FLY AWAY, LITTLE BIRD

"Fly away, little bird, now fly away home.
Your time here is done - in the sky, you must roam.

Spread your wings and take flight. Above all the pain,
Looking down from on high, none can hurt you again.

Fly away, little bird, though your time here is passed,
For those who have loved you, your memory will last.

On this earth, little bird, you knew heartache and sorrow,
But now, in the sky, there's always tomorrow.

Look there, little bird, look at the clouds, how
They've come out to play. So won't you, right now?

Over there, little bird, there's a dog and a cat,
And a smiling young boy, with a ball and a bat.

Dance and play, little bird, in the sky, bright and fair,
For the things of this world, can't bother you, there.

Fly high, little bird, from there you will see,
That God really does love you - and, so do we.

Be at peace, little bird, and while you are gliding,
Know that one day, in Heaven, we'll all be abiding,

With our Lord - in whose arms - and seeing His face,
You now are at rest - in His Light and His Grace.

For you see, little bird, you've left this world early,
But, for the rest of us, here, the same journey

Awaits. And we'll all, someday, take it,
Cross that Divide, in hope that we make it,

To that very same place, where the Bible has said,
'Where, Oh Death, is your victory, Oh where is your sting?'

For on that day, little bird, we'll join our voices and sing,
To the sound of the Trumpet. First, the Dead will arise,

With the voice of the Archangel, they'll take to the skies.
Then those who are left, we'll all join together,

With Jesus, our Lord. With Jesus, our Savior.
And know this, little bird, on that Glorious Day,

In His mercy - these tears - God SHALL wipe away.
So fly away, little bird, fly. Fly away,

Once Eternity's here, together, we'll stay."

Rest in Peace, Marcus.

M.G.E.

(September 8th, 1983 - August 23rd, 2008)

Memorial Day - 2008: Are We Squandering Their Sacrifice?

"Happy Bloody Christmas!" he said to his comrades, as he dropped the firewood next to the hut.

It was indeed.

Behind him in the snow, Private Jedediah Smith of the Continental Army had left bloody footprints, his bare feet wrapped in filthy rags. Staggering over to the small fire, he sat on the ground - his legs straight out, feet to the flames.

It had been nearly three months since he had owned a pair of shoes. Now, in the bitter cold and snow of Valley Forge, shoes were not the only thing the young soldier and his comrades lacked.

They were low on everything, including food and ammunition. Desertion was on the rise. Just the day before, three men had stood before a firing squad, shot as an example to the rest of the army.

As he rubbed his feet, trying to restore the circulation, Smith had a thought. "Maybe those buggers they shot are the fortunate one's, eh?"

"Aww, shut up, will you? Here, have some firecake."

One of his hut-mates threw the piece of hard "bread" in Smith's direction. He tried to eat the lump of flour and water, but gave up, and threw it in the fire instead.

"No thanks, I'd rather be hungry."

Private Smith was not alone in his misery.

By the time they had moved into their winter quarters along the Schuylkill River, half of General Washington's army was barefoot. Most lacked proper winter coats. Diseases like typhus, dysentery, and pneumonia threatened to kill those that didn't starve.

Out of a total force of 12,000 men, on any given day nearly 4,000 were listed as "Unfit for Duty." But in spite of the hunger, disease, and general privation suffered by those first American soldiers, the winter of 1777-1778 would prove to be the turning point of the American Revolution.

As they left their bloody tracks in the snow, Baron Friedrich Von Steuben, the Prussian officer who had served on the staff of Frederick the Great, whipped the rag-tag army into shape. By the following summer, they were pursuing the British into New York.

The training and discipline soldiers like "Private Smith" received that terrible winter, turned a bunch of farmers into a fighting force that, a short five years later, would defeat the most powerful army in the world.

"Naked and starving as they are, We cannot enough admire, The incomparable Patience and Fidelity of the Soldiery. - George Washington.

Four score and six years later, at a small, Pennsylvania crossroads town less than 100 miles away, two large armies would be locked in an epic battle. That battle would prove to be the turning point in another war. When the slaughter ended three days later, over 50,000 men had become casualties. Of these, neary 8,000 were dead.

The previous Fall, near a place in Maryland called Antietam Creek, America would be sad witness to the bloodiest single day in its history. Before the carnage ended that terrible day, 22,720 Americans would lay on the crimson battlefield - wounded or dying.

