The Progress Review

07/25/2024

Readers of The Progress Review may recall the "Fostered on the Farm" series we ran in 2020. Written by Nick Holman, the series recalled several events and milestones from the 1950s and 1960s experienced by Nick growing up as a foster child just outside La Porte City. As promised, Nick has compiled the vignettes, along with many, many others into a phenomenal book, entitled Fostered on the Farm: An Extraordinary Journey in the Company of Hope, Inspiration and Serendipity.

On Saturday, August 3rd at 11 AM, Nick will be appearing at Hawkins Memorial Library where you can meet him (or rekindle an old friendship) and get a copy of the book signed- an event you won't want to miss. This week, in anticipation of his visit, we recall a story certain to resonate with Iowa farmers. It's a great example of what Fostered on the Farm offers readers- a combination of master storytelling, humor and a life lesson that illustrates how life on a farm can occasionally humble you.

The Wheels Go ‘Round and ‘Round
By Nick Holman

It’s late fall and I’m driving a tractor through the corn field, pulling a load of corn. Earlier, Dad had picked the load, dropped the wagon and started picking the next load, while I hitched the full load to my tractor to haul back to the farmstead and unload. Snow is expected in the next couple days, so we’re anxious to get the corn crop out of the fields.

It’s early evening and I’m fidgeting around for the head light switch. We recently purchased a new John Deere Model 4010 and I’m not yet completely familiar with all the gadgets on the instrument panel. I finally find the switch and flip on the lights, continuing on down the field, straddling a row of already picked corn.

We endured a substantial amount of rain the previous week and parts of the field are still wet. I’d normally be weighed down with concern about getting stuck pulling a heavy load of corn, but I’m brimming with confidence driving the 4010. It’s the newest and most powerful row crop tractor John Deere makes, with about fifty percent more horsepower than any other Deere tractor available. I’m sure there’s nowhere that tractor can’t go.

Truth be known, I’m not only unconcerned about getting stuck, I’m anxious to find some mucky stuff that can challenge the strong metal steed I’m riding. I’m relishing the skirmish. The tractor, wagon and I go through a couple of wet sections that slightly test the beast, but I’m not satisfied with those challenges.

The next wet spot I happen upon, I stop right in the middle. For those unfamiliar with some of the tricks to use when getting bogged down in snow, mud or whatever, one of the principles is to keep moving, and your momentum will help you get through. Do not slow or stop, lest you lose your momentum.

Not only do I stop, I want to present an even greater challenge for the 4010. I decide to purposely “pop” the clutch, that’s releasing it quickly, when starting to move forward. That has the effect of making the wheels go faster than the rest of the tractor, spinning the tires. I’m aware of what I’m doing. I have great confidence that I, the tractor and the load of corn will, with little struggle, be heading on down the field unabated.

Sadly, I’m ignorant to another important physics principle. To increase friction, and hence traction, one needs to have more of one surface, i.e., the wheel of the tractor, in contact with the other surface, the ground. My new, powerful, bad-ass 4010 doesn’t have four-wheel drive, and its rear wheels are only slightly wider than other tractors. Unrecognized by me, it can garner little more traction than any other run-of-the-mill tractor. As I pop the clutch, expecting instant forward acceleration, I instead feel downward movement.

The sinking sensation of the tractor is replicated with the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The tractor has quickly dug holes with its rear wheels and is resting helplessly on its frame. I immediately know there’s no chance of driving out of this. My boisterous, brash arrogance is buried in the mud with the 4010.

I hike back over to where Dad is and explain the situation. Well, I don’t exactly explain the whole situation, just the part about the tractor getting stuck in a wet part of the field. No need to bother him with the details of the 4010 not living up to my foolhardy expectations.

Having almost gotten stuck with the picker a couple times himself today, my abbreviated description doesn’t arouse suspicion with Dad. He sends me back to the farmstead to get the other tractor and meets me at the scene of my ill-conceived lark. We hook a log chain onto the 4010 to try dragging it out, and almost get the rescue tractor stuck. Dad shakes his head in resignation. The 4010 and load of corn are going nowhere. Ultimately, they sit out in the field for several more weeks, feeling the cold of winter close in around them. Once the ground freezes solid, the rescue efforts of another tractor are enough to help the 4010 free itself, and the load of corn is pulled out shortly thereafter.

