“Uncle” Bill was never really an uncle. But the Peberdy boys (as my grandmother always called them, despite their retired statuses) were the closest thing my mother and her three fatherless sisters had to brothers. The boys next door. The boys they raced bicycles with. The boys they had to take dance classes with. The boys whose family shared their Thanksgiving table. And Uncle Bill could tell the best stories. Funny stories. Stories I can’t even share with you – to protect the innocent!
Though he survived his multiple tours in Vietnam, I’d like to think it’s still allowed to remember him this Memorial Day.
Arlington National Cemetery