The old, hoar-frosted warriors in coats of shabby blue are huddled against a relentless snowstorm. Imprisoned now for crimes beyond their control and not of their doing. They were pulled from their moorings, herded, and locked up in a  barbed-wire enclosure. An unexpected and unearned reward for what was years of reliable service to their country. They await the scrap heap in forlorn silence.

In happier times they stood proud, robust and solid with fresh coats of blue outlined in red and white. They were symbols of security and hope to millions of Americans. They brightly opened their doors to all hopeful, dutiful citizens. The citizens in turn entrusted their inner dreams to these bastions of strength.

In all manner of weather and around the clock they were available for the grateful nation. The service continued unabated even though they suffered  indignities from vandals, drunks and dogs. The citizens marveled at their endurance and thought they would last forever.

But as time marched on and progress intervened the usefulness of these blue-cloaked stalwarts vanished. The citizens found other methods to fulfill their duties and pursue their ambitions. But when the winter holidays come the loss is felt the hardest. Especially by the hopeful young who now have to find other ways to send their messages of hope.

But as an anxious nation watches, one by one these old blue dependables are being yanked from the streets  and brought to this wayward, windswept outpost and left to wither away.

Gone but not forgotten. Not forgotten by those that come on foot and in great numbers. Not forgotten by those who left their hopes and dream: the satisfied bill-payer who got by for another month, the eager job applicant who struggled to make a living, that wizened writer who thought that this time someone might read his work and see his brilliance, and that little kid who scrambled up to the trapdoor and slid down his most precious wish--in a letter to Santa.