Oak Rooted in Battle Headlines

--Journalists see a lot of tragedy in their line of work and sometimes fall victim to it themselves. In a ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery dozens of their colleagues paid tribute to 228 war correspondents who died in their line of duty: reporting the news. George Herman, who covered the Korean War for CBS, called them “soldiers of democracy.” “We lived, drank and ate with the military, and it was inevitable that some of us should die with them too,” he said. A Darlington oak--chosen as the symbol of journalistic commitment because it keeps its leaves year-round--was planted and beneath it was placed a book-shaped stone with the inscription: “This tree grows in memory of journalists who died while covering wars and conflicts for the American people. One who finds a truth lights a torch.” Those honored ranged from three who died covering the Spanish Civil War to Arizona Republic reporter Charles Thornton, who was ambushed last year in Afghanistan.

--In addition to being a prolific songwriter, John Lennon also penned several collections of short sketches and poems, with “In His Own Write” and “A Spaniard in the Works” both published in the ‘60s. Another manuscript, written in the late ‘70s, was stolen shortly after Lennon’s death in 1980 and only recently recovered. Thursday would have been Lennon’s 46th birthday, and his widow, Yoko Ono, is marking the occasion with the official publication of that work, “Skywriting by Word of Mouth.” It reflects the period in which Lennon “retired” from music and stayed home to raise their son, Sean.

--Eight-year-old Dean Joss Jr. learned how to perform the Heimlich maneuver in his Tampa, Fla., elementary school and was anxious to try out his newly acquired skill. Less than two weeks later he used it to save his 3-year-old sister’s life. When Lorianna Joss doubled over and began choking on a piece of butterscotch candy, Dean came to the rescue by wrapping his arms around her chest from behind and squeezing hard. The candy popped right out.

--The city fathers in Wilkinsburg, Pa., wanted to protect a time capsule buried in 1962 from vandals, so they kept its location a closely held secret. It was supposed to be opened this week as part of the community’s 100th anniversary celebration. Problem is, no one can find it. Harold J. (Chick) Ake, who was a member of the Wilkinsburg Chamber of Commerce in 1962, recalled that the City Council held a closed meeting to decide where to bury the capsule. “They . . . didn’t tell anyone,” he said. And all those who had a hand in the project are now dead.