John Kitsco

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Oh, the precious times of youth.  I remember one summer day after playing baseball with some friends that I commented to
our Dad - what a beautiful day this particular day had been. The
grass so green, the sky so blue, our garden growing so well
and why but why would it have to end, to change. And Dad telling
me as I suppose most Dads would - that things have to change and
they do.

I thought about Brian, who lost his Dad under a pile of dirt
working at an excavation site.  I thought about my friend Eddy
who lost his brother when a tractor on the farm toppled over,
I thought about a good friend of my brother who was driving
and perhaps going a little too fast around a curve and ending
up crashing his vehicle and pronounced dead at the scene. I
thought about friends of my brother who went swimming at a
popular swimming spot in a river, but they got caught in the
mud and never came up.  Tragic and  sad.  A local soldier
returns from overseas and perhaps a combination of stress
and marital problems or just something we don't know and is
found several miles upstream in the river. Why? Oh why are
these young and tender souls taken so young?  Perhaps we
are not meant to understand, but only to accept that life has a
road that is different for each individual and a plan that
has been in place. So we offer a prayer. We accept. We cry.
And we often wonder how it could have been different....