At places that became known to History as Miller's Cornfield, Dunker Church, and the Sunken Road, nearly 4,000 Americans died the 17th day of September, 1862.

Though he spoke the words for the men who had fallen at Gettysburg, they most assuredly would apply to all those others who fell, during those four bloody years in our nation's history:

"...The world will little note...what we say here...but it can never forget what they did here...that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion...we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain...that this nation, under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

-Abraham Lincoln

Throughout our history, in times of peace and times of war, young men and women have sacrificed their lives, in the service of Freedom. From the Revolution to the Civil War. From the battlefields of France - in two separate wars - to the islands of the Pacific. From the frozen fields of Korea, to the sweltering jungles of Vietnam, the mountains of Afghanistan, the desert sands of Iraq, the blood of America's youth has been shed, so that we could enjoy the blessings of liberty.

As we celebrate Memorial Day 2008, The Flying Curmudgeon wonders if we are honoring that sacrifice, and preserving the legacy so many have died to bequeath us.

"No Taxation without Representation!"

What would those who died at Lexington and Concord, Bunker Hill and Yorktown think of the profligate spending of an out-of-control Congress, some 230 years later?

Staring into cannon loaded with grape-shot, as they marched across the killing fields of Gettysburg and Antietam, at Shiloh and Spotsylvania Courthouse, what would those who, mere moments later, would literally be blasted into Eternity, think of the corruption of 21st century elected representatives?

Would they believe in term limits?

The Statler Brothers had a hit, thirty or forty years ago, called Whatever Happened to Randolph Scott?

Though he would go down in history as one of the legendary defenders of the Alamo, before his date with Destiny, Davy Crockett had served as a U.S. congressman from his home state of Tennessee. From 1827-1833, Crockett championed the rights of ordinary people, and throughout his abbreviated career, would be known as a political reformer.

Upon his defeat in 1833, he famously said:

I told the people of my district that I would serve them as faithfully as I had done; but if not...Since you have chosen to elect a man with a timber toe to succeed me, you may all go to Hell, I will go to Texas.

And so he went.

Maybe Rush Limbaugh's resident musical parodyist, Paul Shanklin, could come up with the song:

"Whatever happened to Davy Crockett...?"

As we reflect on the tens of thousands who have died to secure and sustain liberty over the last 232 years, as Americans we owe it to all of our honored dead, not to squander the legacy of freedom that they bought - at such a terrible price.

In honor of our fallen heroes, during this election year, The Flying Curmudgeon asks all Americans to remember those who have sacrificed so much, and not let their deaths have been in vain.

Let's not sacrifice freedom for a false sense of security. We need to rein in the entitlements and the earmarks.

Let's take back Washington, and return it where it belongs - to the people.

It's time to push for balanced budget legislation again.

Let's end the tyranny of political careerism. As unlikely as they might seem with the current Washington status quo, we need to keep pushing for term limits. Let every representative serve for six years, then go home. Senators could serve for ten.

Every tax-paying American needs to get behind the Fair Tax. Its time to take the purse strings away from the congressmen and their pals on "K" Street.

It's the least we can do for our dead....

and for our children.

God Bless America!

TFC

Operation Chaos: That's Entertainment

For as long as Rush Limbaugh's radio program has been nationally syndicated - this August will be twenty years - his many detractor's on the Left have tried to dismiss him as simply an "entertainer."

He is certainly that...but to his loyal listeners, he's so much more.

Speaking as a loyal "Ditto-head," The Flying Curmudgeon, along with million's of Rush's other regular listeners, has enjoyed countless hours of cutting-edge political humor, as well as some of the most original satire available on talk radio. (For an earlier discussion of this topic on TheFlyingCurmudgeon, see "Bill Clinton MADE Rush? PUUUHHLEEEEEZ!!!!" posted on December 29, 2007.)

A regular part of Rush's show, Paul Shanklin has produced some of the most hilarious musical parodies ever produced. Check out all his CD's at http://www.paulshanklin.com/.

Yes, Rush Limbaugh has kept his millions of loyal fans - and if they were honest enough to admit, many of the "loyal opposition," as well - laughing for years. He is, quite simply, one of the most original and consistently funny "entertainers" that has come along in decades.