It’s an embarrassing incident, but a good teaching moment. It’s one that proves useful in future situations where poor traction conditions temper my unbridled arrogance.

07/17/2024

Today's post recalls one of my favorite episodes written by Nick Holman as an installment in a 15-part series we ran in The Progress Review in 2020. Appropriately titled "Grapes of Wrath," you can find this gem in Nick's new book, Fostered on the Farm: An Extraordinary Journey in the Company of Hope, Inspiration and Serendipity, along with dozens of other compelling tales about his growing up in a La Porte City foster home in the 1950s and 1960s. I hope you'll join Nick on August 3rd at 11 AM at Hawkins Memorial Library, where he'll be sharing more about his book and signing copies for those interested in getting a copy. It's a truly remarkable book, one that lives up to the title. Please note: While this post is a little long, you'll definitely want to hang around for the revelation at the end!
-MW

Grapes of Wrath
By Nick Holman

It’s three o’clock in the afternoon in late summer. I’m clinging to a high limb in an elm tree in the north timber, surrounded by grape vines. They’ve almost taken over the tree, with more grape leaves showing than elm. At the bottom of the tree the vines are fatter than my wrist, but where I am, fifty feet up, the vines are only finger thick. I’m hunting for clumps of ripe wild grapes, my eyes going from branch to branch. From the ground I’d spotted quite a few, so I know they are up here. It’s just a matter of searching them out.

Late August and into September is when wild grapes in northeast Iowa are at their best, ripe and plump. Any later and the birds will clean them out, so it’s now or never. Each clump I find I rip from the vine and drop in the pail that is attached to my waist with baling twine. A squirrel a couple trees over is barking loudly at me, trying to tell me to get the hell out of his domain. I ignore the chattering squirrel. The pail’s only half full and I need a full pail for my ambitious plan. I climb higher looking for more of the coveted dark purple grape clumps. So, what do I have in mind that’s motivating me to scramble up high into trees, risking life and limb, looking for grapes?

Though a lot of the guys on The Farm smoke, almost no one drinks alcohol. The primary reason is that it’s not available like ci******es. It’s quite easy to get an adult to buy a pack of ci******es for a minor, and when they do, we slip it in our pocket and bring it back to The Farm. It’s more difficult finding an adult to buy a six pack of beer for a minor, and even if they will, it isn’t possible to get it back to The Farm because of the bulk. The small size of a pint of liquor might allow it to be sneaked back to The Farm but, finding an adult who’ll buy hard liquor for a minor is almost impossible in the small town of La Porte City.

My solution is to make my own alcohol, and that will be wine. Why wine? My limited contact with beer convinced me I don’t like it. I surely don’t have the equipment to make hard alcohol. So, I’m going with wine, even though I’ve never had a sip in my life. One of the older boys has instructed me on the basics of wine making, as he knows them: mash grapes with water, strain out the pulp, put the liquid in a container and let it ferment. That seems awfully simple to me, like there should be more steps. And, aren’t there any other ingredients, like sugar or yeast or flavoring? But, what the heck. He’s a lot older than me so I’ll do what he said. I know where there are grapes because I’ve picked and eaten wild grapes many times in the past. I can get glass jars and bottles for containers, and I know where to let the mixture ferment undetected. So, my adventure begins.

When I climb back down the tree I have almost a full pail and call it a day for picking grapes. Next is the mashing, which I do in a milk pail in the milk room, ensuring no one sees me go in. I then strain the mash with a sock I liberated from the sock drawer in our boys’ room. My storage containers are Mason jars that we have aplenty on The Farm from all the canning that’s done each fall. They don’t have a tight seal at the top without the rubber gasket, but I don’t want a tight seal. My “instructor” had warned that fermenting will create pressure and, if it has no place to go, the bottle will explode.

My final act is to put the jars in a safe place for fermentation. I want it to be warm because that’ll speed the fermentation. My brainstorm idea is to store them in one of the hay-silage bins we filled this past summer. It’s warm because of the chemical reaction in the fermenting hay, and I’ll have easy access to the containers. I just dig a hole in the silage, put the jars in standing up, so they didn’t leak, and cover the hole with more silage. With the previous two days of wine making, I have six jars in total fermenting and aging in my “wine cellar.”

Perfect. Now, all I have to do is wait for it to become wine.

