Our small town has an annual observance of Memorial Day that we habitually attend. The American Legion post, the Boy Scouts and the high school marching band lead a short parade from the fire station to the town cemetery, where a wreath is laid on a monument to Abraham Lincoln and the soldiers who fell during the Civil War.
This year, our two older boys marched with the American Legion, of which Jay was recently elected Sergeant-At-Arms. Matthew helped with the laying of the wreath, (I wish I could figure out why the video of that would not download) and Jay was in the honor guard/rifle salute. It's always a touching morning, but, this year...well, I really enjoyed seeing my boys be thanked for what they've done for this country.
This is what always chokes me up. Not the American flag, although that's a close second. It's the hay wagon with the "old soldiers," those who can't walk the parade route anymore. -sniff-
There they are; on the left, in their ACUs.
I wish I had a dollar for every person who looked at their nametapes and said, "Uh...are you two brothers?"
Our chaplain-pastor was in "dad uniform" today.