However, to dismiss him in such a facile manner indicates a complete misunderstanding of who Rush is, and what his show is all about. Case in point - the tremendous success of Rush's recent, self-proclaimed "Operation Chaos."

As the "Wunderkind," Barack Hussein Obama, appeared to be running away with the Democratic nomination earlier this year, Rush decided it would be beneficial, and only fair, if the Democrats got a taste of their own medicine; namely, as so many Democrats had done in many of the Republican primaries, Rush encouraged Republican voters, in key Democratic primaries, (wherever it was legal under local election law), to come out and "pull the lever" for Hillary, thereby keeping her in the race.

If they could stomach doing so, that is.

Apparently, quite a few Republicans were able to "take one for the team," as it were, because Hillary's primary wins, earlier in Texas, and most recently, in Indiana, have been attributed to this "crossing over." A number of prominent Democrats, among them, Sen. Obama himself, now acknowledge the impact Rush is having on the current primary process. http://www.rushlimbaugh.com/home/daily/site_050708/content/01125106.guest.html

Thanks to the efforts of El Rushbo, and the millions of self-less Republicans who crossed over and "pulled the lever" for Mrs. Clinton, it looks like the Democratic primary race will not be decided until the Convention.

Now That's Entertainment!


TFC

RIP Charlton Heston (Oct. 4, 1923 - Apr. 5, 2008)

Charlton Heston is dead.

The Oscar winning actor succumbed to the ravages of Alzheimer's disease, having announced he had contracted the debilitating illness in 2002.

His death follows the deaths in March of actor Paul Scofield (the 19th), and of Richard Widmark (the 24th), completing the most recent "Celebrity Death Trinity." (As in "Celebrities Always Die in Threes.")

In addition to his Academy Award-winning performance in Ben Hur, Heston also gave Oscar-caliber performances as Moses in The Ten Commandments, and as Col. George Taylor in Planet of the Apes. He was the original I Am Legend character in the classic The Omega Man.
One of the first Hollywood heavyweights to come out in support of Civil Rights, he was later vilified by the Political Left for his support of the Second Amendment and the National Rifle Association.

After hearing Heston had contracted Alzheimer's, George Clooney famously, if not callously said Heston "...deserved whatever was said about him for his involvement with the NRA..." When asked to respond, Heston merely said he felt sorry for Clooney, noting that he (Clooney) was just as susceptible to Alzheimer's as anyone else.

Like President Ronald Reagan before him, Heston had been head of the Screen Actors Guild, and wasn't afraid to speak out in support of his Conservative principles. In a speech at Harvard Law School in 1997, about Political Correctness he stated, "If Americans believed in political correctness, we'd still be King George's boys - subjects bound to the British Crown." He went on to say, "Political Correctness is tyranny with manners."

Heston was one of the last of a dying breed - one of the greats from the Golden Age of Hollywood. He will be missed.

Charlton Heston - dead at 84.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Heston.

TFC

They Beat Horses, Don't They?

Now that ROOT BEER 203 - A Fighter Pilot's Story has been cast to the winds of the World Wide Web, it's time to go Back to the Future, er, back to the present, and deal with one of the pressing issues of our day.

Namely, who is going to be the next President of the United States.

As the saga of the Democratic primary has continued, as mentioned in an earlier post, it has been rather amusing to watch members of the Drive-by Media feign surprise and shock, and HARUUMPH! about the possibility that the junior senator from the Empire State might be less than forthcoming with the truth.

With apologies to Claude Rains, (RIP), in the (slightly altered) words of Capt (Wolf Blitzer) Renault: I'm shocked, shocked to find that Hillary is a liar. (Average, tax-paying American) Croupier: Hey, aren't those my winnings (taxes) she's got there?

PUUUUHHLLEEEEEZ!

The Flying Curmudgeon has to admit, however, as a long-time observer of the Clintons, even he was surprised by the lengths to which Ms. Rodham-Clinton went to conjure up the Tuzla "Sniper Incident."

Is it possible she has reached a new low?

Not according to Dan Calabrese of the NorthStar Writer's Group. http://www.northstarwriters.com/dc163.htm

In keeping with TFC's theme today, here's a blast from the past.

Enjoy.

TFC

Agents/Film Producers - Looking for Your Next Project?

Calling all film producers and interested agents...

