If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.

tomorrow I won't be online as friends from seattle are coming down. she is surviving stage four breast cancer and has turned her life into a walking blessing. so here are my thoughts on memorial day one day early.

having grown up in a beach town on the north shore of long island, memorial day was a big deal.  this meant school was over and the official beach season opened.  The day was marked with a morning parade, where veteran's marched ( some from WW1) and we all wore red paper poppies and waved small  flags. It seemed uniquely american and small town wonderful as afterwards there were back yard barbecues before we hit the beach. Braving the frigid water of long island sound was an ordeal and even when we turned blue and our teeth chattered we insisted we were not cold when admonished by the adults to come out of the water and warm up.  It also meant lightning bugs were not far away in time and that the barefoot days and late nights playing kick the can or "spud" were right on the horizon.

We didn't think about the people maimed or killed in war. we just thought about a lot of very well postured old guys talking about their war buddies. and of course at ten years of age none of it really sank in. But looking back to the trivial markers we , as children,  put on that weekend seems to strengthen my faith in being an American even when our government gets it all wrong. So while I intensely dislike Bush and his fascist cronies, I  thank all the men and women who served our country, gave limbs and lives and eyes and marriages and peaceful sleep for our country and people and I take a moment of silence and deep reflection about the human capacity to help, forgive, rebuild and prevail. And I hope Flander's Field is covered with poppies. I know mine are growing and doing well.