I just returned from the annual Memorial Day Services at our local cemetery, in my little town of

JerseyShore PA (situated in north central Pennsylvania). This year's services were poignant. My favorite

 uncle,Jim Mercury, passed away this past March. Uncle Jim was a proud Navy reservist, and a "Tin Can

 Sailor" who served in both the Atlantic and Pacific during WWII.  For many years, he was an active

participant in the annual Memorial Day services.  This year, the Veteran's Council presented a plaque in

 honor of him to my cousins, his sons. Memorial Day was always important to my Dad, an Army Veteran,

gone now since 1996, as well as this uncle and many others.  As a young person, I spent what seemed

to me to be waytoo many Memorial Days marching up a steep hill in the local high school band,

sweltering in a black wool uniform and standing through what seemed to be interminable speeches. I

haven't been to a service for many years, although, like others in my small town, I make sure all the

family graves are adorned with flowers and looking their best---remembering that this holiday was once

"Decoration Day".  It was a shock to see how aged so many of the veterans participating looked. And, of

 course, the WWII vets are dying daily. Even the Vietnam Vets (my generation) look older, receding

hairlines, paunches, and (on two) still the long ponytails, under the military cap.  I was seated near a

grizzled veteran of WWII and Korea, who muttered under his breath about that 'long hair'.  I wanted to 

turn to him, and remind him (gently) that regardless of the hair, or lack of it, they are there--just as a

few young people in uniform were, scattered through the honor guard. I saw the Mother of a young

man from our church, killed in Kosovo. I admired her for her ability to endure yet another service. She

 too was there, giving witness to her history.

  Today's service was beautiful. It was quintessential small town--small towns do these things so well--

complete with a combined band--greyhaired former band members mixed in with high school kids, all

wearing (to their relief, I'm sure) polo shirts and pants. The sky was blue, the temperatures were in the

60's, the birds sang and the sun shone.  I'll spend the rest of the day doing what I like best--puttering

in my garden, cooking a relaxing meal for my family...but remembering that I can live here, in these

United States, and pursue the career I want, as a female, live the way I wish, worship as I please,

dress as I please, vote for whom I please...because of the sacrifice of so many. Happy Memorial Day!