Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column wanting to wish everyone out there in Readership Land a happy Memorial Day.
We are presently over at the Dillon cemetery listening to local musician Jon Clark blow “Taps” out of his bugle, and paying respect to the many men and women who have served their country during its history. We honor those past and present, and hope the young never lose sight of why we celebrate Memorial Day every year.
“Oh yeah, dude. Isn’t that the holiday to kick off summer, where they give you Monday off as a drinking holiday?” we might hear.
“No. No, dude. Memorial Day is all about veterans and the men and women, dead and alive, who have served their country to protect our freedoms and the borders of this great nation,” a more patriotic dude says.
“Whoa, dude. That’s way cool. I never knew that,” the first dude admits.
We salute you veterans and hope all among us have a safe and peaceful holiday.
Not altogether off the subject of this great nation, we were hiking a trail with our favorite canine the other day, and thought how very fortunate he was to be born right here in this country. Ourselves, too, we thought. It all came to light when we delighted in watching our cur run through the trees, tongue hanging long, and a very distinct smile on his face. Then we remembered back to our days living in Southeast Asia, and how absolutely horrible it would be to be a dog living on the streets of, say, Bangkok. Not only is it extremely hot and humid – wherein dogs quickly develop the mange and are plagued with fleas – but also many are homeless and rely on scraps and handouts wherever they can sniff them out. Our hound here in the hills not only gets a bowl of lamb and rice offerings every morning and evening, but also has fellow employees here in the Corporate Suites trained to stuff their pockets with milk bones when at the bank or the Barnyard. Almost three years we lived in Southeast Asia, and never once did we see a bag of Alpo. Dogs ate whatever scraps were left from the dinner table, and often it amounted to little more than a couple spoonfuls of rice, fish and chicken bones, maybe the dregs of the curry pot and often half-chewed chili peppers. Yes sir, we say, if you are going to be born a dog, much better in this fair land then say, Calcutta. We apply that to ourselves as well. Simply a blessing to be born here rather than in some impoverished nation.
A woman named Jane called with an Angel Alert!! Angle Alert!! She requested we distribute a whole bevy of angel wings and halos to a family from Denver – whose names she didn’t get – after they rescued her when her boat capsized in Lake Dillon Saturday.
“There I was, just enjoying the sun and the lake when all of a sudden, a big gust of wind came up and flipped me right into the lake!” she reported.
Brrrrr! is all we have to say about that!
She was able to flag down the only boat in the area, who pulled her aboard and dragged her boat to shore.
Folks, Lake Dillon might look like a nice place to take a refreshing dive, but you’ll be walkin’ on water before your fingers hit the surface. The ice just melted on that lake, and those waters are COLD!
Anyhow, we hereby bestow angel wings and halos to the dozen or so folks who pulled Jane’s sorry bum from the lake. You might have saved her life, folks, so wear your wings proudly. (And give those halos a little buffing once in a while!)
Another thing we’ve noticed this Memorial Day weekend. (Shhhhhh!) For the first time since we can remember – and we go WAY back – it’s not (shhhhh!) snowing or raining!
Every year for the past, oh, 4,295 years, it has rained and poured and sleeted and hailed and snowed and blowed and everything else miserable on Memorial Day weekend. It got to the point that people didn’t think Memorial Day weekend should be considered the unofficial start to summer, but that maybe it would be best to wait until June 21, the official start to summer.
We out, honoring veterans and scoping the waters for capsized dories and dinghies. We like that word. Dinghies. Yeah.
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