A Salute

Memorial Day Weekend always has a certain effect on me. The pool opens, biking replaces driving, dinner includes corn on the cob, and dessert is old fashioned ice cream at Tate's. The air is filled with the blended aromas of sun screen and Off with peonies and roses. My kids' eyes pop a little more against their sun kissed skin and the vibrant colors of summer. And by Sunday evening each year, I'm already thinking of scenarios where I'd never had to work again.

I envision being a wife of leisure - splashing with my kids in the pool every day; nap times when I plow through my summer reading list; adventurous menus for dinner, morning strolls, after noon tennis matches, evening bike rides, cocktails, and time to make friends who will enjoy them with me.

But then Tuesday morning comes, and with it the strenuous pace of life. Fast runs, fast hugs good bye, fast food, fast days.

***

Last week, I was in Seattle for work. I was there to tell a group of franchisees to bring Sriracha in the form of a great new sandwich to their restaurants. The meetings were successful and my agenda received a unanimous vote. I boarded my flight on Tuesday afternoon proud that I was coming home with another win; and one that I was pretty certain would drive significant business results.

Tired from networking the night before, playing homeless dodge 'em during my run through Seattle in the morning, and the ups and downs of Power Point adrenaline in the afternoon, I was ready to nod off in seat 9D. But the conversation between 9E and 9F kept me awake.

There was a mechanical issue on the plane; a part came off the door and it had to be fixed. A half an hour later the mechanics super glued it back on. It had to set, so we were told that we had to wait a little longer. All around me, people were in a huff. They were going to miss their connections to Cincinnati, Des Moines, and Pittsburgh; they wanted to get off the plane; they didn't want to be stuck in Chicago over night; they were hot, they wanted Wifi, they wanted their Tito's now. Please.

9E and 9F never voiced a complaint. They kept on chatting, rolling their eyes as they heard the woman in front of them complain repeatedly about the delay and her inability to get a vodka on the rocks immediately. They were holding puffy manila envelops with the Department of Defense seal in the upper left hand corner.

Between their smirks aimed at the disgruntled passengers, they exchanged some personal information. One had a wife and a kid. The other wasn't tied down; but he was too young to be anyway. One was of Middle Eastern descent, the other a European mut. One hadn't thought about what holiday he would choose for his leave. The other said it would Christmas; he could miss Thanksgiving, but not Christmas. One said that's about when we would be deployed. The other nodded his head.

The super glue finally set; we took off; the woman in front of us shuttered her mouth as she downed her cocktail; my seatmates stuffed their envelops into the seat pocket in front of them and dozed off.

As we started our descent through the clouds, into the hot haze of Chicago, my neighbors woke up and looked out at the Midwestern landscape.

'First time in the Midwest,' 9E said enthusiastically. 'This is going to be one fun summer!'
9F gestured that his ears were stuffed and that he couldn't hear. I guessed it might have been his first flight. So at this point I butted in. 'Really? Well, welcome. The Midwest is flat ... very flat.'
'I see that; that's crazy!'
'Are you in the military?'
'Navy. I'm reporting to Great Lakes tonight.'
'Wow ... You seem so young.'
'Just turned 19. I've been waiting my whole life to do this.'
'Did you just graduate from high school?'
'No last year. Spent the past year getting the paper work in order, getting ready.'
'Wow ... My cousin is in the Army; deployed to Iraq again. She's really high up now. She's amazing. You all are.'
'Thanks. I'm so excited.'
He truly seemed it too.
'My Mom had a real hard time this morning. I told her my whole life I was going to do this, but she took it really hard this morning.'
'I can imagine.'
All I could think about was Bobby.

***

Yesterday morning, I dressed Mary and Bobby in their red, white and blue. We ate donuts together. We rode our bikes over to the parade and lined up on the street to cheer on the Veterans of World War Two, Korea, Vietnam and Persian Gulf. We whistled for the local troops; all noticeably much browner than the lily white onlookers flanking the streets. I bounced Bobby up and down to Sousa's melodies filling the perfectly manicured lawn. Truly the life of leisure. And I thought about my Great Lakes bound seatmates.

I thought about the one kid's mom; the other man's wife and child. I thought about my brave cousin Meghan. And as we walked to get our bikes, dodging the crowd before it disassembled, I waved to the aging Veterans now done with their part of the parade, sitting under a tent. I saluted them with Bobby in my arms, and shouted thank you. A couple words that aren't enough for the incredible sacrifice they made.

My day went on in grand summer fashion. Reading in my Adirondack chair, rescuing Bobby every ten minutes as he face planted in the pool, bike rides, dinner on the screened in porch, ice cream on the lawn. I thought about our life, and despite my typical schedule, how peaceful it really is. And I thought about all our brave soldiers, past and present, particularly the fallen ones, who enable Americana and the leisure it permits to exist. How thankful I am for their role protecting our way of life and the people in it.  

The last thing I said to 9E and 9F on Tuesday night was God bless you. Then I leaned into the 19-year old, and said, 'you know, your Mom is very proud of you.'
'I hope so,' he responded.
'She is,' I told him. 'And never doubt it.'

Lo.