The came the Laurence Binyon tribute, the fourth verse from his 1914 poem “For the Fallen”:“They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old...Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,We shall remember them.”We all joined in the refrain, “We will remember them.”Grandma Shaw dabbed one cheek with her hankie; I gently squeezed her hand, knowing that she was remembering the many times that she had stood here watching her husband in the. Those were long days during the summer. I managed to get a job at the nearby Methodist Church as a secretary. It was only part-time, but I saved every penny I could. When Hayden asked me to marry him, I asked, “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting since we graduated.”He said, “I didn’t want us to have to live in the basement at Mom and Dad’s.”“What changed?”He held out a piece of paper that looked like a contract of some sort, signed by him and his father. I didn’t get it at first. I’d. More

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