The Delivery

(The following story may only have deep set feelings for people over 60, and those that remember the Blue Stars and Gold Stars proudly displayed in the front windows of homes.)

The young man delivered the telegram as an olive drab four door Chevrolet pulled up out front.

A man in brown colored jacket and tan pants got out of the vehicle, his brass buttons reflecting the sunlight. Another man dressed in black also exited, and together they came up the sidewalk towards the house.

They stopped and watched the young man on the bike pedal away. His bicycle basket still containing telegrams. The "Western Union" hat tilted on the back of his head. Walking towards the woman the man in the brown jacket said;

" Mrs. Stevens"?

She nodded yes, and her lower lip started to quiver. Her hand crushed the unopened telegram to her breasts.

The man started to speak, "I am with General," Mrs. Stevens knees became weak, and she started to faint.

"Mrs. Stevens would you like to sit down, you look rather pale." Said the man as he grabbed her arm and guided her over to a rocking chair, and helped her sit.

The man in black pulled a chair from a table near the wall, and sat next to her. Opening the folder he had placed on his lap.

The man in the tan jacket said "As I was saying, I am with General Mills, and your recipe for "Poor Man's Stew" has been deemed the best recipe out of over eleven hundred entries."

The man dressed in black said, "I have here a check for you in the amount of five hundred dollars. In just a little while a photographer will be here to take your picture with us handing you the check.

We wanted to make sure that you knew about it before hand as some ladies want to change their dress or comb their hair and things like that before the picture.

"We sent you a telegram earlier this morning letting you know that you won. Apparently we arrived at the same time as the telegram." Said the man in the brown jacket smiling.