Rain. Rain rain rain rain rain - as sure as my odds
are at betting, if there's a long weekend to be had, it'll rain.
The one and only party to which I have been invited has been
cancelled. It's supposed to be crappy
for the next few days, and nobody wants to be stuck in a humid house with
guests who can't behave themselves when in enclosed spaces. (We'll go invade the yard when the weather
clears.)
It is Memorial Day weekend, and in addition to paying homage
to those who have served, and those who continue to serve, our country, I will
not abstain from BBQ sauce. Very shortly
the crock pot will be plugged in, and the slow cooking of the pulled pork shall
begin. I have fresh rolls ready and a
Vadalia onion with my name on it.
The best part about this weekend, though, is the chance to
recognize our military. My niece the
Marine will be visiting home (in Maine) for a few weeks. Also home (but in Tennessee to his post and
not truly back to Massachusetts) is my friend's son, who has just returned from
his first tour of duty in Afghanistan. Welcome home, Katie; Welcome home and back,
Michael. There are so many more of
you out there, too, so don't think I've forgotten you (Shelly, Will, Shari,
Bob, friends, friends of friends, relatives, relatives of relatives, relatives
of friends, friends of relatives…) You
are my heroes; my BBQ sauce and I salute you.
But this rain. Ugh. I
used to love to listen to it against the windows, the roof, the ground. Now I simply find the sound of rain to be
annoying and meddlesome. It vexes my
sleep. It messes with my
metabolism. It nullifies and alters
plans. It is, in short, annoying.
This weekend if the rain should annoy you, or parties get
altered or moved, or the BBQ sauce isn't quite right, or your grill gets drizzled
on, or you lose your cable reception and cannot watch the NCAA lacrosse
tournament (although that just sounds like a horror movie in the making), give
yourself a dose of reality. Go talk to a
veteran, preferably one who has seen the disturbing visions at the end of a
scope, and get some perspective. My dad
was a WWII vet - I heard some of the stories while growing up. I heard enough to know he did something I
never could ; he entered a warn-torn country for the greater good.
You may not want to salute the flag, but as long as you're
in my presence and within my eye-shot and ear-shot, you'll at the very least
respect those who do want to salute, those who've served their country and
those who continue to serve.
You may not respect your government, but respect your
country and those who stand on the front lines to keep this country safe and
strong.
Have a happy, blessed, and introspective holiday weekend.
