Aidan was sixmonthsold. It was a hot July--no rainfull respites. It was hot, and relief came only indoors and in the shade.
I love theme park food. Pickles--bigandoverpriced--funnelcakes--spaghetti with twohugemeatballs....somewhere behind Pompeii, across from the wax roses and cut crystal....Busch Gardens, Williamsburg. If I was going to sit, I might as well eat too...and why not catch a show while we were at it? It was one of those situations in which the show didn't really matter--it could be mud wrestling, and we weren't going to move. The seats and the shade and the cold drinks felt good--the spaghetti too, and Aidan contented himself in his stroller--Hallelujah! All things bright and beautiful--cooler too.
The show was a song and dance review...imagine any theme park amphitheatre, add some flashy costumes and you've got it...my mom loves these things (smile). Okay, I'll admit it, I kind of like them too....only, I'm jaded, so I pretend to play it cool. I pretend not to get excited with "All Night Long." I curl to the side and roll my eyes. I maintain my slouch as the pumped in chorus of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" breaks in, but by the second chorus my toes are tapping right along with everyone elses'...well, except for the woman beside us who has the most unfortunate natural rhythm deficit....
And then what's the only way to wrap up a musical jubilee? With a patriotic stars and stripes song celebration dontcha know. I love my country, but the minute a song goes from patriotic to viral to predictable to an expectation at every county fair, amusement park, icecapades extravaganza....I lose interest.Originality anyone? There are plenty of songs I don't like. "God Bless the USA" is fine by me....as long as we agree to not don bad stonewash, rhinestones, fringe, or bandanna print while we're singing or listening to it. Sorry, I've seen that already--a lot. On a quick digression...I feel the same about the American Flag. I love it. It is beautiful--stunning really. As a bikini, boxer shorts, tube top, beer coozie....not so much. Why ruin a good thing?
Point? Oh, okay. So fast forward through Lee Greenwood's royalty cha-ching into a more somber display. What happened next was just as predictable. You've probably already guessed. "And to thank each of you for visiting the BUSCH GARDENS FAMILY THEME PARK, we'd like to honor America and her servicemen and women by asking them to please stand as we join in singing each Armed Forces Anthem...." Now listen, I'm not as horrible as I sound. Remember, you always have to read to the end....if you leave the game at halftime, you just might miss a hail Mary...you might think you know what I'm going to say, but just wait.
I love soldiers. I don't understand their resolve--their selflessness, but some people say the same about teachers. I don't have to understand them to love and appreciate them. I just don't like the stale, calculated way we celebrate things--holidays--heroes....Why do we wait? Why do we need the pomp and circumstance? Why do we need to don the flag? They'd be happy enough if we displayed it proudly. I know it isn't easy to walk up to someone and say thank you--I know that it is uncomfortable to hug a stranger--but I can't imagine anything about their service was comfortable or easy. I don't know, I'm not a soldier--I'm not that brave--but the one's I know wouldn't care about being part of the show....they would be grateful for the chance to sit back and watch--just like little Aidan.
But here's why you needed to read on.
"From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli...."
He'd been sitting back, leaning into his seat the entire show. He and his wife played peekaboo with Aidan who'd giggled from his stroller. His red Marine Corps hat sat square atop his head--one of few things not wilting in the heat. When the hymn began, I watched his wife's hand slip from where it had rested on his...on the arm of his wheelchair. God bless that man. He gripped the chair's arms, hands shaking the way they do when supporting a body's weight, and with all the honor and pride and strength he could muster, he stood. He stood, not straight, but tall and crooked and strong. He removed his hat, placed it over his heart, and sang not quite with the music--his lips the slightest bit behind the tune.
I knew if I turned toward my mom she would look at me. I knew that if I blinked the tears would spill. When we did look at one another our cheeks were wet. Aidan bounced in his stroller as his mother and grandmother cried, and an old man stood for something that I will never understand. I will never understand, but I will always remember--and in remembering I honor him.
