrating.
 “The adults were smiling and waving, and hugging each other,” she said. “Of course I didn’t know what the hullabaloo was about. I just remember the happy, joyful faces and the excitement.”
 I’ve always felt that pure, true joy, happiness for happiness’ sake, is something that only a child knows, but we can all relate to it — having experienced it at one time in our lives. It’s quite comforting to me to know that even in the face of horrible tragedy, there was joy and eventual relief when it all came to an end.


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