The first thing I noticed looking around at things…
Is that a bullet hole? And, if not, what the heck happened here?
That said, today was the day before Memorial Day. I would see people placing flags and flowers for the next couple of days. A lot of men and not a small number of women have given the last full measure of devotion for our country. Understand that I don’t mean this as the hero worship that has become so popular in the last two decades. No doubt some who died were heroes, but most were just people. They lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, loved and were loved, and lost it all in the service of our country. Some times the circumstances were just and honorable, other times the aims were questionable at best, but always in service to the country. I like to think I hold in my heart the words of Stephen Decatur: “Our Country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may she always be in the right; but right or wrong, our country!” I realize that I also echo the words of G.K. Chesterton: “‘My country, right or wrong,’ is a thing that no patriot would think of saying. It is like saying, ‘My mother, drunk or sober.’” But that’s beside the point, I guess. They gave their lives and for that, even if nothing else, they deserve to be remembered.
Quanah, once again, is my homie. A nearby pocket park with a cache in a tree. It was a little difficult to get out, but an improvised tool made of sticks made it possible. Retrieved, signed, and returned so the next person would have less problem with it, I rolled again until I arrived in…
Geocaching While Black 