Happy Monday everyone!

I've spent a lot of time thinking about starting a blog. Like a lot of people, the IDEA sounds great but not knowing a whole bunch about it (ok...I'm not the 'tweeny' generation here!!) I dithered and dragged my feet and...well, you get the whole 'procrastination...I don't want to make an idiot of myself' scenario. But today, coming back from my son's home, I realized that I'm holding a lot of conversations with myself in my car and some of what I have to say to myself makes a lot of sense. At least, I think it does.

Now, you may wonder, just what brought about this sudden leap into the technological lion's den of public writing. Well, I'll tell you. Today is Memorial Day. Not a day to remember great, great, Aunt Sarah or weird Uncle Homer. It's a day to remember all those people who have served us all, in this day and and days past in our military. It's a day to remember that, whether they believed wholeheartedly in what they were asked to do or understood what they were asked to do...in OUR name, they did it when OUR leaders told them to. Some of them lived to tell about it. Some of them lived to come home, join the government and become a force for change (hopefully positive :). Some of them lived to come home and become hard working Americans, striving for a better life for themselves and their families. Some of them left their homes to do their duty in a far off country, most likely a hostile country, that doesn't want them there in the first place. Some of them are still there, working hard, doing their jobs and waiting for their turns to come back home.

Some of them didn't come home at all.

Today is the day for remembering....ALL of these people. Because, whether you agree with the stance of our government - and by extension - our own nation, these people are doing a job that we have asked them to do. They are serving in our name and they are fighting in our stead. You may be angry at what they're being asked to do and where - you may feel righteously that they belong exactly where they are - either way, they are doing what we have decided they must do, and they are doing it with pride, fortitude, honor and dedication. They don't have the option to say; "Well, sir...you see, I just can't go along with what you're asking because, it doesn't make sense to me." Their answer is always "Yes SIR!" Unless you've been in the military, I don't think any of us really understand just how hard that is. You're asked to stand in harm's way...you're asked to put yourself at risk...you're asked to do...whatever...and you...can't...say...NO. There's no HR department to complain to and there's no union to back you up. There's no one to fire you and no one to lay you off. You've signed up and you've given up the option. And you do it.

Can you imagine that? I can't. Can you imagine going to bed at night knowing that tomorrow you might be asked to do something you never would have imagined doing as a kid. You might have to order someone ELSE to do something THEY never imagined doing as a kid...or you might be the one who has to make the decision that asking these people to do what no one imagined doing as a kid is the right decision. Think about that for a minute.

I come from a family with a history of military service. My father proudly served this country twice: once in the Navy (and why a long, lean Iowa farmboy chose the Navy from deep in the corn country has always been a mystery to me. They didn't even know what an ocean WAS back then! Ok...I'm gonna catch it from the people in the middle, I can feel it...SAID WITH THE BEST OF MY LOVE FOLKS!! ) and then for over thirty years in the Army Reserves. This man, high school education and nothing more, worked hard and served well and rose up in the ranks to become a Command Sgt. Major. It doesn't get any higher than that as a non-com. The number of people IN that rank are few and far between. And nothing...not his family, not his daily work with the phone company, nothing gave him more pride than putting on that uniform and doing what he did best. He always said that his job gave him a unique opportunity to watch over those enlisted folks under him and do his best by them. He found every way there was to push through deserved promotions and get people who should be recognized, seen. He was an aide to a general who said, at Dad's retirement, that he simply couldn't have done his job without my dad at his elbow. He never served overseas, but he never stopped serving as long as they let him stay in the job.

And then, there were my uncles who both served in WWII. Italian immigrants, the only two of five children to be born on American soil, one served in the European theater and one served in the South Pacific.

Finally, there are my children, who've carried on the tradition as well. My daughter was in the Air Force Reserves when 9/11 hit. Her schooling was interrupted a couple of times while she served as she'd been called but she did what she was asked to do for as long as she was asked to do it. And then there's my son who has served twice; once in the Army Reserves with a long stint in Kuwait and now in the Air Force Reserves where he awaits another deployment, possible sometime this fall. In the meantime, he flies as often as they call him and does the best job he can do. He takes a lot of pride in his work and in the fact that he's serving this country. And I'm extraordinarily proud of him.

When I was a kid, Memorial Day was the day (one of many, actually :) when my father got up in the morning and hitched up the American Flag to the holder outside our front door. It flew all day long and, before the sun went down, he went outside, unhitched the flag, folded it properly and put it away. I remember being impatient once with the care he took of that flag and I remember him explaining to me why it was important to not let it hit the ground or be kept flying after dark. It was a ritual of respect. He didn't yell at me or get angry...he just explained it. That was a lot of years ago. I still remember him saying it and I still remember the timbre of his voice when he spoke. It was the first time I'd ever looked at the flag as something other than a mere decoration, and I've never forgotten it.

Our flag - it's just a piece of cloth with a bunch of stripes and stars stuck on it. Wear it, burn it, make it into coffee mugs. It really doesn't matter. Because, no matter how you find it, no matter what happens TO it...it still symbolizes a country that is, with all our bumps, bruises and warts, the one place where everyone ELSE wants to live. We have a long way to go and we have a lot of things to fix...but when we show respect for the flag as individuals, we show respect for ourselves as well. And maybe my dad's rituals with the flag was more to remind himself of what it stands for, not what it is.

It's Memorial Day, and it's almost over. The sun is drifting down over the bay. In a short while, the dusk will take over and then give way to night. Maybe my 'thotz' have given those of you who spent the day over beer and good steaks, something else to consider. And maybe, those of you who remembered to fly the flag have been reminded to bring it back in for the night.

Them's mah thotz - good night!