A Memorial Day Note

My Granddad, Lonnie Robert Cahoon, was NOT killed in WWII but he was injured.  He was scheduled to leave Britain and land in France on June 6, 1944, but when his commander realized his group had not had the appropriate amphibious training they were delayed.  So his group landed 3 days later on June 8th.  He said it was still pretty bad.  My Granddad made it all the way to Germany.  During the Battle of the Bulge his artillery unit ran out of ammunition.  He and a few men took a Jeep across the enemy lines to retrieve more gunpowder.  He carried the sacks of gun powder on his head and loaded the Jeep they rode in on.  It wasn’t until things calmed down and he woke up one morning and couldn’t move.  After several operations he regained most of his mobility.  Fortunately my Granddad made it home but many did not.

Memorial Day was created to honor the Civil War dead.  Today we honor all that have served and died for our country.  Who knows what our country would look like without those brave men and women.  All of the RTA staff thanks you.

Memorial Day

1980ish Summer!!

I remember those last few days of school before summer vacation.  The anticipation was almost enough to give me butterflies in my stomach.

Do you remember?

  • It getting hot inside the schools because the A/C units evidently were not configured to handle 90 to 100 degree weather. (poor planning Kinston)
  • The new school shoes, Mom bought you in August, have holes in them “No you cant have new shoes you will just ruin them over summer”
  • Suffering through the last few tests of the IMPORTANT classes
  • Watching movies in Shop and Home Economics.  (what was the shop teacher REALLY up to)
  • The note passing going out of control.
  • Do you break up with your girl friend for the summer, because who knows what will happen over the summer and at 13 you cant afford to be tied down.

THEN IT HAPPENS, IT IS HERE, EUREKA!!!!!!!!!! HAPPY DAY, OH YEAH, HAPPY DAY!!

3 days later, YOU SAY IT, the words that you promised yourself that you would not have to deal with THIS summer . . . . I’M BORED.

Summer 1980The rest of the summer the above was me, in front of a TV with a game or the A-team.  Reciting those words, I’M BORED,  everyday to my Mom.  Sorry Mom.

Don’t be me.  Treat your kids to a summer filled with excitement and a break from reality.  Sign up today!