As we seniors pile on the years and those years move by so quickly, the reality of our mortality comes into clearer view with each passing day, week, month, and year. Someone once said, "we begin to die the moment we are born." Of course no one can dispute that obvious statement. My eldest brother Len passed into the Lord's hands last week after a bout with cancer. As can be seen in the obit from today's TIMES OF TRENTON, Len had a long and eventful life. I remember the horror on my mom's face that hot day in August, 1944 when the Western Union man knocked on our front door. All those who recall the dreaded visit of a Western Union man was a sure harbinger of bad news. The telegram from the War Department read, "Regret to inform you your son, Leonard is missing in action." Many prayers wafted their way to heaven on that day. It was the first and last time I ever saw my father cry. An answered prayer returned the next day when the same Western Union man delivered a telegram that said, "Disregard all previous message. Letter will follow. Love, Len." And so ends the very short saga of a true WWII hero, my brother Len.