Memorial Day

This piece is dedicated to SFC Mario Osorio and the men and women of his unit currently serving in Afghanistan.

Friday night my husband Phil and I were grocery shopping, and I noticed that the music playing overhead was patriotic. How sad is it that my first thought was, “Wow, can they do that?”

And why shouldn’t they be able to play patriotic songs on the weekend of Memorial Day? We live in America, the greatest, freest country in the world! Yet there are some who would argue that we are a country of terrorists, breeding more and more of them through our very own military.

Let’s get something straight. The men and women of our military are the reason we, as Americans, have the lives that we do. They are the reason we are free to do and speak as we please, even if we don’t always agree with each other.

When most Americans think of Memorial Day, it’s all about the three day weekend, the picnics, the food, and the Indy 500. These are all wonderful things, but aren’t we missing the point here? The first thing Memorial Day should be about is remembering and honoring the men and women of our military who gave their lives for our country, and who are currently giving their lives and giving up their own freedoms to fight for what is right, protecting the country that they love, and trying to protect others from fanatical leaders who would rather have their citizens slaughtered.

Today should be about honoring a veteran or a soldier that did what the rest of us didn’t or couldn’t do – live their lives so that we as civilians can continue to take for granted everything that we have. The freedom to have the jobs that we want; eat the food that we choose to eat; listen to the music we love to listen to; and live with the comfort of knowing that we have a military that will come to our defense when needed.

Take the time to check your newspaper for events going on in your neighborhood, or check the town’s online website. There are many things we can do to show our veterans and soldiers that we care – that Memorial Day is a day about honoring them, not ourselves.

In a society where our children look up to people like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Marilyn Manson and Snoop Dogg, isn’t it time we taught them who the real heroes are?

© Kathleen Strelow 2007

Seventeen Year Itch... or something like that

It’s been seventeen years since we last saw them, with their red, beady eyes, delicate wings and cockroach-like bodies. Yes, I’m talking about the cicadas. And they’re back.

I have two vivid images of my first cicada experience back in 1973. The entire outside of the house was covered in them, and we had difficulty riding our bikes because the streets, sidewalks and driveways were covered in them. It was like trying to dodge raindrops with your bike – impossible. The crunching sound when you accidentally ran one over still rings in my ears, and I can remember the horrible way they smelled afterward. It’s enough to give me goosebumps even now.

Fast forward to 1990, which was my second cicada experience. I don’t really remember much about them other than they weren’t quite as bad. I had learned that it was probably because of all the new construction that had taken place in seventeen years, and the poor creatures had no ground left to crawl up from. I remember that this made me extremely happy.

A few months ago I sent an article to my childhood friends reminding them that this was the year of the cicada. Recently, my friend Patti started sending me delicious cicada photos – cicada sandwiches, cicada sundaes, cicada salads… you name it. It got to the point that I was going to vomit if I saw another cicada used as food. She did send me a photo of cicada jewelry… now there’s an idea!

May 22nd was supposed to be D-Day for the cicada arrival. Everyone I know was prepared for the cicada invasion on this day, two days ago. Nothing. What? No cicadas? Did they get lost? Has our bitterly cold May caused them to stay underground longer than expected? Where could they be?

Not so fast. I had my first cicada sighting yesterday while on my morning break/walk. There it was, on the sidewalk in front of us. It wasn’t frightening at all. It wasn’t hurting anyone and was just sitting there. It was probably looking up at us hoping we wouldn’t trample it to death. Strangely enough, I was almost excited to finally see one.

I’ve decided to make peace with the cicadas this year. As soon as I see one on my own property (not one so far), I will take a picture of it and post it here. I’m hoping that when the cicada infestation finally does happen, I won’t turn back to my 1973 self and freak out…

© Kathleen Strelow 2007