Having a life means something left behind...

in the past. I got my 'I love me military memories on display' from the framers yesterday. I am pleased with the product, and it hangs on my wall. Just wish some of the dreams would go and hang there with it, but those are unworthy of viewing. It was important to have something for my son's future.

My grandfathers and father are gone, and having seen how poorly the current culture communicates - they don't even eat dinner together without a cellphone to text upon - I don't think anyone will know who they were. Even in History class, they teach it like our culture can seamlessly overlay what was important and critical in their lives. And the current culture had problems with the culture of those two earlier generations.

One idea was to remake the board my father made from his uniform, remembering the units and job he had in WWII, Pacific Theater, combat Engineer in the assault on Leyete and invasion of Okinawa. It will be done. My grandfather Smith, serving in the Great War, France and a driver in a Medical unit. He spent most of his life working for peace, working with the refugees in the Spanish Civil War and other major conferences. His military records would have been burned up in that fire, but I understand there is some veterans record in California of his service.

There aren't any pictures of his military service in my possession, but he wouldn't have been concerned about that. I once ran marathons, because I had started jogging as road work for getting strong enough for three minute bouts in a dojo. And my experiences were very personal, I was really proud of them, and I was so slow on my first marathon in Pittsburgh a fourteen year old girl that had paced with me for about five miles, smiled and said she had to go and left me in the dust. Crushing my ego, ha, ha!

Anyway, my last marathon was in Korea with the 2nd Infantry Division, and I won a trophy plaque - that was supposed to be awarded by a General, who had departed because I was so slow.... There were only three old men in our age group, and I was second. All the other members of my unit stuck around and made sure I got my award and we had happy talk all the way back to Seoul in the vehicles. As Command Sergeant Major in Germany after the first Gulf War, it was stolen from my office by a wanna-be or some upset hater that thought he should ruin my life by swiping it from my wall. I have all the memories, I don't need the trophy.

In the end, my memories sustain me, much more than the photographs, the old letters, the emails, and cards. But my memories go with me into the afterlife... I would like to have had my father with me to talk to my son about the world he is going through - an inside joke was that the three of us should have sat around with something to drink and talk about women and marriage before my son got married.

It would have been something... he died before his fiftieth wedding anniversary, my son and I had our last time with him at his home before my son went off to Spain for three years... and since he was ill, it wasn't as cool a memory as all my other ones about him.

To all you reading out there, spend more time in contact, honest and caring, it is better than almost everything else you can give the next generations.