Steve Stroud

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And who will answer?  It sounds the battle cry for every citizen to raise the U.S. flag in fidelity to God and country, but to make sure that the eye is fastened to the red which makes the stripe among the white, remembering that at times its folds are stretched tightly as if with bitter tension to lie across the body of a boy.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A tribute to you, Steve.</div> <bR> <div> Your death is significant, for amid the arguments waged for and against this war, you offered your life.  As congressmen debated, you marched. As they negotiated, you died.  Your death is significant because the circumstances become irrelevant when a life is offered.  Whether one argument is victorious or another, your expenditure was all the same.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A tribute to you, Steve.</div> <bR> <div> Your death is significant because it is a hand outstretched to us, making its demands.  It is the beggar at our door.  We must fill its demand; for your life offered is an investment in ours.  What we do with our nation will be our tribute to what you did with your life.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A tribute to you, Steve.</div> <bR> <div> Your death is an outstretched hand with a pointing finger facing the future.  It points beyond this day.  It directs our minds to the cause of peace.  It marks a horizon for our hopes.  It beckons a forward march.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A tribute to you, Steve.</div> <bR> <div> Your death is significant, for we do not measure life except by death.  We do not count our days until the evening.  Your death will open eyes for a new vision of the worth of life.  Life can abound in your death as every attempt is made to make your sacrifice the sacred mound upon which to build that society of men who shall beat their swords into plowshares, their spears into pruning hooks, that society in which a little child shall lead them, not into battle, but into peace on earth and good will toward men.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A tribute to you, Steve.</div> <bR> <div> For no, mere death is not significant.  But your death is not mere death, for your death cannot die.  It lives so vividly that it puts your life within ours; it beckons and it calls; it marches forward in every hour demanding that we pledge allegiance to our boys who are of the people, by the people and for the people.</div> <bR> <div> So we offer our thanks to you, young soldier.  We pay tribute to your life which yet continues in this death, this significant death which calls us to our posts.</div> <bR> <div>                                                                                                                                                         Bill L. Stroud, Ph. D.</div> <div>                                                                                                                                                         Eulogy for Steve Stroud  </div> <div>                                                                                                                                                         May, 1970</div> <bR> <div>  </div> <div> <TABLE BORDER="2" CELLPADDING="2" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="516" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" ALIGN="LEFT" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" BGCOLOR=#000066 > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 138 ><NOBR><div> <IMG SRC="26d6f830.jpg" border=0 width="111" height="131" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER WIDTH="378"><div> Bill Stroud, of Oxford, Mississippi,, has an extensive background in three areas: theology, philosophy and psychology (B.D, Th.D., Ph.D). Although semi-retired, he is active as a speaker, free-lance writer and a workshop presenter for educational and service agencies.  He presently is an adjunct professor in the Department of Philosophy and Religion at Ole Miss University.</div> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>