In Memory

I’ve been a bit nostalgic of late. Caring for Grandma and going through her belongings and photos and listening to tales of family has a lot to do with it. So did the Bazooka Joe wrapper.

So does this date.

Memorial Day.

I came across many photos of my uncle and grandfather in their service uniforms. I remember the map that Grandma hung on her paneled wall behind the rocking chair to track my uncle’s whereabouts while he was in the Air Force. I remember watching the news with Grandma and Grandpa and how they wondered where their son might be with all the turmoil of Desert Storm.

It’s a humbling memory when one remembers that countless families across The States are doing the exact same thing as I write this. Watching, tracking. Wondering.

I’m so incredibly grateful for my freedoms. Freedoms I spent nothing to gain, only having been gifted the divine providence or sheer dumb luck to be born on this side of the ocean and on this piece of land under a flag of red, white and blue.

I am well and truly blessed in these United States of America.

Here in Indiana where I have the freedom to worship how I choose, vote how I see fit, and dream.

Here in the Midwest where I can write fiction and blog posts and put them out for the world to read. Where, when the desire strikes me, I can abandon such activities and without fear for my life get in my vehicle, drive down the road, and watch a movie or go to a concert as a result of someone else taking advantage of their freedom to sit in an office or under an oak tree and make up dialogue lines and music scores and plots and put those creations out in some form for me to see.

I can visit a library and read others’ views and experiences—real or made up—and not fear imprisonment.

Freedom of speech. Freedom to move about. Freedom of thought.

What a wonderful concept.

And thank you to all who’ve served and are serving. Thank you for being willing to put your lives on the line, your families on hold, and give up dreams of your own to serve our great country.

And a special prayer of gratitude goes out for those who’ve lost loved ones, sons, daughters, husbands, and friends to the fight for our freedoms.

You are remembered.

You are appreciated.

Thank you.

Thank you for hanging out for a bit. Check back on Mondays for a new blog or revisit older post on my Archive page. Don't forget to come back on the first Friday of every month for a free fictional short, and be sure to visit my Amazon page.