[Newspoetry] Remembering a Republican

[Wendy Edwards]

Robert E. Edwards (born 1913- died November 21, 2000)

Grandpa survived the Tornado of 1925, considered by some to be the disaster
from which Murphysboro never recovered.  It devastated the town, and there
was no federal aid to help rebuild anything.  There was no deposit insurance
either, when the Crash hit four years later.
He went to the University of Illinois and graduated with a degree in
chemistry.  When World War II ended the Great Depression, they placed him in
the Chemical Mortar unit, which was expected to serve as a backup to the
infantry.  Instead, that group saw such heavy combat that they had a 60%
casualty rate, though the survivors were heavily decorated.  Grandpa won a
Bronze Star for bravery and a Purple Heart for being wounded.  When he got
back, though, he wouldn't talk about what happened during the war until he
was in his eighties.  Since he'd been an officer, he'd felt responsible for
the men and felt bad about the ones he couldn't save.  At one point, the
ship he was on got mined, and he was stuck in freezing water for hours
trying to hold on to another soldier.  Finally, he lost sensation in his
limbs and couldn't keep it up.  When the rescuers finally came, they were
afraid that Grandpa could lose some of his limbs because of the cold.
Although he didn't, he carried the memory around for years.  After the war,
he could never go hunting, and Dad said although he was upset about it when
he was a kid, he finally understood why when he was older.

He spent the next forty years of his life running a hardware store in a
small town in Southern Illinois.  He was a lifelong member of the Methodist
Church and a strong Republican, but he was also very tolerant of people with
different views.  For example, one of his close friends was a local labor
leader.  When we saw some old mail from the Republican committee, like the
family picture of the Nixons, or the "leadership" photo of Newt and Bob
Dole, we started to laugh.

Grandma had a series of strokes starting in the early 1980's, which left
half her body paralyzed.  My grandparents loved each other very much, and he
took care of her until she died in 1987.  He also helped out other relatives
who were struggling and gave generously to nonprofits.  He was concerned
about not worrying the family, and made a living will specifying that he
didn't want extraordinary measures taken to prolong his life.  We expected
him to live for a while, though, even though he matter-of-factly pointed out
to his children that he'd "kick the bucket" one day.  Then my mother called
the day before Thanksgiving and told me that he'd unexpectedly died Tuesday
night.  

The wake was Friday night, and everyone who came told us how great Grandpa
had been.  Since he'd hated mournful-sounding hymns, they played cello music
at the funeral the next day.  There was an American flag draped over the
casket, and at the burial, they folded the flag and presented it to my aunt.
They also did the 21 gun salute and played Taps on the bugle.  I still have
one of the spent cartridges.  Although we were glad that he was able to live
independently until the end of his life, he will be missed forever.

Wendy Edwards