Memorial Day

I was raised in a small suburb of Chicago.  Even though it was in the middle of all the suburban hub bub, it had a very small town feel.  There is  a homecoming parade which people come out to see.  There is a main street where there are picturesque antique shops.   The beach laps up to the shore just down the hill from main street.  I did not fully appreciate my small town while growing up there. I could not wait to get out and spread my wings and fly.  Now looking back I realize, in some ways I grew up in a Norman Rockwell painting.  Although I have no desire to ever move back there (winter there sucks) it was the perfect place to grow up.

One of the fond memories I have is of memorial day.  There is a full out parade with the marching band, fire trucks, convertibles, etc.  We would try to make it every year.  I say try because the running joke in my family was, "We have to hurry, if we are late we will miss it."  It was true.  The parade was very short.  I loved the parade.  I have to admit it was not for the patriotic reasons.  I wanted the candy they threw off the fire trucks.  The shower of candy raining down on the children was the first sign that summer was on it's way.  It was the stuff childhood dreams are made of, candy falling from the sky.

The parade ends at the memorial park.  Where people stand for what feels like hours in my childhood memories, then names are read off, wreaths are set out and honor is paid to the veterans.   I never appreciated this part the way I should have.  I mean these men and women risked their lives protecting our freedoms.  No matter how one feels about the current war, I believe soldiers deserve our honor and our gratitude.   However, at the time all I could think about was how to get my candy unwrapped without my parents hearing the crinkling wrapper. It was a challenge I never conquered.

So this morning I thought it would be a great idea if I took my son to a memorial day parade.  I thought he would love the band, the fire trucks, the motorcycles, the gun shots, etc.  He was completely non pulsed at the whole thing.  Couldn't have cared a lick about it.  The flag kept him entertained for a bit.  Then right as the veterans walked past he up and chucks the flag right over the edge of the stroller on the ground.  

"You mean to tell me there is a parade coming.  Say what?"

"I will look really hard in the opposite direction."

"Still don't get this parade idea."

"Oh, there it is.  I get it."

It hit me as I was sitting there.  I am living the American Dream.  Raising a family in America.  Instilling in my son my faith, my patriotism, my family values, and my beliefs.  I am able to do this because of veterans from years past who protected my freedoms.  Veterans who stood up and protected the virtues and principles on which this country was built.  My heart swelled with pride.

"Ok.  Still totally unimpressed."

"Who cares about the parade.  I'll watch my flag instead."

My heart swelled with pride when the crowd stood and applauded the veterans walking in the parade.  I was proud to be an American.  Proud that I was passing on the memorial day traditions to my son.  Proud to show him that he is my son because momma knows how to pick the shortest parade possible.  It is true.  This parade was even shorter than my hometown's.   Which worked out well because it was 99 degrees when we got back to the car.