Travel Tips

My brother, a good man.

Dedicated, giving, creative he assisted on the set up for the unveiling of the Viet Nam veterans memorial in DC. Insistant that we as a country needed to put in place support networks for the many that would come to this first official acknowledgement, this memorial for those lost and fallen.

He served in the Navy during the "conflict", "police action", during the War.

He saw first hand what this war (and the publics reaction to it ) did to those that served. He dedicated his work to his brother vets. Specializing in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder before that term was even coined, he was an amazing therapist. Much of his work was with the most seriously detached vets. Men that hid in the mountains of the north east, men that would not, could not be functioning members of society. Men that hid from society.
And on the day of the unveiling, he was there. He was there to hold a hand of a brother, to listen, to refer, to support these people in a way they had yet to be cared for. He cared deeply, and it was obvious.
He was awarded a Presidential Commendation for his work.
Over the years he missed family holidays so that he could be with the men that needed him. He missed vacations so he could rush to the aid of a vet in need.
Years later he died unexpectedly, quickly, sadly too soon.
We gathered together and planned his funeral. Inviting family, friends and anyone in the tiny rural community that wished to pay their respects. The day of the lakeside service, we could barely make our way down the street. The cars, motorcycles and walkers were clogging the little road. An unbelievable line of mourners strecthed around the side of the lake. You see he touched people. He touched lives in a way that doesn't often happen. To this day we have no earthly idea how many showed up, or from where they all came. Beside the family, friends and locals stood the Vets. So many of them, at least hundreds. One by one they came and hugged and cried for the brother they lost. They shared my pain in a most real way. By sharing it, they divided it, lessening the pain, increasing the love.

My brothers, good men.

William and Elizabeth had 8 children. Betty was the homemaker while Bill worked three jobs to support this loving family. He worked as a guard in the prison, a bus driver and a firefighter.
He taught his children respect of God (they were Catholic) country and their elders. He took the children out of the city for trips into the country as often as possible. His was a close knit family.
One morning on his way to work at the prison he spotted smoke pouring out of a house.He jumped out of his car and went to help. He called the fire department. Outside the townhouse there stood a women screaming "my babies, my children." Mr. Wilt went in the burning house and managed to bring out 4 children. The home was in full flame now. The mother sobbing, her youngest was still inside. They could hear the fire sirens off in the distance. There was not enough time. He went back in found the baby. The fire engines arrived and the firefighters began to train their hoses on the inferno. Mr. Wilt could be seen at the stoop about a story up. He was stumbling backwards,bent over. He went over the edge of the stairs. His body wrapped in a ball.
When they got to him they found the baby safely cradled in his arms. Protected from the fall by virtue of being wrapped in his body.
You see, he had a heart attack, knew he could not make it yet he still found the strength to throw himself out of the burning house to save the baby.
A hero not only to his family but to the city of Pittsburgh.

Betty, Bills wife held the family together through their grief. She managed to move them out of the city to her parents place in the mountains.
An old school chum came around to see that they were all safe. You see her chum, Fred was the Chief of police. He continued to check on them over the months. After a few years he asked her to marry him. A widow with 8 children (some of whom were older and no longer living at home) He was an amazing man. A few years later they had a celebration for Freds retirement from the police force. The last night he was scheduled for duty, a call came in over the radio. There was a drunk driver racing around the streets. He went in pursuit. The drunk was out of control heading for a big intersection, Fred tried to head him off. My husbands step-father was killed instantly. Bettys 2nd husband died a hero.
This family has served this country in the military service, as firefighters and on the police force. They have given much and asked little.
They are my Heros, so I give them Honor and Respect wherever and whenever I can.