My Grandfather Conrad Blatter. He fought Bare Knuckle Boxing when he was a young man for extra cash. Drafted, he went to France and fought in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive, where he picked up a piece of shrapnel in his butt. While recovering from his wound, the "Spanish Flue Pandemic" swept Europe, and he survived. He came home to Portland, Oregon and worked as a Steam Fitter the rest of his life, working with tons of molten lead and asbestos in confined areas. He retired eventually to live in the home he had built to replace the "old homestead," which was a dump. He smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish. Speaking of which, he loved to fish and fished just about every river and lake in the state. He fell off a ladder on the second story of his house when he was 72 years old, and was up again a few days later. He was one tough man. I remember when I was 18, I was working on my car and he asked for a ride to the liquor store. When I brought him home (we lived right next door), as I was walking away he said to me, "I hear you joined the Army. What the hell did you do that for?" Then he asked me in and and got me "stupid." That was the only time I'd ever heard him speak of WWI. We talked until I could barely walk next door. I was gone a few days later for Basic Training at Ft. Lewis. He died at 92 because he just got tired. His wife and all his friends had died, so he was basically alone. Sometimes even family isn't enough. I loved that old man as much as anyone can love another and I hope he would be just a little proud of me.

Eric Blatter
Sandy, OR