THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE

    While watching the news coverage of the recent passing of Senator McCain, in particular his time spent as a POW, I kept getting a nagging thought in the back of my mind.  I couldn't place it until it came to me last night.

     I dug through a box in the basement and found an old jewelry box I kept as a young girl.  In a pile of strange memorabilia, I found what had been bugging me.  My POW bracelet from the 1970s.

     My experience with the Vietnam War was watching news coverage and the fact that a friend of my family's lost their son over there.  My recollection is that there was an ad in the back of a magazine and you could order a POW bracelet.

    When I received my bracelet it was engraved with "Capt Ronald Packard, 7-31-67" and it came with the name and address of his wife.  For quite a while we exchanged letters -- there were no computers, etc. -- so snail mail was the way to go.  I remember stationery with daisies, my "I's" had hearts over them.  His wife's name was Shari, she lived in Colorado, and we would write each other about mundane issues.  As I think of it now, how hard must this have been for his wife?  Her husband was MIA, possibly a POW and there she was corresponding to a little kid.

    Here is a link about these bracelets from back in the day.    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/POW_bracelet

    Years past and whenever that day came that I put this bracelet in the box, I'm ashamed that it was forgotten for all this time.

    Now that there is Google, I was able to find out more about Capt Packard.  To connect a face and history with my long ago involvement brought tears to my eyes.  As an adult, and the Mother of a USMC veteran, I am devastated that he went missing when he was only 25 years old.  Only one year older than my son is now.

   After finding his history, I learned that his remains were found and he was buried in 1997 at Arlington with full military honors. Captain Ronald L. Packard memorial info.

    Also through Google, I believe I found his widow and I have reached out to her to see if she or anyone in her family might like to have me mail the bracelet to them.  Stay tuned! 

   RIP Captain Packard and know that long ago, a young girl, kept you in her prayers.

AT THE LAKE

     Now that Summer '18 is heading toward the record books, I have been reminiscing on some past vacations, some as an adult and some with my family when I was a kid.  One vacation spot in particular comes to mind....at the lake.

     Every other summer, my family rented a cabin on Long Lake, Maine.  One of my most vivid memories of the cabin was the picture window that looked out over the lake.  It was so large and clean that during the day it almost looked as if there was no window at all.  You could only tell when the sun hit a certain way, letting the rays into the room; and dust particles would look like dancing fairies in the sun.  We would watch the boats and especially the seaplanes which we would find fascinating.

    At night, the silence was so overwhelming you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.  At night, while reading, we would rest our feet onto the glass and feel the cool night air on the soles of our feet.  If we pressed our feet very hard, the chill seemed to travel up our legs.  There were no lights on the lake.  It was as if someone had shut every light of nature off.  All we could see was our reflection in the glass.

    The bedroom that my brother and I shared faced a screened-in porch.  All throughout the night we could hear the insects buzzing up against the screen.  They sounded so close, like the buzzing of the barber's razor when he is cutting close to your ears.

    A wood dock rocked gently in the water; it was our lullaby. My brother and I would wrap ourselves in our blankets.  They were pure white like new snow and as soft as sleeping wrapped in a cotton ball.

    We would wake when our mother started making breakfast.  We knew when Dad was awake because we could smell fresh coffee brewing.  Dad would take his coffee out on the porch and blow gently on it as if he were blowing the fur off a dandelion.  There was one spot on the floor that would always creak in a soothing rhythm.  We could almost hum along with that sound.  It sounded as if the porch was waking us up too.  Good morning, good morning, it seemed to sing to us.

    Every morning we would put on our bathing suits and head out to the lake.  The suits always felt a little clammy, as if they were not completely dry from the day before.  I would stick one foot in the lake and feel a chill all over.  We were convinced that someone had planted ice cubes in the lake overnight.  The water was as blue as our dungarees and was so thick you could not see your own feet.  Our bodies eventually adapted to the cold, and we would swim out to the raft.  We glided as if were were floating on top of the water.

   I only remember one misadventure (because with me you know there is always going to be one).  My brother was still pretty little and my dad offered to take me out in the canoe to go fishing.

  He paddled out to the middle of the lake, and got my fishing pole ready.  From cartoons I knew there was a hook and worm involved, but kind of freaked me out in real life.  After some time, my dad caught something.

   Unfortunately, the fish had swallowed the hook or something so my father had to try to do some surgery, in the canoe, on the open water.  As every other non-athletic kid would react, I freaked out.  I actually jumped out of the canoe and began to swim back toward the lake's edge.  And I actually took one of the oars with me!

   Needless to say.....my father is trying to frantically paddle with one oar and yelling at me to get back!  My mom, in the meantime, on the shore, watching me swimming away while my dad was yelling.  Fortunately I'm a strong swimmer but still!  What the heck was I thinking????  I made it back, and I was very dramatic -- "there was blood everywhere!  It was flopping all over the boat!!!"  My mom was probably thinking: "what????  A leg, a finger?  what???"   "THE FISH" I wailed!!

   I was brought into the cabin for some ginger ale and pretzels (usually reserved only for the stomach flu) while my poor Father struggled back.

   My mom, trying to remain cheerful asked, "so are we having fish for dinner??"

   "Hamburgers", was the only reply.

    In spite of this, I will always remember our Maine vacations as special.  Hopefully my dad would think the same thing!

    Make your own memories.