I'm an American girl, living in the Washington, D.C. area, and it's cool these days to be patriotic (so, of course, my natural tendency to is smirk, knowingly, at that) and it's also cool in this area to be patriotic but also to be sardonic about it, too, behind closed doors, and just ... I don't know, poke fun at our country and our countrymen and women.
But you know what isn't cool?
In our apartment complex I pass two cars every day in the wee early morning hours and I see a bumper sticker and I see a stenciling and they both say this: "To W_, beloved husband and father, 1989 - 2009." "To J_, we miss you, 1988 - 2007."
"Beloved husband and father" ascribed to a boy born after me and died before me. And you can say: 'oh, he got married too early,' but I won't say that.
It may be 'cool' or not for me to be patriotic but here, right where I live, are two people, cool or not who died, so I could be cool or not.
Today, I'm gonna do something different. I'm taking the day, and going to the parade, and burning up in the heat, and gonna get terribly sunburned (God, I hope not!), and stand up every time the flag passes and take off my sun hat (and really get sunburned, curse my pale-pale self!) and smile at the vets and guys (and girls, too!) in the parade on motorcycles or not, and wave back when they wave.
And then I'm going to come back home and reread my Vera story and finally watch that movie Grace Is Gone (trailer) and probably cry as I cry now, watching the trailer, and probably eat a whole thing of Cherry Garcia (bad girl!) and ...
And remember our vets, some of whom I know coming in for their daily cup-o-joe, some of whom I knew. And sincerely thank God for them, today, and try to remember that, and remember them, everyday.
Happy Memorial Day.
kisses, 'phfina
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