Isn’t this a nervous kettle of pickerels. Last night’s Memorial Day broadcast had to be suspended in mid program because of threatening weather – and by the time you read this it may be even more stormy here.
‘Twas a beautiful afternoon on Sunday – and our 59th Anniversary so we did something special. We snaked our way downtown through one way traffic to park near the Hyatt…expecting to have a nice extravagant luncheon only to find they were (are) remodeling the entrance to the hotel and had just disassembled the luncheon deal by the time we got there. Oh well… better luck on the 60th Anniversary NEXT year.
That’s an optimistic thing to saddle a couple of old folks with isn’t it… There may not BE a next year (at least not here.) We’re in that group of ‘young elders’ who generally don’t buy green bananas lest they don’t live long enough to enjoy them. (J) Cheerfulness wins – right? Well – most of the time.
We feel this is an important day for the Nation. And we need to contribute to it. But I’m learning to type on a new keyboard where the spacing for the backspace is a *little* too far to reach so I’m hitting the wrong key too frequently (see I did it again and have had to come back to correct…) ah well… another obstacle to be honored in the observance rather than the breach….
Hope you have – or have had – a nice holiday weekend and didn’t get rained out on the beach. F’gooness sake the tropical storm season (aka hurricane season) isn’t officially supposed to start for five or six days yet. (L) Maybe the weather bad apples not getting in their shots for winter have saved a few for summer… think so?
Anyway… come again tomorrow we’ll be back at the same stand.
Cordially, IN HIM
Lady Barbara and Jack
“JUST A MINUTE”
MAY WE REMEMMBER OUR HEROES
Just a Minute: Lt.Col. John McCrae, a Canadian poet -- professor of Medicine, , wrote a poem after burying one of his soldiers which has become possibly best known used to honor all veterans even though McCrae thought it insignificant and discarded it. Now widely used it commemorates all fallen heroes everywhere and the wearing of red poppies in remembrance…
In
In
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In
<> I’m Jack Buttram. (END)
Jebco Editorial Service
E-mail n4zhk@arrl.net
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