WHO WILL REMEMBER?
WHO WILL REMEMBER? Cherish the Storytellers When the giggles and whispers of the teen-age girls at the spring house with their milk jars become but an echo and rhapsody of fable… Who will remember? When the grave of a grandfather without a marker--- save for the stone gathered from the oak and hickory clad hill--- is covered by the humus of the decomposing garment of summer majesty… Who will remember? When the loving hands of a father fashioning a marker of concrete in the shadows of a barn for the tiny corpse of his infant son-- are stilled, and the tears but ancient vapor in the winter mists… Who will remember? When backward glances from wagons and ancient truck windows say goodbye to land owned since Delaware and Shawnee Indians were neighbors and elk and bear denizens of the deep forests; fathers and mothers and children and blood kin by the hundreds, original pioneers of the land, buried in the rocky hillsides… Who will remember? When the old swimming holes in Ot