Am I the only American who sniffs back tears when the Star
Spangled Banner is being sung? Maybe it’s the people waving flags, the marching
bands, the crowd or simply the fact that it’s the Fourth of July. And then along
comes another float with the loud speaker disseminating a beautiful rendition
of God Bless America. I’m choked up all over again.
I love watching the dancing
horses, kiddies, ponies, hot cars, a wounded warrior rolling along in her
wheelchair—the works. But why was I the only one to stand up when a marching
band played our National Anthem? No hats came off? Maybe my tears are for
things lost, maybe for good things I hope will come.
My husband and I had a wonderful place to sit. Gina and
Danny had set out chairs along the sidewalk in front of “Just G’s Boutique” in
Morgan Hill.
The parade finished, we said goodbye to family and friends
and began our mile hike back to the car.
Along the way I recognized a parade
participant, the lady in the wheelchair. She was talking to another lady in a
wheelchair and I happened to hear the word, “Afghanistan.” We kept walking for
another block, but something made me turn around and go back. I planned to say
to the woman, “Thank you for your service.”
As I stood by the ladies waiting
for a break in their conversation, a marching band heading back to their bus
suddenly began to play—full throttle. The woman immediately bent forward, head
down, hands over ears. Instinctively I wrapped my body over her, hugging her
tight as she shivered. As the music faded, she began telling herself out loud
that it was OK, and that the parade was over. I stepped back, she saw my camera
and gave a brave smile. I don’t know her name. I know that she is suffering,
and I know how brave she is.
I am reminded that people like this let people like
us enjoy the Fourth of July. God bless our soldiers!
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