Dad In Uniform...For Memorial Day 2018

I've shared all these photos before. But since it's Memorial Day, I wanted to honor my father again. I don't have many pictures of my dad--I think these are my favorites.

My father served near the end of WWII in Europe. He was a tail gunner on a B-17, something that garners much respect when I tell servicemen familiar with just how dangerous that particular duty station was.



I think I love these pictures so much because of the unknowns. I never had the opportunity to talk to my father about what happened, never asked him what it was like to be in that flying soup can, never discussed whether or not he was scared, or if he even saw action. The unknowns haunt me and so I imagine what it must have been like.

I know I'm probably imagining only positive things. From what I've been told, many veterans don't like talking about their experiences, and perhaps I'm romanticizing his adventures, making them more than I should. Still, without having the opportunity to hear it from the man himself, and since most likely everyone of his B-17 crew is now gone, I've only got the memories of others as a reference.



I've shared all these photos before. But considering what these men and women did so that I could live the life I've lived, fewer things are more important. Happy Memorial Day Dad, and everyone who served and sacrificed for all of us.

Visiting Mom And Dad...

This is the weekend my siblings and I gather at the local cemetery and place flowers on the headstones of our parents. We also take a couple of pictures, one of the siblings and one of our kids, and now, their kids.

It was especially nice today. The overcast skies made for a pleasant meeting. The cemetery was full of color, tokens of love and memories. We added roses from home and mixed them with the ones already donated by my brother and sister and their families. We caught up, watched my niece's son explore the surroundings of a place he could not possibly understand, all as the stone with my parents's name etched into the stone lay on the ground before us.

The longer I live in this community, the more names I recognize. It seems each time we have our little mini family reunion, we see someone from our past, someone who knew our parents. There's probably more people in the cemetery who knew my dad than are still alive. My mom, however, that's not the case. Today we ran into a past neighbor and star athlete in high school. It was fun catching up.

After we took our pictures and promised to meet at a future date, we loaded up our van and headed home. Of my siblings, I'm the closest to my parents's final resting place. On any given week I drive past the cemetery several times, but I usually only stop and walk the several feet from where I park my car to their graves twice a year--on Memorial Day and on my mom's birthday in October. 

Our Memorial Day tradition began back when my mother was alive and only one name appeared on the stone. Decades earlier, back when plots were still available in our local cemetery, my parents bought five, two for them and one for each of their children. I have no idea what the future brings, but I'd like to think our children continue the tradition and not only visit their grandparents, but also their parents. I hope they stand together and pose for a picture and that their children will do the same.

It's amazing how time works. In the decades and perhaps, centuries that are to come, the headstones will slowly erode and eventually disappear. But on a spring day with clouds protected us from the heat and glare, a few people who owe their lives to the ones no longer with us, met and chatted and renewed the bond of family.