Dear Whoever Lives In The U.S.,                                               7/3/11

     *Before I get into my title above^ I’d like to just say I have a totally legit excuse for not writing yesterday. I was celebrating my friend’s birthday with her at the beach. And before you guys make me feel bad about it I’d like to tell you that I’m already in pain and paying for it. I, yes, ate crap, because those waves were friggin huge and stupid me dove under them too late resulting in me doing unvoluntary sommersaults as I was drug across the sandy floor of the beach, finally ending up will me being deposited on the shore with my friend’s friends laughing at me then asking if I was okay. My face hurts really bad as well because I decided oh it’d be fun and memorable to get nice and unburned, my face taking the worst (sarasm in case you didn’t catch it).  So please don’t make me feel too bad about not writing cause I think I’m paying for it enough. Now on to what this post was supposed to be about.

     If you are an American, I salute you. Our country was not like England or Spain or all those other countries were we have absolutely no idea where they come from. We know were we came from. We know how our country was made. Therefore we also know the lives that were lost and the sacrifices made that are part of our country’s history. We know of the wars and of our brave soldiers who give their lives for our freedoms and rights. But sometimes I doubt that we really know what they mean. I know some kids in the US go with their schools to visit our capital and I have. I know there are many memorials there and many walls with names carved in them, but most people don’t think about that each name on that wall, was a person. They had a life, family, friends, goals, hopes, wishes, and such. They weren’t much different than you and I but yet they died and most people look over their name and not even think about their life. What about all those names marked Unknown? Or allof our people that were died and buried on foreign soil? Think, when you die, you might be creamated and released or kept, you might be buried and flowers placed over you, looked over. What about them? They got no funeral. Their families were not there to say goodbye,  they are one of many, plain white or grey stones, placed in neat rows in a cemetary called Arlington. But they died with something, they died with their honor and their hope. Their honor they earned and paid for with their life, the honor they certainly deserve. They died with hope that other’s would take their place they had fell from and continue on what they started. Protecting and fighting for our freedom so that we may live the way we do.

     Tomorrow is the Fourth of July and while you are eating watermelon or staring up at the sky that is bursting with color, more are falling under a truly bursting sky. Remember them and take a minute out of your busy life to whisper a quick prayer for the troops fighting, the fallen who have fought, and the ones who have fought and survived, take a second and thank them and thank God that you’re still here, on this earth, relatively unharmed amid a scratch or too. That’s all I ask is a quick prayer, blessing, and thank you to all those who have given.

     I recently got a email and in it had this poem and I promise(I said swear and backspaced because it is Sunday) not many things will make me cry especially by reading them but I was prettty close while reading this poem that was inside:

I watched the flag pass by one day,

It fluttered in the breeze.

A young Marine saluted it,

And then he stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform;

so young, so tall, so proud.

With hair cut square and eyes alert,

he’d stand out in any crowd.

I thought how many men like him had fallen through the years.

How many died on foreign soil;

how many mothers’ tears?

How many pilots’ planes shot down?

How many died at sea?

How many foxholes were soldiers’ graves?

No, freedom isn’t frees.

I heard the sound of Taps one night,

when everything was still.

I listened to the buglar play,

and felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times,

That Taps had meant ‘Amen’.

When a flag had draped a coffin,

of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,

of the mothers and the wives,

of fathers, sons, and husbands

With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard

at the bottom of the sea.

Of unmarked graves at Arlington.

No, freedom isn’t free.

 

     Now I don’t know what that poem is called or who it is by but I hope you took a minute to read it and didn’t just pass it by. I thank whoever wrote it for doing so because it paints a picture even if to some it cuts a little close. It opens eyes and tells the story of the many who can’t anymore. Say a prayer tonight, tomorrow, or any day really, because without them where would we be? Say a prayer but don’t ask for things instead give thanks for all the lives that have paid for your freedom because, like in the poem, they weren’t free.

     And I love this poem because one day I might just be part of the subject. I want to join the Special Forces when I’m older if they accept me. Also, my cousin has been on three tours in Iraq and has returned all of them or so I know. I think he might have went back again and I haven’t talked to his mom lately so I don’t know how he’d doing recently.

     I’m trying to make my blog better by adding pictures to my posts realating to my posts but I don’t know how. I tried to add a picture of the American flag to this one but it didn’t work and I don’t know how, so I’m sorry.

“God bless America” has never been so true.

                                                                                                             An American, eshy, 

 

 

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