It’s never been clear to me what that concoction I call wine is supposed to taste like. Nor do I know when the fermentation is complete. Nor do I know how long it’s supposed to age. At day three I become impatient and test one of the jars. It just smells and tastes like a weak grape juice, and I put it back. At the end of a week I test again. I can smell the fermentation when I take the lid off, which I think is a good sign. It has a slightly different taste, which I attribute to wine being made. The bottle goes back. At two weeks I can see the fermenting action taking place in the jars with little bubbles rising, and the liquid has a definite “kick” to it.

Two days into the third week I hear we’re going to start feeding cattle the hay silage. I have to come up with a new wine cellar option quickly.

My new storage space, wine cellar number two, is the hay loft. There are plenty of places to hide it there, so it’ll be safe. The downside is heat, of which there is very little, so fermentation will slow. And it’s more difficult getting the jars up into the loft than I anticipated. But it’s a secure spot. At the end of week three I test again. My first observation is that I can’t physically see the fermenting occurring in the jar anymore, likely because of the lack of heat. And the taste hasn’t changed much from the last testing. I have to come up with a warmer storage space.

Brainstorm number two arrives by accident. I’m repairing the automatic feeder in the main chicken house the next day. It’s in the attic portion of the building, an area kept temperate by the warm bodies and activity of 2,000 chickens below. It’s also dark and seldom frequented by anyone. It’ll be the ideal place to get the fermentation process moving again. I can place the jars in the far corner away from any prying eyes. Early in the evening, when no one’s around, I ferry the six jars to their new home, wine cellar number three. I’m hopeful it will be their final resting place.

Week four comes and goes and I decide to wait until the end of week five to test again. I’m optimistic the wine will be nearing the end of fermentation and turning into a fine wine.

As I climb up the ladder to the chicken house attic, I’m hit by a wave of fermentation odor. My first thought is that a jar has somehow tipped over, as improbable as that might be. I hurry over to the dimly lit corner with some slight trepidation. There at my feet are six broken mason jars! I’m stunned. Heartbroken. It’s clear the bottles have been broken, not exploded because of fermentation pressure. No one knew they were here. How could that happen? Who did it? How will I ever know?

Epilogue: Fast forward ten years. My brothers and I are having dinner with Mom and Dad at a restaurant in Waterloo. We’re reminiscing about some of the shenanigans that took place on The Farm, sharing with them some of the misdeeds we’d hid from them as foster kids. They’re enjoying the stories. Suddenly Dad looks up with a quizzical smile and asks which of us tried to make the wine. I’m completely taken aback. I’d almost forgotten about the ill-fated wine bottles. I confess with a grin and ask how he’d found the jars. Dad said it was dusty up in that attic and all he had to do was follow the footsteps to the corner.

Aha! Finally, after ten years, the mystery of the grapes of wrath was solved!

07/11/2024

Readers of The Progress Review may recall a series we ran in 2020 called Fostered on the Farm. Written by Nick Holman, the series recalled growing up in a La Porte City foster home in the 1950s and 1960s. We're excited to announce that Nick will be appearing at Hawkins Memorial Library on Saturday, August 3rd at 11 AM to share his newly published book, Fostered on the Farm: An Extraordinary Journey in the Company of Hope, Inspiration and Serendipity. As part of his presentation, Nick will graciously sign copies of his book, which will be available for purchase that day. If you can't wait until then, you can find it on Amazon.com. As we count down the days to Nick's visit, The Progress Review takes a trip down memory lane with the first installment of Fostered on the Farm:

Beginnings
By Nick Holman

It’s the 19th of May 1952 and a young boy, six but ready to turn seven in a few more weeks, is squeezed in between a younger sister and an older brother in the back seat of a 1949 or ’50 Chevy sedan. That boy is me. I’m still trying to understand and digest the events of the last couple of weeks. Changes came tumbling one after another, so fast we – my siblings and I – couldn’t get out of their way or wish them away. Mom and dad’s separation and then divorce, or was it the other way around? I wasn’t sure which happened first, but it didn’t matter. As a traveling shoe salesman, Dad was seldom around anyway, which made us wonder how he was able to father five girls and four boys in only 13 years from the same woman. Lack of birth control options in the 1930’s and 40’s certainly contributed. And when he was home, we often wished he wasn’t.

