Today, 6 August would have been the 98th birthday of my beloved Dad, Marion Edward Spiller, who became my Father after the death of my 'real' Father. He was the only Father I knew from age nine. He has been gone now for over twenty years and I still miss him. I thought of him this afternoon, as I watched the Czech Days parade with its tractors. There was a Poppin' Johnny, Dad, a John Deere Model A, just like the one you taught me to drive.
And it would have been my Grandmother Weismiller's 142nd birthday. Born in Sweden in 1876, she came to Kansas at 11 in 1887. She survived my Grandfather by 57 years until the house burned down and killed her in 1973 when she was 97. I thought of you, too, Grandma, when I told the story of your love for Grandpa to a fellow I met watching the parade.
They are gone, but not forgotten. May they rest in peace. Memory Eternal!
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