The Internet sites, which are usually so active, are fairly quiet because most of our family and friends are heading out for a long Memorial Day weekend. Traffic has picked up considerably here on Bolivar Peninsula, and even though thundershowers are predicted, the enthusiasm for seeing friends, eating good food, playing in the water, boating, fishing, and just hanging in does not seem to be affected.
As we enjoy our time together, let us be reminded of why we celebrate this particular holiday. For some families, my own included, it is one of the most special we have. My dad was killed in WWII on New Georgia Island when I was six months old. I never saw him.
I did have two photographs of him until Ike and I was given all of his medals, including the Purple Heart, but those are now lost to Ike, so I literally have nothing except memories.
I was born on my dad and mom's third wedding anniversary and my folks had "liked each other" and "courted" since third grade of school.
My mom was ill equipped to face a world without him and all of our lives were greatly impacted by his wartime death. She never got over it until the day she died last August. Many families fight the old wars every day of their lives. Some of us think of a little white cross on some faraway island that we've never seen in person.
That's all we have.
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