Memorial Day
"It's a time to remember the Veterinarians"* My Dad is buried at the National Cemetery in Jacksonville. It has become a kind of sanctuary for me. I love to go and sit at the base of my father/mother's headstone. I cry [of course]. I run my hands of the granite feeling each letter of their names. And I look around me at all the names of people who have served our country. Just to the right of Dad's grace, the marker says, "I did my best." As epitaphs go, I'd say that one is short, sweet and to the point. I did my best. If at the end of the last day each of us can look at our Creator and say, I did my best, then I believe that is a life well-lived. Maybe it's not a life without regret, or sorrow, or pain, but undoubtedly one of truth. On Saturday morning I joined Boy Scouts from Pack 541 and some attending adults in placing a small flag on each grave in a Memorial Day tribute. Before we actually began the work, a retired Marine who was heading up t...