After posting Parts 1 and 2 of ROOT BEER 203 - A Fighter Pilot's Story, (which equate to the first 24 pages of the screenplay in Final Draft format), The Flying Curmudgeon will now trust that if the film is supposed to be made, these two excerpts will be enough to spark interest in some studio exec/independent film producer, or agent out there in "The Ether," who is looking for his or her next project.

If anyone is interested, leave a comment on this post with your contact information, and The Flying Curmudgeon will have his people get in touch with your people. (As all comments are moderated before being posted, The Flying Curmudgeon promises not to make public any contact information posted in the comments section.)

TFC

ROOT BEER 203 - A Fighter Pilot's Story (Part 2)

CUT TO:

INT. ROOT BEER 203

TEX
I'm sorry, Honey. I love you. Take care of the kids.

He starts to laugh at the irony of his predicament.

TEX (CONT'D)
At least I won't have to swim...

The SONG begins to FADE AWAY as the scene ends.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. RURAL EAST TEXAS SUMMER 1938 - DAY

A typical scene from DEPRESSION-ERA EAST TEXAS. At the end of a long, dirt road sits a small, tin-roofed farm house. Surrounding the house are a few acres of farmland - mostly corn, YELLOWISH-GREEN, THIRSTY FOR RAIN.

The words "EAST TEXAS, SUMMER 1938" appear, then disappear from the screen. Around back sits a hog-pen. Several hogs and pigs try to escape the sweltering heat by burying themselves in the mud. A few chickens scratch in the dirt. A cow grazes nearby.

At the front of the house, TWO LITTLE BLONDE-HAIRED BOYS sit on the edge of the porch, their legs dangling in the air. They are dressed like little boys in rural, 1938 East Texas would be dressed: faded, dirty overalls in bare feet.

Obviously brothers, the OLDER BOY has something in his hands. It appears to be a knife and a piece of wood that he is "whittling." His hair and clothes look wet, his face like he has been crying.

YOUNGER BOY
You gonna tell Daddy what happened?

OLDER BOY
(whispering urgently)
Shhhhhhh! Granddaddy said it was a secret.

ANGLE down the dirt road. A TALL MAN approaches. As he comes closer, we can see his face. The expression says it all - he is bone-tired. On his left arm, he wears an enormous bandage.

Upon seeing the man, both boys jump off the porch and run to greet him, the older one carrying the knife and wood.

OLDER BOY (CONT'D)
(getting a head start)
There's Daddy. I'll race you, BOBBY JOE.

BOBBY JOE
No fair! You jumped up before I was ready.
Daa-aa-dy, ORVILLE GENE cheated again!

As they run up and hug him, the Tall Man smiles down on the two boys.

TALL MAN
Now, now, boys. Let's have none of that.
Your ole' Dad is mighty tired, I just want to
rest a bit. Orville Gene, how did you get so wet?

BOBBY JOE
Daddy, these older...

Orville Gene cuts him off.

ORVILLE GENE
(uneasily)
Uhhh..... Bobby and I were playing near.... the....
the swimming hole and.......I.....and I fell in.

TALL MAN
I've told you about going near that swimming hole,
boy.

The Tall Man walks towards the porch, his sons clinging to him as he walks.

TALL MAN (CONT'D)
(sighing)
I guess it's about time I taught you two how to swim.

He steps up on the porch and as he sits down in a rocking chair, he notices the knife.

TALL MAN (CONT'D)
Son, what have I told you about running with that knife?

ORVILLE GENE
Sorry, Daddy. What happened to your arm?

TALL MAN
Oh, I got a little scratch at work today. Whatcha got there?

Orville Gene holds up the piece of wood.

ORVILLE GENE
I'm making an airplane, Daddy? Do you like it?
I'm gonna be a pilot some day.

TALL MAN
That's mighty fine, son. I'm sure you will. Now,
where's your Mamma?

At this, an ATTRACTIVE YOUNG WOMAN woman steps out of the house through the screen door onto the porch.

YOUNG WOMAN
Now, that depends. Just who is it that wants to
know? We get a lot of strangers around these parts,
ya' know.

She sits down in the Tall Man's lap with a giggle, until she sees the bandage.

YOUNG WOMAN (CONT'D)
Dear God, TILLMAN! What happened?

TILLMAN
Oh, it's nothing. One of the towers we was taking
down today fell and cut my thumb. The doctor said
it was nothing to worry about.

YOUNG WOMAN
Doctor? What doctor? You're not talking about that
ole German Quack, are you?

