Everyday Humility

I'm not going to disrespect The Drummer's thread, but I hate these holidays.

My favorite graves are those of the unknown soldiers. In Biloxi, I visit unknown confederate soldiers. Unknown on the losing side. They paid too.

The cost of freedom is buried, and should be an everyday consideration, not resigned to silly days the Fed says bankers and postmen and schoolteachers don't have to work.

Our freedom is a great responsibility on us everyday. If it were up to me, we'd have a moment of silence November 11th and spend the rest of the year honoring the cost of freedom by getting to work.

So enjoy your day off slack asses!

my favorite grave..that i cannot unfortunately visit is my brother's..i spend this day more so than any other reflecting on his many contributions he has made in his career to this country.. and our time together when id visit him in Cali and he'd take me on base to hang and be part of his work and his people...these memories are what make's this day so emotional for me..

i have a glass of jack for him...sittin on my bar..and thats where i will be most of the day..having a drink with him...and reflecting, crying and telling my people about him..

or after every thunderstorm, tornado or natural disaster we have someone starting a thrAD to showcase and tell us how" thoughtfull and caring" they are to be reminding us to keep them victoms in our thoughts and prayers

and to remain safe through our upcoming thunderstorm..

well.................... what the fuck? majority are going to do that naturally anyways....................... .................... in silence

some things just dont need to be constantly exploited

i have a glass of jack for him...sittin on my bar..and thats where i will be most of the day..having a drink with him...and reflecting, crying and telling my people about him.. Originally Posted by anita germane

Thank you to your brother from myself.
Drink that Jack slowly and savor it.
Then pour yourself at least one more.

Desert Storm was a bitch, endless waiting and then fierce fighting.

I honestly don’t know the day it ended but I do know when it ended for Bob.
I see the sweat on his forehead and thought holy shit that sucked.
Our mouths were dry as hell and we wanted to scratch our eyes out they were so itchy.
We both looked at each other and smiled. Both thinking the same damn thing, we are alive.

A few hours later our LT. came up and gave us a warm beer to split, I asked for a smoke
and he handed me a half of a cigar that he fumbled out of his shirt pocket. “All I got” he said.
Bob and I split the beer and smoked that nasty ass cigar laughing like a couple of 12 year old
school girls talking about what we would do when we got back, How many women we are going
to have sex with because we both know that we could have our pick (Foolish children we were)
I picked Morgan Fairchild.

Then we were off to another fight
I don’t need to go into details about the fight we were in; they all seem about the same.
They last forever and seem to be 5 minutes. If you have ever been there you know what I mean.
Bob was shot 3 hours later he died in my arms.
It took a while for him to die; I stayed with him of course, talking about how he was going to make it.
I seen his eyes clouding up, He asked me if he was going to die, I looked at him,
smiled and gave him a hug and kissed his forehead, Held him tight, “Not alone” I said.

I have a warm beer every year, I drink half. It is hard to drink it down, Not due to the taste.
I hate this holiday, I am jealous that people are in the park cooking and laughing and having a great time,
I sit and clean my windows, Steam clean my carpets, plant my garden away from everyone.
I wait for the phone to ring, It does every year.

I always know the sound of the ring. His daughter looks just like him.