He was a man intolerable of any disobedience, and young children have a hard time understanding some of the rules. So, a raised, swift, hard hand was always there, ready to apply what he deemed was the needed discipline, and a swollen lip or black eye was not uncommon. The divorce didn’t surprise the older siblings, and we young ones were still too little to completely understand. We all knew he had a wandering eye, a moral fiber supporting that kind of behavior, and a history of not coming home at night, even when he wasn’t traveling on business.

Shortly after the divorce came the moves from one town to another, two of them in four months, each move ending in eviction because of rent not being paid. We, all nine of us kids, had remained with Mom. Dad had zero inclination to be saddled with kids as a single parent, and even less desire (and perhaps capability) to contribute toward keeping us clothed and fed. A divorced mother, whose only source of income is from county social services, naturally prioritizes feeding her kids versus paying the rent. Although the feeling of helplessness she was experiencing must have been agonizing, the torment she was enduring was unnoticed by me. All I knew was that I was changing schools every month or so, being stared at again as the new kid, visibly poor with holes in the knees of my pants and soles of my shoes.

And then there was the place we were temporarily housed after the county stepped in and took the nine of us from Mom. The details of that intervention were not clear to me, but I was too numb to care. We were in this large two-story residence for a week or so. It was meant as a short-term foster home, and the proprietress treated us with kindness. That was something rare from strangers I’d encountered in the past. It was nice, and there was food at the table for every meal, as much as I wanted to eat. The wonderful smell of toast wafting into the bedroom as I woke each morning was almost decadent to me. I’d heard of bacon and eggs before, and now I could have them. But there was no Mom – that’s mom with a capital M – now. According to the county, she was a mother unfit to care for her children. But she wasn’t unfit to us. She always showered us with love and affection, which is all she had to give. She just didn’t have the money to feed and clothe nine kids. We were now a ward of the county and in a new, temporary home.

This morning the oldest of my siblings, 16-year-old Darlene, was returned to our mom. It was a concession the county made to get Mom to sign the legal papers. The social services agency needed them for any potential future county actions. So now there are eight of us.

My two younger sisters, Eileen and Wendy, are ages three and four. I’m Richard, though sometimes I’m called Nick. I’m six. Following me in age, are two older brothers, Howard and Lonnie, ages seven and eight. After them are Beverly, age 10, Leroy, age 12, and Midge, age 14.

Though our ages span more than a decade, we are very close. That happens when the only life you’ve known is turmoil, poverty, hunger, abuse and a bleak future. The only ones to turn to are brothers and sisters.

There was one other item in the agreement Mom signed that we were unaware of until several months later. When it revealed itself, it absolutely devastated us, having a psychological impact for the rest of our lives. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Back in the Chevy, I’m somewhat anxious and trying to see out the side windows, but my older brothers are already occupying that view. There isn’t much for me to do but try to entertain my younger sister. As we come up over a hill, I sense the car slowing down. I thrust myself forward just far enough to get a quick glance out the front window. In that moment I see just ahead on the left side of the road a driveway leading to a two-story brick house and a bunch of buildings. It’s only a quick look, so I don’t recognize what the buildings are. However, never having been on a farm before, a long intent stare wouldn’t have helped me identify the barn, corn crib, hog house, chicken house and some out-buildings – all places I will come to know better than the fading image of my mother’s face.

05/22/2024

During this month of May when we celebrate Military Appreciation Month, enjoy special savings on the paperback edition of The Cedar Valley Honor Flight: A Photographic Journey. This new book honors the service of Iowa veterans and the work of dedicated volunteers who have made it possible to send nearly 3,000 veterans on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Washington, D.C.. Experience what these veterans have seen and felt with nearly 500 beautiful color photographs and interesting information about each of the monuments and memorials visited on a typical Honor Flight. Order online at https://palmertownpress.com and receive a FREE DVD entitled "The Best of Cedar Valley Honor Flights: The Monuments, Memorials and More." Filled with 120 minutes of the best video clips captured over the course of 28 flights, take a walking tour of the World War II Memorial, experience the Changing of the Guard ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery and much, much more.

05/19/2024

https://wcfcourier.com/news/local/michael-whittlesey-publishes-book-cedar-valley-honor-flights/article_48370ce4-12d2-11ef-8bd6-9fa5165fba74.html

The book takes readers on a photographic journey as area veterans travel to Washington, D.C., to visit memorials built to honor their service across three wars.

03/24/2024

https://palmertownpress.com/

Last day to order to receive a 10% discount before the book officially launches on Monday, March 25!

