AN OLD SOLDIER'S BOOTS "What value can be placed on an old Soldier's boots?" I heard the auctioneer say. "Will a bid be started for these old worn soles that once trod in lands far away?" He said, "I know for a fact they were worn by a Soldier that survived the war. For a treasure of history, what will be the price that these combat boots will sell for?" The crowd looked stunned as though at a loss Where to start the bidding that day. Watching a crippled old man with his head hung as he stood in dim light by the doorway. On a corner uptown with no place to go I knew I had seen that man before. Tired and worn living on the streets, that old Soldier was still fighting a war. I knew without a doubt they belonged to him because the pain was showing on his face. I walked up and put some money in the boot and everything fell into place. People came together at the auction that day; the compassion in others came alive. Everyone walked by that old Soldier's boots dropping a bill or two inside. The auctioneer picked up those boots And returned them to the Soldier by the door. He was crying out loud as he clutched those boots that once again carried him through a war. "The value that can be placed on an old Soldier's boots," I heard the auctioneer say, "Could never be placed on the life of another or the lesson we have all learned today." ©Copyright May 31, 2001 by Eileen Breedlove