I am going to be the resident 'face painter' at the Botanical Gardens' "Kids Fest" today. Debating about really getting into the proper mood by dressing up: I could put on a bandana and eyepatch, say 'arrggghh' a lot. Or put on the clown costume that I think everyone in the family except Paul has worn. Or put on Paul's shorts that come down past my knees, with some of his red suspenders to keep them from puddling up around my feet.
I've been to Decatur and South Carolina this week. Went up on Wednesday to spend the afternoon on a beautiful fall day planting pansies. Francina and I dug lots of sad, pitiful stuff out of planters on the patio where she works, and put in perennials and pansies. They are definitely more colorful, especially now that they are not full of cigarette butts, where people have used them for ashtrays. I don't know how well they will do over the winter. Maybe the 'upside' of global warming, will be mild weather that won't completely decimate our efforts.
Then, when she got off work, we went to see The Wild Things... based on the Maurice Sendak book that we memorized years ago, when we read it every night... along with being able to quote the first twenty pages of The Cat in the Hat. I tend to get so caught up in being amazed by the special effects (how do they do that?) that I usually leave with the feeling that I need to go right back in and see it again: to actually follow the plot that I missed entirely, due to being fascinated by the technology, instead of paying attention to the story-line.
On Thursday, I went up to SC to visit my penpal in Greenville, a man who served in the Army with my Dad. He had been on the Upstate 'Honor Flight' to DC back in early September, and had photo albums of the trip to Washington. This was not his first time to visit the WWII and other war memorials, but was his first time to fly. What a treat! He was delighted to meet the captain of their charter flight, (who was a female) and see the inside the cockpit.
I met Mr. Homer several years ago, when he called the house in Quitman, trying to find Capt. Fluker. He wanted to invite him to go with a group of vets who were planning to attend the dedication of the WWII memorial. Mr. Homer is in his mid-eighties. Listening to him makes me think about all the things we take for granted: When he went to war, and returned, they travelled on cramped troop ships that took about ten days to cross the Atlantic.
I went with a group of veterans on an Honor Flight from Columbus in late September. There are usually 100 vets per flight, plus medical team, and chaperones to assist the vets during their travels. I was the 'guardian' for a 93 year old man, who was actually born and raised here in Midland, in another century, when it was a farming community. We left Columbus about 8:00 a.m., flew into Baltimore, spent the day touring the mall area, and Arlington cemetery, got back to a huge, flag-waving, horn-tooting welcome about 10:30 p.m. Though we were all exhausted from our very long day, that was really overwhelming. When you think that most of these guys did not return home until all the celebrating at war's 'official' end and partying was over, long after the parades and dancing in the streets: this was their 'Welcome Home' party.
Still makes me a little weepy thinking about: dedication, sacrifice, honor, the price of 'freedom'. Feeling very thankful. And Blessed. I've already filled out the paperwork to go on the next trip, when they plan to take more veterans in April. Interested? http://www.honorflight.org/, connect with a local/regional group, get an application for 'guardian' and go! Or if you know a WWII vet, you better get them on the next flight... check the site for future trips.
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