Remembering Those Who Serve(d)

A red, white, and blue buffalo seemed appropriate for this Memorial Day. Plus, I took this photo last fall in Montana, while there to scatter my dad's ashes. Memorial Day was one of his favorite holidays for two reasons. First, it was a day to remember his older (and only) brother who died in the Korean War. Second, the Indianapolis 500 is always run on the day before Memorial Day. Dad loved the Indy, and one year drove out to watch the time trials. Dad wasn't a veteran, but this seems as good a day as any to remember him a bit more closely.

Hmm?

Chinese food on Thanksgiving and Christmas Eves is another family tradition; this was my fortune from last night's dinner. Perhaps this is not the time to say that my Christmas presents included an unsuccessful attempt by the sons to purchase one of the guns sold after my dad's death. Let's just say that if I encounter the problem of having too much free time, I have several new books, fiction and crafty, and several new yarns with which to fill it. And a new gun, a near duplicate of the one that was Dad's favorite.

Farewell in the Wind

From the north bank of the Missouri River, overlooking where Box Elder Creek flows into the river. With Frank Sinatra singing "My Way," we scattered Dad to the winds this morning. The Subway napkins we found littering the area afterwards confirmed that we'd picked the right spot.

My Legs Really Were Shorter Then

At Giant Springs, now Giant Springs State Park, Montana. This used to be a huge hill, up which I would trudge and down which I would run with the wind or even stop, drop, and roll. The hill now seems more of a mound, and I did not run with the wind or roll down. I sat instead at the top and reflected upon lifetimes, Dad's and my own, until the others happened my way and I rejoined the here and the now.

Dad Would Be So Proud

I completed a class today that meets the educational requirement for a concealed handgun permit in Virginia. Unlike the one I completed for the permit I already possess, today's class actually included real handguns and the firing thereof. Dad would be proud that it was a National Rifle Association class, the political activities of the NRA being something on which we somewhat disagreed. This one's for you, Dad.

It's Still Monday If I Have Not Yet Gone To Bed

It's been a rough day, but not as bad as the day(s) had by the stink bugs resting in the acetone lining this empty cat litter container. More have been sucked up by the vacuum cleaner. As for the rough day, a year ago I was in Florida saying good-bye to my Dad.

As He Lay Dying ...

... my dad asked me how I usually style my hair, which had grown long since the last time he'd seen me. I told him I often wore it in a ponytail, as I had in his favorite childhood photo of me. He didn't comment; he just smiled.

Great Minds Run in the Same Direction?

My stepmother and I independently had the idea of scattering at least a bit of Dad, in the form of his ashes, in Montana on the first anniversary of his death. Dad always spoke fondly of his years in Montana, so I hope he'll be happy resting there. It will also be interesting for me to wrestle with overlaying childhood memories with current appearances. I expect there to be some discrepancies in size.