The weeks news. Moved in, a trip we won’t repeat, and memorial Day
“It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain,” is a phrase I shall not be using any longer. Instead, it has been a little over a week of unpacking, furniture hunting (they’re very shy and elusive) and eating out because the kitchen has been a mixture of unpacked boxes and dug out cookware from the motorhome. We made it safely to New England, where I was born, spent my childhood, and joined the Navy, in what seems like a lifetime ago. We are settling in to our new home, though it is an exhausting and slow-seeming process. The house is small, though bigger than the cabin we left behind. The dogs have settled in, while the cats, one in particular, had a bit of a struggle adjusting to the larger space. She is now starting to find her way and is becoming a part of the family once again. Our trip is something I wouldn’t want to repeat again in this lifetime, or any other for that matter. It started with one of the axles on our big trailer snapping in half before we had even gotten out of the state of Idaho. We ended up renting a trailer which left us having to hurry across the country instead of the slow, leisurely trip we wanted, taking our time and exploring some of the things I have passed by all the years I hauled freight across this country. Then, we had rain and high winds from Wyoming all the way across South Dakota, and I fought the 40-foot motorhome every mile until my shoulders and arms were on fire for days afterwards. Before we made it out of Iowa, after spending a little over a day with the lovely wife’s family, one of the wheels on the little trailer came apart. Luckily, we had a spare, but still had to have someone come out with the tools to change it. The trip is behind us now, and we are both thankful it’s over, vowing to never move again now that we’re here. We are now hanging pictures, some that have been packed up due to lack of wall space in the cabin, and others we purchased at an estate sale before we left Idaho. Books are also coming out of boxes, as well as nick knacks, again, some of which we had out at the cabin, and others that haven’t been out in years. There’s also the belly of the motorhome left to unload, and that will happen once we finish with the boxes from both of the trailers. Soon, we will be able to relax, maybe even take a short trip to the coast to visit my old stomping grounds, and possibly look up people I used to know. We’ll see how the summer plays out, but for now, we are just happy to be in our new home. It’s memorial day weekend, a time to reflect on those we lost overseas in the many conflicts over the years. There was a service in town today, one of many in the surrounding area, I’m sure. We didn’t attend but heard Taps being played somewhere nearby. I don’t need a day to remember, I live with it every day. We unpacked more boxes and enjoyed the beautiful day. I will, however, leave you with a poem I wrote a few years ago for this day. The Ghost Taps last note has 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 life I gave?Will anybody even care?That I fell that fateful day?Will anyone come by here?Now that I’ve 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.Those of us that stand here,Will come here once a year,And remember all you did for us.For we hold our freedom dear. And those of us that served with you Shall remember every day,Your laughter, love and kindnessWill never fade away.So rest in peace there my young lad,You answered freedoms call,And know that we shall not forgetThose who gave their all. That’s all the news. Bye for now.
