As Carren mentioned last night, I went to bed early. An afternoon at the lake, preceeded by a church ceremony where the priest decided to blather on about Pentecost, only a brief mention at the end of the service for Memorial Day (no doubt because I happened to be sitting there in uniform--and the guy behind me was earned the Silver Star in Vietnam).
Between the lake and church, I cut the grass across the street.
No, I'm not that good a neighbor. I was even cutting anyone's lawn. I was cutting the knee-high grass in the divider strip. And no, I'm not that civic minded. I was doing was cutting the grass around a memorial site erected at the start of the war. it's not that much, a few flags stuck in the ground, a streamer or two and a message board. But it is a memorial.
to me, it is a more important memorial than all of the marble