TILLMAN
Now, LORENE. That's not very nice, DR. HOFFMAN
ain't no Quack. He said everything would be fine.

Not wanting to think about his hand, Tillman stands up and goes into the house. An extremely strong man, the only hint we get of the excruciating pain he is in is a slight wince that appears on his face as he gets up.

TILLMAN (O.S.) (CONT'D)
I'm starved. What's for supper? Oh, hi, MAMMA.
Hi, DADDY.

Lorene and the boys stand up and follow Tillman into the house.

CUT TO:

INT. FAMILY ROOM AND KITCHEN OF FARM HOUSE

Sparsely decorated, there is a beat-up Victrola in the corner of the family room. JIMMIE ROGERS can be heard coming from the speaker. Through the screen door, we see an OLDER WOMAN, Tillman's Mother, standing at a stove. An OLDER MAN stands in the kitchen. Tillman goes over and gives his mother a kiss on the cheek. They all sit down at the table and bow their heads for prayer.

CUT TO:

INT. TILLMAN'S BEDROOM WEEKS LATER - EVENING

Tillman lies, unconscious, in a bed surrounded by his wife, mother, father, and a couple of his brothers, VON and ELLIS. His fever-wracked body is drenched in sweat. A SOFT SOUND can be HEARD, like the FAINT BUZZING OF A SAW. Indistinct at first, in a moment the source is readily apparent - they are the SOUNDS OF SUFFERING, and they are constant. He is obviously dying. A DOCTOR gets up from the edge of the bed and closes his medical kit.

LORENE
Well, DR. ANDERSON?

DR. ANDERSON
I'm sorry, Mrs. Elliott. There is nothing more I
can do for him. The infection has spread too far.

LORENE
No! Dear God, No! He can't die!

Lorene collapses in a wave of tears and sobbing and is led from the room by Ellis. He takes her out to the porch where Orville Gene and Bobby Joe are waiting with their baby brother, JIMMY.

Dr. ANDERSON
(turning at the door to look at Tillman
once more)
If only Dr. Hoffman had removed his thumb,
he might have lived.

CUT TO:

EXT. FRONT PORCH OF FARMHOUSE

Lorene sits, inconsolable, on the edge of the porch. In her lap is Jimmy, just a few months old. Orville Gene and Bobby Joe sit next to her, trying to comfort her. In her face is the look of a woman who has just lost her whole world.

LORENE
(sobbing)
What are we going to do?

ORVILLE GENE
(through tears of his own)
It's okay, Mamma. I'll be the man of the house, now.

Orville Gene reaches out to hug his mother.

Lorene turns to look at her oldest son. She takes his little face in her hands and looks into his eyes. She smiles - a sad smile, just the same.

LORENE
You will, won't you son?

The boys hug their mother. ANGLE UP up from the scene on the porch, a FULL MOON rises at the end of the road.

FADE TO:

INT. ROADSIDE DINER KERMIT, TEXAS 1939 - MIDDAY

A hectic scene in the kitchen and counter area of a "greasy spoon" in a small, West Texas oil town.

The words "KERMIT, TEXAS 1939" appear, then disappear from the screen.

A young woman, her simple dress draped with an apron, is behind the counter, busily serving the hungry, sometimes ill-mannered CROWD OF oil-spattered MEN. One of the men tries to pinch her on the bottom. She quickly slaps his hand away, smiling uncomfortably. We finally see her face. It's Lorene.

CUT TO:

INSERT OF WALL CLOCK - it reads 12:20.

CUT TO:

SHOT OF LORENE GLANCING AT CLOCK

LORENE
(to herself)
You're late, MR. WILSON.

CUT TO:

INT. SHOT OF DINER ENTRANCE

A SMALLER-THAN-AVERAGE MAN walks in the door. Unlike the other men in the diner, his uniform is clean and he is clean shaven. His coveralls show his employer's logo: MAGNOLIA OIL COMPANY. On one side we see stenciled his name: BILL WILSON. On the other the words: CREW CHIEF. His bearing belies his stature - he is obviously not one to be trifled with.

LORENE
(pouring him some coffee)
Well, Mr. Wilson, nice of you to join us. I was
beginning to think you weren't coming today.

BILL
(sitting down on a stool)
Please, Lorene, call me BILL. You can say, Bill,
can't you?

