Our way of life…compliments of those who didn’t make it back-

I have spent many Memorial Days attending remembrance ceremonies over the years.

I think it is important.

I have also spent many Memorial Days enjoying what we call the American way of life-cooking out, swimming, and enjoying time with family.

I think that is important, too.

Some others may disagree with me, but I think there is no better way to honor our Fallen Comrades than by enjoying Memorial Day by all those things–cookouts, ball games, recreational activities, and being with family— Why? Even if you take advantage of that Memorial Day sale–whatever the day encompasses, as long as we understand HOW we got here–by the  blood of Americans, past and present–and as long as we are acutely aware that if we are to preserve our way of life–then not only must we remember but we must be prepared.

In today’s time, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and Independence Day are virtually the same–and now more than ever our nation tips its cap to our Military everyday. You can’t go out to eat, walk into a store, or even pump gas in a uniform without someone thanking you.  It is extremely humbling and for me almost embarrassing because I’m nobody. Then you realize it’s not about you as much as it is the uniform and what you represent. My normal response besides “Thank You” is that “I’m just glad they allowed me the privilege to serve.”

REMEMBER–Memorial Day is about those that paid the ultimate price, those that didn’t make it back.

 We MUST remember–not just on Memorial Day, but EVERY day we wake up as Americans–and then we can enjoy our way of life.

Speaking of the American way of life, on Monday, May 26th, I will be honorary team captain for the Atlanta Braves/Boston Red Sox game at Turner Field. My “duty” is to take the lineup card to the umpire. To say I’m excited for the opportunity is a gross understatement. I love baseball and the Atlanta Braves.   My good friend, fellow Soldier, and Chaplain, Captain Leslie Nelson, offered my name. She knows I am a baseball fanatic. She is a wonderful Chaplain and brings great comfort to our Soldiers–she also helps us to remember.

So, on Memorial Day 2014, with my family in tow, we will enjoy our American way of life. It will be a great day, but I will remember it came at a high price — some of whom I studied, some I heard about, some I knew and hundreds of thousands who I never heard of but still garner the same respect. I will remember that I am only a representative to all the others, and that when someone thanks me they are thanking ALL who serve and have served…and I will thank God that I am an American.

CUTESY CUTS AND CLIPS

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

I couldn't get to my regular Barber. She closes at 5. She's the best in the business, but I got my butt in a bind and my window of opportunity for a haircut came down to this afternoon.
I realize in 3 weeks I will require another haircut and I promise to tip my REAL barber (she's the best in the business) even more due to the fact I had to forsake her loyalty. I feel like I cheated on her. Her shop is a red, white, and By-God blue barber shop. Her Uncle Billy passed and she's carrying on his legacy and starting one of her own. A haircut in a real barber shop is almost like going to church. She's the best in the business, and when she uses a combination of buzzing clippers, straight razor, hot lather, and that tingly green "man smell" on the back of my gourd, you walk out of there born again.

Alas, and woe be unto my head, this is one of those themed franchises, you know, one of those  cutesy places. Unisex, they call it. I didn't know what unisex meant, I thought it had something to do with those late night infomercials, but it means boys, girls, kids, old people--everyone but dogs-- can get a "clip" here.
Unisex is a metrosexual term that means  "I don't give a damn who cuts my hair as long as we can be cutesy."

It smells more beauty parlor-ish than barber shop. It looks like a place where one might purchase some electronics. The cutesy stadium seats, the shelf of hair care products named after some herbal plant or some character from Greek mythology do not impress me. I will give them an "OK" on the flat screen TVs, though no one in the place appeared to be watching them.
There isn't a Field and Stream or Georgia Sportsman within 10 miles of here. It's cutesy every dang thing, and had I a large ripe lemon my butt would have sucked it. In fact, typing the word "cutesy" begins the process.

The pictures on the wall are smiling young people who look like they need a haircut---and I bet my hat and ass both someone in one of the chairs back in the cutting area are using scissors that most everyone else uses to trim unsightly nostril hair. (Pause while we all wretch).

I had to sign in, like they do at the doctors offices. Unreal. I haven't smelled talcum or heard one pump of a barber chair handle or a pop of a towel.

It's all wrong, it's against the laws of nature, and when its all over I'm gonna go home and shower the cutesy off of me and become a man again.
I hate myself for getting in a predicament not getting to my real tonsorial parlor--(but the fish were biting last weekend).

I got the hairs cut. Looks like I'm going to live, but it came with a price. No talcum, no green "man smell" on the back of your head to make it tingle, just a weird beauty parlor smell and a bunch of unisex gum smacking nose hair trimmers.

As I was checking out, a dad was bringing his little boy in--he introduced his timid child to the haircutter girl as "this is Miss_____ , and she's a friend....." He then sat down in the chair, and ( bear with me I need a cleansing breath) he placed the kid IN HIS LAP while the kid got cutesyfied.

So help me, and with The Lord as my witness, my skin crawled.

John Wayne, Joe Fisher, or Pottamus Rex never ever sat in anyone's lap at a barber shop. I guess its acceptable in cutesy unisex hair emporiums.

I paid my bill post haste and skedaddled, wondering how things have gotten to this point. No talcum, no green stuff on the back of your head to make it tingle, just a weird smell and a bunch of unisex gum smacking nose hair trimmers.

We are going to hell in a cutesy handbag.