Lieutenant Edgar M. Rosenwasser, Army Air Corps, volunteered to serve his country in 1942. The 20-year-old hoped to become a pilot, but less-than-perfect vision prevented that. So Edgar became a bombardier navigator on a B-24 Liberator that flew from Foggia, Italy with a crew led by Captain Leonard D. Switzer on 47 bombing missions over Germany, completing 51 sorties. The average number flown was 8.
Today Edgar is 94 years old and the legs that stood him tall through war and life have gone soft, but his mind is steely strong. He has experienced a few assisted living facilities; none worth a second glance. But since April, due to the caring research of his daughter, Nancy, Lt. Ed is in the loving arms of the Veterans’ Administration. Yes, I just said the Veterans’ Administration. You know, the vilified one.
As a result, I’m here to say: “Hey, you. You Americans out there, get together and stand up for Lt. Ed, the VA, and the USA.”
Today Edgar is 94 years old and the legs that stood him tall through war and life have gone soft, but his mind is steely strong. He has experienced a few assisted living facilities; none worth a second glance. But since April, due to the caring research of his daughter, Nancy, Lt. Ed is in the loving arms of the Veterans’ Administration. Yes, I just said the Veterans’ Administration. You know, the vilified one.
As a result, I’m here to say: “Hey, you. You Americans out there, get together and stand up for Lt. Ed, the VA, and the USA.”
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| Edgar meets his great grand-daughter in 2013.Add caption |
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| Edgar and Henriette married 66 years, until her death in 2008. |
I saw it first hand – I saw the love and care the staff of the West Palm Beach VA Hospice extends not only to the veterans in their care, but also to the family members and friends who visit them. And for those who have few visitors, volunteers appear like clock-work. They are all former soldiers, some in their 40s, a few in their 90s, and another, I’m told, who is 107. That is not a typo. They walk – or ride scooters – from the huge teaching hospital to the smaller outer buildings that include long-term care and hospice facilities.
Clint is one of them. He walks with a cane due to a numb leg that gives out on him, but his heart is big enough to get him along. Clint steps into Lt. Edgar’s large private room and knocks off a crisp salute with his “Good morning, Sir.” Clint is a retired non-commissioned officer which means he needn’t salute a lieuteneant, according to Ed’s son, Michael, my husband, a US Navy veteran who witnesses this with me at his father’s bedside.
Clint and the Lieutenant trade some military repartee. It means little to me, so I look around at the context of their banter. Now, my heart swells. A baseball cap with a visor filled with Air Corps décor sits atop a stack of military books. A 1940s photo of Lt. Ed and a crew of leathernecks in front of their B-24 poses there, too. There are cards from the Lieutenant’s children, grandchildren, great grandchild, and random U.S. school kids who’ve written to say “Thanks for your service.” Encased in velvet, a box tilts upward toward the Lieutenant's eye-level. It displays his officer bars and his medal for bravery.
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Edgar M Rosenwasser, (l, standing), 736 BombSquadron
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Over a two day period, we see the Chaplain stop by to finish a conversation she, a retired US Navy vet, and the Lieutenant had begun the day before about air craft carriers. Then the hospice manager and the dietician come in to inquire about the Lieutenant's meals and comfort; the pharmacist arrives to review Edgar's medicines with him. A technician brings in a clean blanket to tuck around the Lieutenant's legs. Dr. Michael Silverman appears for a daily assessment and reiterates that his team will do whatever they can to buoy Lt. Ed's spirits. The staff puts him in a wheelchair and brings him outside to breathe fresh, morning air, and on some fine evenings when Lt. Ed wants to savor a sip of Scotch, they are happy to oblige.
What Michael and I see here, in this hospice where Lt. Ed has come to end his days, is Lt. Ed himself. He is not the protoplasm in a hospital gown that we visited in the other assisted care facilities. He is Lt. Edgar M. Rosenwasser, an American who served his country well. He has a name, a family, a back story, and a relationship to every one of these brothers and sisters in arms, and so does every other resident of this facility.
But there’s more to this story about America at its best. While visiting Lt. Ed, we stayed in The Fisher House, a beautiful residence provided for the loved ones of hospitalized veterans. First opened as family comfort homes in 1990 with a $20 million grant from Zachary and Elizabeth Fisher, there are now 60 houses across the US and in Europe. Each serves with the philosophy that "families heal." Donations are welcome, but there is no charge for staying there. http://www.wpbfisherhouse.org/donate.html
From their mission statement:
“The road home can be a rough one---that is why we have Fisher House. It’s a Home away from Home for veterans and their families, located on the grounds of major VA medical centers and Military Hospitals. We have one—right here—steps from the VA Medical Center in West Palm Beach. It has the highest occupancy rate of all Fisher Houses (as of 2012). Families stay as long as necessary, free of charge. It is, indeed, a home away from home.”
That says it all. In the West Palm Beach Fisher House, we were among several families whose veterans are of all ages. Some had been there for four months, but all can stay as long as their veteran is under care. The house is immaculate, the décor is modern, warm, and welcoming. There are scores of DVDs, books, and games available. The kitchen is fully stocked for any meal of the day,
That says it all. In the West Palm Beach Fisher House, we were among several families whose veterans are of all ages. Some had been there for four months, but all can stay as long as their veteran is under care. The house is immaculate, the décor is modern, warm, and welcoming. There are scores of DVDs, books, and games available. The kitchen is fully stocked for any meal of the day,
I walk around the Fisher House and hear the strains of America’s soundtrack playing in my head. Soldiers’ boots pop out from corners; a bust of the Fishers smiles from a bureau; needlework flags hang on the walls to honor loved ones; a visitors’ book encourages mention of the veteran being attended by the family signing in. There are flowers everywhere, an abundance of k-cups provides an endless coffee selection, and Kleenex – Kleenex boxes stand at the ready in every room.
I reach for a tissue as I take it all in. I cry because I’m proud. This is our country. These wonderful gestures are from our people. Americans. I’m proud to be one.
by Suzanne McLain Rosenwasser with Michael Rosenwasser
by Suzanne McLain Rosenwasser with Michael Rosenwasser
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| West Palm Beach Fisher House |
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| Front Hall and the Fishers |
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Books by Suzanne McLain Rosenwasser
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