I adore July 4th. I think it’s the colorful band uniforms and the jaunty nature of the parades that gets me. And, of course, what it all means.
I’m free.
Someone, somewhere in time, bought that for me and I am so grateful. More than I’ll ever be able to express. Both of my grandfathers were in the military, one was a fighter pilot in WWII, the other in the Navy. An uncle was in Vietnam and actually was a funny and endearing man, despite his continued struggle throughout the rest of his life with PTSD.
I had a cousin who fought with a tank division in the first Gulf war and a brother-in-law who briefly served with the Marines. Not to mention my other brother-in-law who is a defender of his local community as a dedicated police officer. My husband, who has never served in an official capacity, but who I know would die for me and our children if it was necessary. And, last but not least, my eight-year-old son who avidly comes to my defense when I’m being tickled. He is already exhibiting that manly ability to see when someone needs to be freed and protected. *grin*
I love that.
Yesterday our town had a parade and, despite the fact that it was pouring rain, people still came in droves like the die-hard, Midwest people they are. I loved it when some veterans strode by how people stood and saluted and cheered and had little tears in their eyes.
So, how about you? Who are your heroes? Post a comment…I would love to hear.