Memorial Day
When I was little, every year my grandpa would take me aside--usually he had to run me down first, because I was taking full advantage of the day off.
He'd take me aside, and he'd say, remember why you're not in school today. He'd say, battlefield surgery is a risky business, and even the ones who made it back to camp, some of them he couldn't save. Some of them he knew, had joked around with, played cards with, talked about what they'd do when they got home. He'd say: they didn't die for nothing, and then he'd point to the house, and the barn, and the fields--my whole world, when I was five--and he'd say, they died for this.
So every year I enjoy the day off. I enjoy the hell out of it. But I always try to remember the ones who can't. This day is for them, a lot more than it is for me.
And now if you'll excuse me, I have meat to grill, drums to play, a girlfriend to photograph, and that pool looks awfully inviting. :)
He'd take me aside, and he'd say, remember why you're not in school today. He'd say, battlefield surgery is a risky business, and even the ones who made it back to camp, some of them he couldn't save. Some of them he knew, had joked around with, played cards with, talked about what they'd do when they got home. He'd say: they didn't die for nothing, and then he'd point to the house, and the barn, and the fields--my whole world, when I was five--and he'd say, they died for this.
So every year I enjoy the day off. I enjoy the hell out of it. But I always try to remember the ones who can't. This day is for them, a lot more than it is for me.
And now if you'll excuse me, I have meat to grill, drums to play, a girlfriend to photograph, and that pool looks awfully inviting. :)