Ralph was the son of Joseph Bepko. Ralph's mother died Feb. 20, 1963. She was born in Streeter, Illinois. Ralph had two sisters; Jean (Kuta) and Catherine (Schmidt).
Mr. Bepko was a teacher and basketball coach at the Robert Louis Stevenson Elementary School in Melrose Park, Illinois.
He was a very patriotic man who loved and served his country and taught his students to do the same. I recall the times when he would tell us about the brave men of the Merchant Marines who would bring much needed supplies to the war ships. On several occasions, I heard him recite with tears in his eyes, the following poem:
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Thank you Mr. Bepko. You were an American Hero.
Mr. Bepko was a teacher and basketball coach at the Robert Louis Stevenson Elementary School in Melrose Park, Illinois.
He was a very patriotic man who loved and served his country and taught his students to do the same. I recall the times when he would tell us about the brave men of the Merchant Marines who would bring much needed supplies to the war ships. On several occasions, I heard him recite with tears in his eyes, the following poem:
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Thank you Mr. Bepko. You were an American Hero.
Ralph was the son of Joseph Bepko. Ralph's mother died Feb. 20, 1963. She was born in Streeter, Illinois. Ralph had two sisters; Jean (Kuta) and Catherine (Schmidt).
Mr. Bepko was a teacher and basketball coach at the Robert Louis Stevenson Elementary School in Melrose Park, Illinois.
He was a very patriotic man who loved and served his country and taught his students to do the same. I recall the times when he would tell us about the brave men of the Merchant Marines who would bring much needed supplies to the war ships. On several occasions, I heard him recite with tears in his eyes, the following poem:
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Thank you Mr. Bepko. You were an American Hero.
Mr. Bepko was a teacher and basketball coach at the Robert Louis Stevenson Elementary School in Melrose Park, Illinois.
He was a very patriotic man who loved and served his country and taught his students to do the same. I recall the times when he would tell us about the brave men of the Merchant Marines who would bring much needed supplies to the war ships. On several occasions, I heard him recite with tears in his eyes, the following poem:
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Thank you Mr. Bepko. You were an American Hero.
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