Sonia Crane hears the front gate open and looks up from the sink full of dirty dishes. Her husband, Lewis, left for the office

only an hour ago. He wouldn't be back so soon. Out the kitchen window, she sees someone

else and feels a chill.

Striding up the front walk is a teenage boy in a dark gray Western Union uniform.

It's December 29, 1943, and Sonia has three sons fighting in the war.

Four military families, Western Union telegrams almost always mean bad news.

Sonia opens the door to find the courier standing at attention, like a little soldier,

his posture straight, his arms held tightly to his sides.

For some reason, her eyes go to his shoes, which are black and shiny, even in the snow.

Telegram for Mr and Mrs. Louis Crane.

I'm Mrs. Crane. I'm Mrs Crane.

For you, ma'am.

He hands Sonia the telegram, then waits.

Sonia's heart gallops as she opens the envelope,

but she's not a woman who falls to pieces in a crisis.

Thirty years ago, she and Louis came to America from Hamburg, Germany, on a steamship

packed with thousands of immigrants. They were fleeing anti-Semitism and

starting from nothing. They built a life here in West Philadelphia. They weathered the

Great Depression and raised three sons.

Her boys are now in the service.

Morris in Europe, Nathan in the Pacific, and young Leon at an air base in Alaska.

Sonia opens the telegram and reads, her hands tremble as she takes in the words.

...