Since I was a little kid,I remember asking my mom to tell me about the olden days.
She would look at me kind funny,then tell me of the days of her youth,her parents and such thing like that.
My dad often told me of his olden days,when dad and my Uncle Bill were cowboys out on the great plain.
Dad had a scar on his belly which was in the shape of an arrow,Uncle Bill had an identical scar high on his forehead.
This of course led to stories of great Indian battles and somehow,wounded,they came out victorious. Amazing!
I still think about the olden days,I can look at pictures of Civil War veterans for hours,I try to see their eyes,there are stories there.I think of a lost Illinois soldier with no name on his photograph.I see his mom and dad and wonder if the home there was a happy one.
I see pictures bodies on a battlefield,now long forgotten,there is no trace,just a picture.These were real people,just like you and me.I wonder about them,did they know Jesus,did they go to Sunday School as kids?
Many times now in my life I have walked battlefields,as my brother Bud has.I think of the terror,the courage,the futility of wars.The idiocy of Generals prevails on these fields of honor.
So olden days stay with me,I hope they always will.