I love theme park food. Pickles--bigandoverpriced--funnelcakes--spaghetti with twohugemeatballs....somewhere behind Pompeii, across from the wax roses and cut crystal....Busch Gardens, Williamsburg. If I was going to sit, I might as well eat too...and why not catch a show while we were at it? It was one of those situations in which the show didn't really matter--it could be mud wrestling, and we weren't going to move. The seats and the shade and the cold drinks felt good--the spaghetti too, and Aidan contented himself in his stroller--Hallelujah! All things bright and beautiful--cooler too.
The show was a song and dance review...imagine any theme park amphitheatre, add some flashy costumes and you've got it...my mom loves these things (smile). Okay, I'll admit it, I kind of like them too....only, I'm jaded, so I pretend to play it cool. I pretend not to get excited with "All Night Long." I curl to the side and roll my eyes. I maintain my slouch as the pumped in chorus of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" breaks in, but by the second chorus my toes are tapping right along with everyone elses'...well, except for the woman beside us who has the most unfortunate natural rhythm deficit....
And then what's the only way to wrap up a musical jubilee? With a patriotic stars and stripes song celebration dontcha know. I love my country, but the minute a song goes from patriotic to viral to predictable to an expectation at every county fair, amusement park, icecapades extravaganza....I lose interest.Originality anyone? There are plenty of songs I don't like. "God Bless the USA" is fine by me....as long as we agree to not don bad stonewash, rhinestones, fringe, or bandanna print while we're singing or listening to it. Sorry, I've seen that already--a lot. On a quick digression...I feel the same about the American Flag. I love it. It is beautiful--stunning really. As a bikini, boxer shorts, tube top, beer coozie....not so much. Why ruin a good thing?
Point? Oh, okay. So fast forward through Lee Greenwood's royalty cha-ching into a more somber display. What happened next was just as predictable. You've probably already guessed. "And to thank each of you for visiting the BUSCH GARDENS FAMILY THEME PARK, we'd like to honor America and her servicemen and women by asking them to please stand as we join in singing each Armed Forces Anthem...." Now listen, I'm not as horrible as I sound. Remember, you always have to read to the end....if you leave the game at halftime, you just might miss a hail Mary...you might think you know what I'm going to say, but just wait.
I love soldiers. I don't understand their resolve--their selflessness, but some people say the same about teachers. I don't have to understand them to love and appreciate them. I just don't like the stale, calculated way we celebrate things--holidays--heroes....Why do we wait? Why do we need the pomp and circumstance? Why do we need to don the flag? They'd be happy enough if we displayed it proudly. I know it isn't easy to walk up to someone and say thank you--I know that it is uncomfortable to hug a stranger--but I can't imagine anything about their service was comfortable or easy. I don't know, I'm not a soldier--I'm not that brave--but the one's I know wouldn't care about being part of the show....they would be grateful for the chance to sit back and watch--just like little Aidan.
But here's why you needed to read on.
"From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli...."
He'd been sitting back, leaning into his seat the entire show. He and his wife played peekaboo with Aidan who'd giggled from his stroller. His red Marine Corps hat sat square atop his head--one of few things not wilting in the heat. When the hymn began, I watched his wife's hand slip from where it had rested on his...on the arm of his wheelchair. God bless that man. He gripped the chair's arms, hands shaking the way they do when supporting a body's weight, and with all the honor and pride and strength he could muster, he stood. He stood, not straight, but tall and crooked and strong. He removed his hat, placed it over his heart, and sang not quite with the music--his lips the slightest bit behind the tune.
I knew if I turned toward my mom she would look at me. I knew that if I blinked the tears would spill. When we did look at one another our cheeks were wet. Aidan bounced in his stroller as his mother and grandmother cried, and an old man stood for something that I will never understand. I will never understand, but I will always remember--and in remembering I honor him.
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