Bill sits near the end of the counter, near a large radio in the far corner. He turns up the volume, as a MAN'S VOICE can be HEARD finishing a local news report. The announcer introduces a song and we HEAR BOB WILLS AND THE TEXAS PLAYBOYS.

CUT TO:

ANOTHER ANGLE OF LORENE AND BILL AT COUNTER

Lorene notices a book in his hands.

LORENE
(putting a playful emphasis on his name)
All right, "Bill." What are we reading today, "Bill?"

BILL
"Riders of the Purple Sage," by ZANE GREY. You
should read him some time.

LORENE
(smiling)
Maybe I will. You're not the garden variety "roughneck,"
are you, Mr. Wilson?

BILL
I try to be different, Mrs. Elliott.

LORENE
Now it's my turn. Please call me Lorene. Why so
late today?

BILL
(feigning irritation)
Well, Lorene, if you must know, we had some trouble
with a well we're digging. Had a pipe collapse at the
500-foot level. We had to pull all that pipe out of the
ground and start over.

LORENE
My, how that DOES sound exciting!

CUT TO:

INT. SHOT OF DINER ENTRANCE

An OLDER WOMAN walks in with Orville Gene and Bobby Joe. She is carrying Jimmy.

LORENE
Hi, Mamma. Come on in and have a seat. Hi,
boys. How're you doin' today?

ORVILLE GENE
Hi, Mamma. We're just fine. GRANMA' is taking
us to the drugstore for a soda.

The boys hop up on the stools on either side of Bill. Lorene's mother chooses to stand.

LORENE
(motioning towards BILL)
Mamma, I want you to meet Mr. Bill Wilson.

BILL
(rising from his stool)
How'do, Ma'am?

CUT TO:

SHOT OF LORENE'S MOTHER LOOKING DISDAINFULLY AT BILL

LORENE's MOTHER
(icily)
You can keep your seat. I'm fine, thank you.

CUT TO:

SHOT OF BILL, LORENE, AND TWO BOYS AT THE COUNTER

BILL
Are these your boys, Lorene?

LORENE
They are. The oldest one is Orville Gene, the
middle one's Bobby Joe. The baby is Jimmy.
Say hello to Mr. Wilson, boys.

BILL
Please, call me Bill.

LORENE
It's Mr. Wilson, to you two.

ORVILLE GENE AND BOBBY JOE
(together)
Hi, Mr. Wilson.

BILL
Such fine boys. Their Daddy must be real proud
of them.

LORENE'S MOTHER (O.S.)
(flatly)
Their Daddy is dead.

LORENE
(with an exasperated tone)
Mother! Please!

BILL
I'm sorry. I didn't know.

LORENE
It's all right. He got sick last year and died back
in East Texas. After the funeral, I came back to
Kermit and moved in with Mamma and Daddy.
(leaning forward whispering, so only Bill can hear)
And don't mind Mamma. She's just suspicious of
"strange" men.

BILL
(whispering back to Lorene)
As she should be.

CUT TO:

SHOT OF LORENE'S MOTHER

Lorene's mother motions to the boys to follow.

LORENE'S MOTHER
All right, you boys. Let's get along, now. I've got
things to do.

Orville Gene and Bobby Joe hop down off their stools and begin to follow their grandmother.

As he is passing Mr. Wilson, Bobby Joe stops and looks up at him.

BOBBY JOE
Are YOU gonna be our new Daddy?

Taken aback by the child's forwardness, Bill is unsure what to say. With a sheepish grin, he turns towards Lorene across the counter.

BILL
Well, now, that would depend on your Mamma,
wouldn't it?

CUT TO:

INT. SMALL CHURCH KERMIT 1940 - AFTERNOON

A couple stand at the front of the church, in front of a PREACHER. They are dressed simply - he in an ill-fitting suit, she in a dress off a rack from the local department store.

It's Lorene and Bill on their wedding day. The boys stand in line to Bill's right, Lorene's SISTERS to her left.

Lorene's MOTHER and FATHER sit in the first pew on the left, her mother dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief.

PREACHER
I now pronounce you Man and Wife. You may
kiss the bride.

Bill leans forward awkwardly and gives Lorene a quick peck on the lips. From his expression we can tell - it is the happiest day of his life.

FADE TO:

INT. WILSON HOME DECEMBER 8th 1941 - EVENING

...to be continued.