“The story of Cedar Valley Honor Flight is a photographic journey that illustrates how a grateful community honors the men and women who put their country before themselves. It’s a story about the importance of what it means to serve others.”

03/20/2024

Korean War Memorial - The Field of Service

The soldiers that appear in the Korean War Memorial are 19 stainless steel statues sculpted by Frank Ga***rd of Barre, Vermont and cast by Tallix Foundries of Beacon, New York. They are approximately seven feet tall, weigh close to 1,000 pounds each and represent an ethnic cross section of America. This composition is symbolically important because the Korean War was the first conflict since the American Revolution that U.S. military troops were not segregated by race.
The soldiers represent an advance party on patrol, depicting each of the four major branches of service: 14 Army, three Marine, one Navy and one Air Force, for a total of 19 service members. The statues stand among patches of juniper bushes and polished granite strips, which give a semblance of order and symbolizes the rice paddies of Korea. The troops wear ponchos covering their weapons and equipment, an indication of the harsh weather conditions that existed during the conflict.
It should be noted that wherever visitors are on the memorial grounds, the eyes of at least one soldier will be upon them.

Pre-order your copy of The Cedar Valley Honor Flight Story: A Photographic Journey before Monday, March 25, 2024 and receive a 10% discount!

With each book order you'll also receive a FREE DVD, The Best of Cedar Valley Honor Flight - 11 programs containing two hours of video. Witness an Wreath Laying Ceremony and the Changing of the Guard Ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery. Take a walking tour of the World War II Memorial and witness the incredible precision of The Marching 24, a drill carried out by U.S. Marines in absolute silence.

03/06/2024

New book telling the Cedar Valley Honor Flight story to be released March 25

LA PORTE CITY, IOWA, March 6, 2024 - “You’re gonna see some stuff that’s gonna make you go ‘Ooh and aah!’”

While the tour bus driver was referencing how people drive in Washington, D.C., he could have easily been describing the images presented in The Cedar Valley Honor Flight Story: A Photographic Journey, a new book by Michael Whittlesey published by Palmertown Press.

In 2010, what began as a simple conversation between local media mogul Jim Coloff and Black Hawk County Supervisor Craig White soon became an effort to establish Waterloo, Iowa as an Honor Flight hub. In The Cedar Valley Honor Flight Story, learn how a dedicated group of volunteers were able to accomplish this feat, as well as the work that must be done to get an Honor Flight off the ground. Travel with veterans who have made the trip to Washington, D.C. to visit monuments and memorials erected in their honor. Filled with hundreds of photographs presented in the order of a typical Honor Flight day, see and feel what the Iowa veterans have experienced during this a once-in-a-lifetime event. Each stop along the Cedar Valley Honor Flight itinerary offers a summary that includes some of the history and amazing facts about the monuments and memorials visited.

For eighteen years, Michael Whittlesey served as the editor and publisher of The Progress Review, the local newspaper based in La Porte City, Iowa. In 2011, as a last-minute replacement on Cedar Valley Honor Flight’s second flight to the nation’s capital, Mike used the photos and video captured on that trip to create a commemorative DVD that was given to each veteran, free of charge. Since that time, Mike and his wife, Jane, have served as the official camera crew for every Cedar Valley Honor Flight, presenting more than 2,500 veterans with commemorative DVDs of their experiences. With nearly 10,000 images captured over the years by Mike, Jane and photographers Mary Bauer and Katie Sadler, The Cedar Valley Honor Story: A Photographic Journey is filled with the very best images taken from this collection, ones that beautifully illustrate what the Honor Flight experience means to local veterans.

On March 25, 2024, The Cedar Valley Honor Flight Story: A Photographic Journey will be available for sale on Amazon.com and palmertownpress.com. For a limited time, copies may now be pre-ordered with a special 10% discount at palmertownpress.com.

03/04/2024

Welcome Home

“A lot of people coming back, they don’t [expect it]. They’re just totally in awe when they come in and that airport is packed. It’s the welcome home they never got, especially for the Vietnam veterans.” ~Lee Bedore, Honor Flight Organizer

One might think that all of the activities of a day spent in Washington, D.C. would leave Iowa veterans with so many things to talk about, it would be difficult to choose which experience stood out the most. For many, one lasting memory has nothing at all to do with the nation's capital. Rather, the highlight of the day happens on the concourse of the Waterloo Regional Airport when the veterans disembark from the airplane and are greeted by hundreds of friends and family members welcoming them home.

