Monday, May 31, 2010

Proud. American.

The band plays. The guns fire, loudly. I flinch. The flags ripple in the wind. Hundreds of them, rippling. The jets roar overhead in perfect pattern and one peels off, heavenward, disappearing into the clouds.

The World War II veteran is introduced. He stands slowly, planting his feet firmly underneath him. He walks to the podium.

He speaks clearly and resolutely, occasionally flashing his still-brilliant smile. He tells of Germany and concentration camps and of soldiers who remain forever young, never having a chance to live their own lives of freedom.

His address over, he walks to his seat. His eyes widen with surprise as he turns to see a crowd on its feet, applauding with appreciation, but not just for his words.

He nods in acknowledgment of the ovation and smiles again. A quiet smile, yes.

I wave my little flag high into the air. That's my Dad, I say.

That's my Dad.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad, Paddy. Or Paddington, if you prefer the more formal approach.

Location:Wildwing Dr,Woodland,United States

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