We are far from Europe and Asia. The wars of the century past might easily have swept by, and around, us. Our many pastures, and the cities, states, and oceans beyond them might have sheltered us from the suffering, conquest, and cruel ambitions that swept those distant continents. A different, lesser people would have remained crouched and silent while tyrants in Berlin and Tokyo drew plans against millions upon millions.
We were not (and I am convinced that we are not) that different, lesser people. We were first the arsenal, and thereafter the armies, navies, and squadrons, upon which all the civilized world relied.
Berlin is more than four-thousand miles away; Tokyo is more than six-thousand miles distant. We put aside farms, factories, homes, and schools, to travel toward those aggressive, malevolent cities. We were committed only to the defense and preservation of our free, better way of life, and the liberation of others who sought a similar freedom.
Our dairy would never taste as sweet, our machines would never run so well, in a world dominated by Führer and Emperor. To preserve the beauty of our way of life, it was necessary to scrape those malign enemies from the very face of the earth.
The Old Armory (then, just the Armory) was a concrete, practical commitment in support of that noble war effort. It is as beautiful today as it was on its first day. If calamity should befall this small town, we should commit to the rebuilding of the Old Armory just as soon as we have restored our homes and churches.
It is right that we should vote in that building, a sturdy redoubt that played a small role in a great effort to defeat the world’s most pernicious tyrannies. I never pass the Old Armory without feeling its uplifting influence. I am certain, as one can be of any worldly thing, that many of my fellow residents feel the same.