Here are a few more pictures of our trip to Massanutten.
I’m showing this picture for Heidi over at Hick Chic. Honestly, when I climbed on the beast, I though I would need oxygen from being so high up and from hyperventilating from fear of not having on a seatbelt or a safety net under me.
I did find out that it takes a whole new set of muscles to ride a horse, and a strong back. I felt like I had an ice pick sticking in my lower back and at the juncture of my right leg and hip. But the ride was fun. I just wonder how long I would have to hurt just to be able to ride without pain.
The next day we toured Washington, DC and Arlington Cemetery. Did you know that perform over 20 military funerals there every day? You could hear weapons going off every few minuets. This is one for, I assume, an old veteran because of the age and number of attendees. But it was still very moving.
Directly across from this funeral is the place we place in honor of the 74 lost when my ship went down. The tree behind me was also planted in their honor and it was just a sprig when it was planted.
The strange thing is…I found out I am becoming a pussy in my old age. Just after the picture was made I looked down and had a flashback to my days at sea. I saw the mess decks above where I use to sleep. I saw her lean heavily to Starboard and I could hear the noise of grinding metal and the cries of confusion and fear coming from my compartment plus the guys on the mess deck swilling the ever present cup of coffee. I imagined quiet a bit and before I knew it I was crying. I don’t know why. I never have before. My grandson came over and hugged me and said, “It’s okay, Paw Paw, it is sad.” God I love that boy.
When I kind of got myself under control, the burial guard was beginning to load their bus to go to the next funeral or to the barracks or where ever. So I walked over to them and shook a couple of the men’s hand and thanked them for what they do for the boys, and the tears started again. They understood and patted me on the back and thanked me for my service and for acknowledging them. As a rule they go unnoticed until the fire the salute.
My grandson walked with his arm around me for over half a mile, till I could get a look at Arlington House, where Robert E. Lee lived. He only spent a total of around 5 years there, as he was stationed all over the country. How he fathered all his daughters, I’ll never know. Well…I do know, but how he had the time is the question. It was being renovated so I couldn’t go inside.
I took this for America’s 1st Sergeant, Mike. I was amazed at how big the thing is, but then it would have to be to fit the Marine ego. I just found out a few weeks ago, while googling military stuff, that he doesn’t call himself America’s 1st Sgt. because he thinks of himself as that (then maybe he does). But it is because he is with the 3 Marines, 3 Division which is nicknamed “America’s Division.” Live and learn.
I’ll try to show some more pictures later…I heard that. Stop yawning and moaning. Until then, this is the newly realized pussy turning control back over to you. Sniff, sniff.
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