True Story: "What are we doing out here?"

Memory, like family, is a strange thing. Each have the same capacity for both good and bad. You can cherish and/or dread what comes out of the pair. The Memorial Day holiday* and my relatives hold that special property for me. Through no fault of my own, I was raised mostly by my mother's herd -- who are just this side of sane (although, they have been known to stray into the land of crazy from time to time). However, I still consider myself lucky I was stuck via blood and marriage with these people. My father's clan, as luck would have it, reminded me of a scant version of the familia that brought the bounty upon Alfredo Garcia's head. But, that's for another tale...

This post has been moved to my current blog, which can be found here.

Memorial Day

It's the last day of the three-day holiday weekend. The Los Angeles Marathon is being run today (first time away from its previous March date)--and one better be aware of where not to drive in the city. We will be heading out to my brother's home in Thousand Oaks for a BBQ in a few hours. But this date represents more than just foot races and family get-togethers. It's Memorial Day. And the L.A. Times had a timely Column One article to mark it. It made me reflect on the number of family members, on my wife's and my side, who've served in the Army, Navy, Marines and Air Force currently, or in the past. While this holiday has a varied history (and some controversy), it traditionally honors those who've died in defense of their country. But, I'd like to honor those in harm's way, now. So, on this day my family and I are putting together a care package for a Marine representing two sections in Iraq. We obtained his address going through the Any Soldier web site. It's a small gesture, but a worthy one.