Nearly six hours ago, I came to the office with the intention to write a blog post.  But first, I checked my e-mail inbox.  There were several items that required attention.  That done, it was time for breakfast.  After breakfast, I returned to the office and began to read my favorite online news sources.  Next, I visited my favorite blogs.  That took a while.

My coffee cup was empty.  I refilled my nearly constant companion and started listening to Return of the King by JRR Tolkien on audio book.  Now on autopilot, I started playing Spider Solitaire as I listened to the story.  My eyes soon wandered to the window on my left.  It needed some work, but I wasn’t sure that I could do it without Sylvia’s help.  I decided to try.  An extra pair of hands would have made the job easier, but with planning and a handy length of two by six, my two hands proved sufficient.  I turned my attention to the window on my right.  This went easier–much easier–than the first one.  In the midst of all that activity, I found time for a late lunch.

After lunch and having finished the two windows in the office, I turned my attention to six more windows.  These were soon done.

Ready for a rest, I sat at the computer and started writing this.  That was over two hours ago.  It seems that only a sentence or two gets written before my attention turns to this project or that.  Perhaps I should post this before . . .  Oh, I really should . . .

LeRoy Hutchinson 1919-1990

In keeping with this day, which is designated for remembering those who served in our nation’s military, on Saturday I rearranged the mantle in the family room.  There is a triangular box with a folded flag.  The flag remains that way since it was lifted from my father’s coffin, folded and presented to my mother “on behalf of a grateful nation.”  Dad was in the US Army Air Corp during WWII.  To the flag’s left, is a composite photo image of the retirement ceremonies for our son, Scott, who served over 21 years with the US Air Force.  Scott is a veteran of the first gulf war.  The figures of angels are also placed on the mantel.  To the flag’s right is the angel of remembrance.  Between the flag and the photo is the angel of thankfulness.  On the other side of the photo is the angel of prayer.

My paternal grandfather told a tale about an ancestor who was a colonial spy during the American Revolution.  Grandad didn’t know his name, and I have not been able to confirm this story.  This I do know: John Hutchinson (5th great grandfather), left his home in Vermont to fight under General Washington.  He died at Valley Forge.  My maternal grandmother is descended from a soldier who died in the Revolutionary War while defending a fort in New York State (he was from Pennsylvania).

There are others–many of them–who answered the call to arms.  Let us honor those whose sacrifice made the life we know and love possible.  To all veterans, we salute you.

Saturday morning after an early lunch, Sylvia and I drove to her father’s home–nearly an hour away.  She had prepared some food for him and when we arrived she put that food in the refrigerator.  We had time to chat with Dad before Paul and Joyce arrived.  After they came, the five of us got in their car and we began the two-hour drive to Cadillac for Ruth’s funeral.  We talked a little bit, but soon our speaking ceased as road noise and soft music from the radio marked our progress along the highway.

While looking out the window at my side, I saw an airplane approaching from the West.  Trailing behind was a wide contrail of white.

I shot this photo while standing in my driveway.

Unlike the photo image, the jet I saw on Saturday was at very high altitude and was flying almost straight at us.  Also the silvery strand that trailed behind merged into a single wide ribbon.  Both the plane and the contrail were bright against the blue sky.  At first, I had to watch intently to discern any movement.  It was almost as if there were a silver spear suspended in the western sky.

Ever so slowly the “spear” approached and as it came nearer, the apparent velocity increased.  Then it disappeared overhead and I could no longer see the airplane from my window seat.  The contrail remained, marking the passage of the jumbo jet.

It was as though I had been witness to a metaphor of life.  We see from afar and as distance shrinks, not only is the vision clearer but the progress is swifter.  Yet after passing the contrail remains.

As I considered this thought, the bright contrail was already dissipating.  Soon the white ribbon that had marked the path was gone–never to be seen again.  Yet I remember the passing of that mighty airframe, which bore passengers and cargo on the appointed route.

Ecclesiastes 9:14, 15

There was once a small city with only a few people in it. And a powerful king came against it, surrounded it and built huge siege works against it. Now there lived in that city a man poor but wise, and he saved the city by his wisdom. But nobody remembered that poor man.  (NIV)