365 Music Project

I think you guys know that I *kinda sorta* have a thing for Sufjan Stevens. And last night I stumbled onto this really great remix so I figure, let’s make it the song of the day, yes?

So, song of the day is a remix of “Avalanche” by Broke For Free. 
 

And hey, download it here for free! #Word.

Such a beautiful, quiet track from Little Joy. And hey, who doesn’t need a little extra Portugese in their life, right?

Song of the day is “Evaporar” by Little Joy. 

So today it’s Memorial day. And I’ll admit, I didn’t really have any big plans. Lunch with a friend, hanging out with my neighbors, perhaps a walk around one of the lakes, you know, nothing big.

But last night I got a call from my dad asking if I would be visiting a relative of mine buried at Fort Snelling.

“What, what?” I asked. “A relative of mine here?”

I had no idea.

See, my people aren’t from the Land of 10,000 Lakes, so discovering that I had a blood relative just miles from where I live was quite the little revelation.

I don’t know a lot about Fort Snelling, nor their Memorial Day activities, so I figured I’d simply stop by a local flower shop, pick up some flowers, perhaps a flag, and be on my way. Easy peasy, right?

But upon passing through the gates and seeing a man standing at a solemn salute with bagpipes, it was clear: this would not be some lighthearted morning adventure.

As I navigated my way through what seemed to be an endless sea of bright white gravestones, I wondered to myself “Where do I even start?”

And so I walked.

And walked. 

Aaaaand walked.

And as I walked, I saw scenes Norman Rockwell himself would have wanted to paint:  

A man in his dress whites, walking stoic with three small children in tow.

A large family picnicking together at a grave site, laughing.

A man attentively cleaning a tombstone.

A veteran sitting behind a tree, quietly weeping, his face in his hands.

And then I saw it. 

The reason I came to this place.  

I saw it from the back first, slowly running my hand across the top as I looked at the front to be sure. It was him. I immediately and unexpectedly knelt to the ground, eyes filled with tears.

“I am so sorry we didn’t visit you sooner,” I said.  

He’s been here 70 years. Away from his family, away from his home, our family, our home. Here, because we didn’t have a place to bury servicemen there back in those days. 

I sat in front of the grave, taking a moment to just look at it, brushing off the cobwebs and bird droppings, taking great care to place my flowers and flag just right so they would be perfect.

I slowly traced the name with my finger, embracing this moment of unexpected familiarity. 

His name. My name. 

Oftentimes I think it’s common to associate patriotism with ignorance. And in our quest to be united, we sometimes divide ourselves and forget those who answered—perhaps not of their own accord—when our country called. 

Today I am happy…and proud.

Proud that I had the beautiful opportunity to see people of all walks, cultures, political beliefs, and experiences, united in one thing: caring for and honoring the ones we lost. The ones all of us lost. 

For when I saw this, I knew in my heart, this is precisely what Norman gave his life for.