Rethink.

What’s writ­ten below is by David Sul­li­van; with his per­mis­sion I’m repost­ing this so it gets the atten­tion it deserves. I’m aware there are for­mat­ting issues: I’m just happy the thumb­nails work right now.

In Port­land, Ore­gon this past Wednes­day I went to my first Vet­er­ans Day Parade. I served from 1964–1968 on active duty in the Navy, then from 1979 –1996 in the Navy Reserve. This was the first time in 42 years I did not have to work Vet­er­ans Day. Weather was cloudy, crisp, dry. At the stag­ing area I dis­cov­ered that I would walk in the Parade with a cou­ple of friends.

As we approached the mar­shal­ing area there were already a group of vet­er­ans there. It felt as if we had never parted com­pany, although none of us knew many of the others.

By the time the Grant High School march­ing band, Madi­son High Drum sec­tion, and Robert Gray Mid­dle School band arrived along with the cub scouts, we were all talk­ing and laugh­ing as if we had known each other our whole lives.

Soon the politi­cians and dig­ni­taries arrived, and it was time to fall in. We moved out as assigned and walked, rode, marched, rolled along in wheelchairs.

Lots of lit­tle chil­dren with their par­ents, wav­ing flags and sim­ply wav­ing. Also sol­diers, sailors and Marines on the curb, wav­ing. I was proud of my coun­try that day and proud of all the folks who had served before, after, and with me.

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