He came home from the war on the sixteenth of April, nineteen forty six. Eighteen days later he walked into the American Legion post in Arab, Alabama and joined up.

That was eighty years ago today. He is a hundred and four. And he still cuts his own grass.

Also: the men who drive Poland's trains did the only thing a train driver can do. A candlelight vigil held for thirty years, and the six words that turned out to be a crime. A president who took his jacket off in front of his officers. A hundred and eleven degrees on the California desert, and a diesel price nobody has ever paid before. Eight people carried out of a burning building in Glendale, and then the roof came in. A stranger who went into the water off Long Island. Ranch flavored ice cream. A fifteen year old on the hull of an overturned skiff in the Bering Sea. And a ten ou ...