1) Yesterday I rototilled the garden in preparation for planting. I left my left hip by the asparagus bed and my right one by the rhubarb. The knees waited until bedtime to join the joint cacophony. And this morning the pollen picked a fight with my sinuses. Yeah. I'm a stud-muffin.
and
2) I really I don't think I can add anything substantial to what I wrote last year. For me, it says what I wanna say.
That being said, join me, if you would, to remember "Remembering".
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Another Memorial Day.
It is officially an official Day of Rememberance.
For some it’s a day to remember which sale has the best prices,
"Where did I put those coupons", and
"Did I bring enough beverages?".
(“You remembered to bring the coleslaw, right?”)
Others remember when the world was at war.
Well, their little section of the world, anyway.
They remember things that intensely paint the most private parts of
life.
Deep feelings that glow again with the most intense of colors.
That’s Memorial Day.
Every generation has 'em
when War touches us where we live.
Like Saturday nights, talking with
friends.
A certain song plays and the talk turns to someone far from home, soon to return.
Or someone who will never come home
again.
Remembering.
It’s something we gotta be trained to do, isn’t it?
If I’m not trained to remember, I tend to forget.
And when I forget, I tend to take things for granted.
Like they’ve always been this way.
A long time ago, I was trained to remember.
Five days a week.
Nine months a year.
I was trained to remember that there is something bigger than myself.
Something I belong to.
Something that belongs to all of us, here, in our little part
of the world..
“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.
And to the Republic for which it
stands.
One Nation.
Under God.
With Liberty
and Justice
for all.”
Yeah.
I remember.
I hope you do, too.
Happy Memorial Day.