And what a welcome it is. An es**rt provided by the Knights of Columbus leads the parade of veterans in, the terminal lined with people waving American flags, families holding welcome home signs for their favorite veterans. Hugs and handshakes abound, all while the Cedar Valley Big Band performs such standards as "American Patrol," "In the Mood" and "Sing, Sing, Sing."

While The Cedar Valley Honor Flight Story: A Photographic Journey contains dozens of images that span nearly thirty welcome home celebrations, perhaps one photograph, captured in October 2018, best expresses the joy of the moment. As the festivities of the celebration were winding down, one final wheelchair descended down the jetway transporting a veteran who was quickly joined by, wait for it... his beautiful bride of who knows how many years.

Welcome home, indeed!

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02/16/2024

The Ground Crew

Cedar Valley Honor Flights have reached their final destination of Washington, D.C. by way of the three major airports serving the nation’s capital. Early flights arrived at Dulles International Airport located in Dulles, Virginia. The organization has also made arrivals at Baltimore-Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport and Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport.

Regardless the arrival location, one common sight is the presence of volunteers adorned in brightly colored t-shirts. These Honor Flight Ground Crew members not only greet each incoming flight, they assist veterans and streamline their movement through the terminal to the tour buses that await them.

In Baltimore, Cedar Valley Honor Flight veterans had the pleasure of meeting Joe Short, whose infectious enthusiasm for greeting veterans was a welcome like no other. Stationed prominently at the head of the greeting line, Mr. Short wasn't having any of the standard, "Welcome to Baltimore," or "Thank you for your service," catchphrases. No siree. If the name on the lanyard worn by each veteran was not visible, Joe wouldn't hesitate to reach out and turn it around so he could warmly greet each person by name. And as evidenced by one of the featured photographs in the soon-to-be-released book The Cedar Valley Honor Flight Story: A Photographic Journey, one could say Joe even had a special way with the ladies.

Given the brisk schedule of arrivals from Honor Flights spanning more than 40 states, there must be hundreds of volunteers living in the Washington, D.C. area that serve as members of the Ground Crew. Look closely at the backs of the t-shirts they wear and you'll find a Will Rogers quote that sums up the spirit of gratitude these volunteers share: “We can’t all be heroes - some of us get to stand on the curb and clap as they go by.”

02/12/2024

The Sailor

Cedar Valley Honor Flight's 13th trip took 98 World War II and Korean War era veterans to Washington, D.C. on June 16, 2015. It wasn't until the following year that Vietnam War veterans were eligible for Honor Flights departing from Waterloo, Iowa, so there were a large number of wheelchairs to manage and veterans who needed them that day.

There are two moments during each Honor Flight experience where photographers need a fast camera and a trigger finger to match. With the goal of capturing at least one image of every veteran in attendance, the best times to do this are when the plane lands, both going and coming home.

After we landed at Baltimore-Washington International Airport on that warm day in June, 2015, I was looking for the best position that would result in good images of the receiving line. A group of active duty Navy sailors had made their way to the airport to greet the veterans from Waterloo and I had to admit they looked quite snappy in their mostly white uniforms. During a short break in the action, as I waited for another group of wheelchairs to descend down the jetway, something caught my eye at the end of the receiving line. Unlike everyone else who was standing, Petty Officer Jeff Kleppe had squatted down so that he could make direct eye contact with a veteran hunched over in his wheelchair. While it was a genuine moment I will never forget and was lucky enough to photograph, I was even more impressed when we returned to the airport nine hours later. Waiting there to visit and see his "fellow" Iowa veterans off before they returned home was Jeff Kleppe. I say "fellow" because the petty officer's hometown is Elgin, Iowa.

Not only did this image grace the front page of the next edition of The Progress Review, it was also on the cover of the commemorative DVD each veteran on the flight received. To this day, the image still resonates, a beautiful example of the intent of the Honor Flight program. And that's why it's also featured on the cover of The Cedar Valley Honor Flight Story: A Photographic Journey, a new book coming soon, filled with 166 pages of photos that will make you proud to be an American. -MW

BE SURE TO LIKE THE PALMERTOWN PRESS FACEBOOK PAGE FOR A CHANCE TO WIN A COPY OF THIS BOOK.

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