A Memory
HE other day I-had occasion to revisit our little local school after an absence of some years. While waiting for the children to come out I wandered round the grounds. I remembered well the laying out of the flower-beds, and the planting of the trees and shrubs-all done in the old days by "working bees." I was one of the younger mothers in those days, . and we were all very enthuiastic. How everything had grown! I halted before a large king punga, and a flood of memories rushed over me. " How well I remembered the planti of it! It was planted in memory. of the first lad from this district to fall in the Great War: How eagerly that first little band of volunteers had rushed off on their first great adventure, one or two of them even adding a. year or two to their ages for fear the war would be over too, soon for them and they would miss all the fun! We were getting ready to go to @ dance in. the school when the wire eame. Of course it was postponed, and some of us felt we could never dance again. We were shocked and stunned, and for the first time the reality of war was brought home to us, One of our bright boys would never come back-and what of the others? Later, we held a "parents’ day" at the school and planted. this punga, and hung a photo of our friend in the school. . .. The scholars came trooping out, then the teacher followed. He was’ a stranger to me, and among the ars was not one face I knew. After stating my errand, I took occasion to remark on how the king punga had flourished and found it had no special significance to him. He knew nothing. of its history, and was very interested. No doubt all the scholars were equally ignorant. Truly a new generation had arisen. It could scarcely be said they had forgotten, but, rather, that they never knew. "There was a photo in the school," I said. We went inside. There he was, just as I had seen him last, in his uniform, looking very straight and proud, yet with inquiring eyes rather wistful mouth. No doubt he was just beginning to wonder what life held in store for him, but he had been cut off by death before he had tasted life. At the time this photo was hung my own little boy had been in the primers,
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19300502.2.53.5
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Radio Record, Volume III, Issue 42, 2 May 1930, Page 24
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503A Memory Radio Record, Volume III, Issue 42, 2 May 1930, Page 24
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