esrosedotblog

OVERFLIGHT

A WWII propeller version of the Blue Angels went over this afternoon for the Veteran's Day Parade.

I suddenly realized why there is no mail out there! It is a holiday.

How soon we forget.

How prozaic. WWI. The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th year of the last Century. When I was in elementary school, we would all be silent at that time every year.

Then, some old fart would make blowhard speeches at us about patriotism and sacrifice. Ours, not his. We were the up and coming red-meat.

Now, it doesn't mean a lot, that First Big One.

I honor veterans of all wars. I am almost one (not enough time) and live with one. I was the son of a wounded veteran.

But, somehow I don't get the celebration of it all. The parades. More about old people sending young people to make the same sacrifice over the same issues. And now we are making new veterans every minute, over 'there'.

But, let's hear it for the flyboys.

They did stop me long enough to think about it all.

My Veteran's Day minute.