For a second, one of our dogs growls. I shoot her a look. That's it for the growling. She's now back to what she was doing before; nothing.
And so we celebrate another Memorial Day.
Where did the year since last Memorial Day go? Your parents, my parents, gave us a load of things to consider when we were kids, and I suppose, some of it was just that, a load.
One thing they were not "giving us the business" about is the matter of time flying as you age. If nothing else good old mom and pop ever told us was true, the routine about aging is an immutable. Too bad you haven't the brains to realize that when you're twelve.
Thinking back on it, it was my mother who was big on forever reminding me to be in no big hurry to grow up, to slow down and love every second of life made available to me.
She was so right.
In this past year I've been to several veterans' events, some quite large, ceremonial, and choreographed with great thought. I always get a lump in my throat when it comes time to post the colors, say the pledge, then sing our anthem. The Star Spangled Banner is one really tough song to sing, made even more difficult by the beginning of the sob that begins each time I try.
Maybe it's having been at those events that's giving me an excuse, helping me to assuage my guilt, for not having been at Memorial Day ceremony of some kind, any kind, so far today. The day isn't yet done.
As a kid, my Memorial Days were all about cemeteries and cleaning the graves of family members who'd gone to their reward. We'd scrub headstones, pull weeds, plant flowers, following which there'd be a quick standing and staring at the work we'd done, while I'm certain the adults among us spoke in silence to those interred beneath.
Perhaps this day we'll visit a cemetery and pay brief homage and give our thanks to those who gave, and to think of those still giving. Thank you.
