Memorial
Memorial Day is Monday and as a baker I, of course, am working. So I thought I'd get this out now.
Last March I lost my last two uncles. They were 92 and 87, they lived well and died peacefully in their sleep.
Uncle Lloyd was the youngest and the funniest. He taught me the floating finger trick, made his stuff animals talk and always had a really bad joke to tell. He and his first wife adopted a 15 year old girl, who I only met once at their house, then again years later when Lloyd was getting married to his last wife. She seemed uncertain where to sit, but I told her family sits in the first 3 rows and brought her there. She was by Lloyd's bedside on his last day.
Lloyd is the one I look like - exactly, so I kept an eye on him as he aged. He kept all his hair, stayed farly slim, and always had a nice outlook on life. His glass was always half full. I'm the only one in the family who ever enjoyed his jokes. They were really, really bad and I still tell many of them.
Lloyd served in the army during WWII but because he could play the drums he was stationed in Maine with a club band for the duration. He never succeeded to get his brother George to talk about the war.
George was in the second wave at Normandy and was later transferred to Patton's 3rd Army. He was part of the counter attack at the Battle of the Bulge. He was wounded twice in the leg and had to wear a brace for the rest of his life. Like most vets George never talked about battles only about certain people or some funny situations. He went to the 50th anniversary of D Day and opened up a little. Mainly, he said he wasn't a hero or brave, he just survived. People fell to his left and right but he kept going. He said the heroes are the ones buried there, he was just lucky.
George never complained about anything serious, and he never liked people thanking him for anything. He would look down and change the subject. He helped a lot around his church and later took care of Aunt Helen when she came down with Alzheimer. I saw him 3 days before he died. We talked about the new light rail line to Big Lake, going to the new Twins stadium and news about other family members. That night he told mom that we talked about "guy stuff".
Two military men were at George's grave site for the burial. Taps were played and guns were fired. They then folded the flag from his casket and presented it to mom and said something like "On behalf of the United States please accept this flag as a sign of our thanks for his service." And I lost it. This was the first time George couldn't stop someone from thanking him.
Last March I lost my last two uncles. They were 92 and 87, they lived well and died peacefully in their sleep.
Uncle Lloyd was the youngest and the funniest. He taught me the floating finger trick, made his stuff animals talk and always had a really bad joke to tell. He and his first wife adopted a 15 year old girl, who I only met once at their house, then again years later when Lloyd was getting married to his last wife. She seemed uncertain where to sit, but I told her family sits in the first 3 rows and brought her there. She was by Lloyd's bedside on his last day.
Lloyd is the one I look like - exactly, so I kept an eye on him as he aged. He kept all his hair, stayed farly slim, and always had a nice outlook on life. His glass was always half full. I'm the only one in the family who ever enjoyed his jokes. They were really, really bad and I still tell many of them.
Lloyd served in the army during WWII but because he could play the drums he was stationed in Maine with a club band for the duration. He never succeeded to get his brother George to talk about the war.
George was in the second wave at Normandy and was later transferred to Patton's 3rd Army. He was part of the counter attack at the Battle of the Bulge. He was wounded twice in the leg and had to wear a brace for the rest of his life. Like most vets George never talked about battles only about certain people or some funny situations. He went to the 50th anniversary of D Day and opened up a little. Mainly, he said he wasn't a hero or brave, he just survived. People fell to his left and right but he kept going. He said the heroes are the ones buried there, he was just lucky.
George never complained about anything serious, and he never liked people thanking him for anything. He would look down and change the subject. He helped a lot around his church and later took care of Aunt Helen when she came down with Alzheimer. I saw him 3 days before he died. We talked about the new light rail line to Big Lake, going to the new Twins stadium and news about other family members. That night he told mom that we talked about "guy stuff".
Two military men were at George's grave site for the burial. Taps were played and guns were fired. They then folded the flag from his casket and presented it to mom and said something like "On behalf of the United States please accept this flag as a sign of our thanks for his service." And I lost it. This was the first time George couldn't stop someone from thanking him.