The weeks news. We pause to remember those who gave all.

It’s been a quiet week up here om the mountain, my little slice of heaven in the great northwest.

Our spring rains have arrived, a month late, but we’re happy to see them, and hope we get our normal rainfall this year. Because we haven’t had much rain, fire season, the last few years, has been getting worse. As a result, I have been cutting some of the trees closest to the cabin. I heard the forestry service say that ten feet between trees would help in the event of a forest fire to lesson the risk of losing your home. I have enjoyed the trees around my cabin since I moved here, and I am sure some creatures make their homes in them. However, I enjoy my home more than the flora and fauna, so I have been thinning them out and clearing downed, semi-rotted logs.

It’s Memorial Day weekend, and for most people, it’s the unofficial start of summer. BBQ’s and beach time will happen, many hot dogs, hamburgers, coleslaw’s, and potato salads will be consumed.

But for the veterans, it is a day to remember those we left behind, those who left our shores and never saw their families again. From the trenches in France, to the desert sands of the Persian Gulf, we have fought and died. Many are buried in graves on foreign shores, having given their lives in the service of their country. Others came home, but could not handle everything they saw or felt, and later, took their own lives. We pause to remember them this weekend, we thank the dead, and reach out to those who still suffer the effects of war. PTSD is a killer, and far too many of our young veterans are being lost every year, every bit as much a casualty of war as those lost in combat.

A few years ago, I was asked to write a poem for this day, and read it in front of a crowd at a memorial service for those brave men and women. Here it is.

THE GHOST

Taps last notes have faded,

The mourners moved along.

Yet one young lad still stands there,

Quiet in the dawn.

‘Tis the ghost of him that’s buried,

Standing by his grave.

Will anyone remember me?

Or the sacrifice I gave?

Will anyone come visit here,

Now that I have passed away?

Yes, son, we will remember,

Those of us that live.

Your sacrifice we shan’t forget,

You gave all you had to give.

And those of us that stood here,

Will come back again each year,

To remember all you did for us,

For we hold our freedoms dear.

And those of us that served with you,

Shall remember every day,

Your laughter, love, and kindnesses~

Those things won’t fade away.

So rest in peace my young lad,

You answered freedoms call,

And know that we shall not forget,

Those souls that gave their all.

by Benjamin M Scribner