It’s funny how getting older changes your perspective on things. Take for instance Memorial Day. When I was a kid it meant the first official weekend of summer. The lake near town opened for the season and Beach Boy tunes were blasting from the juke box on the porch as skinny girls fed nickels into its slot.

That was back in the 60s. Nowadays I’m having to admit I’m an old man. I applied for Social Security last week and the lake is just a fond memory. Those skinny girls with nickels aren’t so skinny any more. Today, as the weekend approaches, I am thinking a little differently. I’m thinking about a guy that was my hero when I was growing up. He died forty years ago, the day after my birthday. He was a simple man, a farmer – a veteran. He would have been 100 this year and I miss him. He was the smartest guy I’ve ever known for someone without a degree. He could fix anything. He was quiet. Kinda like that E. F. Hutton fellow. He didn’t say much, but when he did he had everyone’s attention. He loved dogs and horses and hats. I guess that’s why I have so many hats in my closet. I always wanted to be like him, but I know I’ve never quite measured up to him. He set the mark high on the wall.

He fought in Patton’s Third Army and saw 269 days of continuous combat. He landed at Normandy a month after D-Day and fought in most of the major battles. He was a gunner in a Sherman tank and it is a miracle he survived and made it back to Mississippi alive. Not only did he make it back, but he befriended a little dog he named Yank and brought him home, too. He always told me Yank was as much a soldier as he was, and I loved to listen to him tell stories about his little dog.

During the heat of battle he once came upon an orphaned boy he saved. For a brief time he and his buddies carried the kid with them until they found a safe, loving family to take him in. They named the boy Blondie because of his long, blonde curls. He often wondered aloud what became of the boy after the war.

Like I said before, it’s funny how your perspective on things change the older you get. Memorial Day these days finds me thinking about the men and women like my hero that fought and died for folks like me. It’s not just about the first day of summer anymore. It’s not about the lake near town opening for the season. It’s about honoring those folks that are serving and have served so we can mindlessly do what we go about doing every day. The day is about them. They deserve so much more.

For those of you that are serving I send my gratitude. Thank you. For those like my hero, my father, I’ll be remembering you with sadness, fondness and a grateful heart.

Daddy, I wish you could have met my daughters and grandchildren. You would love them. They are here because you did what you did years ago. – You and all the rest who fought to protect us.

You are missed and you are not forgotten.

_______________
Rick Algood
May 27, 2016