Fred Rasmussen’s recent article about Baltimore Sun reporter Lee McCardell (“A seasoned WWII correspondent speculated on meaning of war’s end," May 7) was wonderful.
I have the privilege of living in the house that Mr. McCardell and his wife Nancy built on Wilmslow Road in Baltimore and am proud to be their grandson. He loved planting flowers and shrubs in his garden. And he especially loved his rose bushes. My mother always told me how he would get on his hands and knees each spring and fiddle with his plants — usually in vain. But the roses were different. They were hardy and tenacious.
In his reporting, my grandfather told his readers in May of 1945 that he received a letter from home stating that his wife had written: “I leaned out our front window this morning. The rosebushes are filled with buds. Do you really think you’ll be home in time to smell them?” I’d like to share with your readers that this exact same rose bush — 75 years later — continues to thrive outside the front window and is now filled with buds just waiting to bloom.
My entire family can’t wait to smell them!
Mac Kennedy, Baltimore
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