Beach, Bikes, Boys and a Baby Girl

The beach trip seems to come at just the right time every year, and this year is
no different.  I think it took about two full days to decompress from every day
life and settle into that sweet world of Jimmy Buffet's sand and surf.  As I'm
writing this blog, we've been home for a few hours and Lily just brought her
swimsuit to change back into.  I'm guessing it will take less than two days to
find that same ole groove of everyday life.
But, everyday life is certainly nothing to complain about.  I think trips to the
beach or mountains are just a type of frosting on a very well made cake.  I do
have to admit that for four days I did not miss: the yapping that has become
politics; watching crude oil prices; hearing about sports related scandals; or
anything else that extended beyond the circle of my family.
We found a small studio condo in Seagrove Beach, Florida.  It is a small beach
community that sits a mile west of the illustrious Seaside (where The Truman
Show was filmed a few years ago).  Seagrove is a little older and remnants of the hippie era
still remain evident in this beach town.  It actually reminded me of Lake George
in upper state New York.  Anyway, we would hit the beach all morning... eat our
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, plums, goldfish crackers, and Dr. Pepper...
then head in for a little nap and reading during the heat of the afternoon...
hop on our bikes and ride for a few hours through these incredible neighborhoods
and trails... then head back to the condo (one night a movie, one night a walk
on the beach, and one night an outdoor theater presentation of Sleeping Beauty).
All in all it was a great trip.  It's fun to see how my kids are growing.  If
you scroll back through the blog a year ago... you can see the kiddos in Destin.
Lily is no longer a baby girl.  She has officially made her debut into the world
of raging toddler-ville.

4th of Julily - Part II (Actually its the 3rd)

The Ten Tenors are a group of former opera students from Australia who have recorded with brilliance the classic military tribute, Here’s to the Heroes. It is a daunting song whose lyrics and music conjure up the visions and dreams of war torn soldiers whose blood, sweat, and tears have fertilized the ground of our democracy. The tympanis and violins meld with the voices to produce the portrait of a 19 year old boy, whose gun is strewn across his chest, his boots are well worn with the enemy’s dirt, his fatigues are ravaged and stained with his brother’s blood, and his eyes reveal stories his mouth will never speak.

Here's to the heroes,
Those few who dare,
Heading for glory,
Living a prayer.
Here's to the heroes
Who change our lives.
Thanks to the heroes,
Freedom survives.

Unfortunately our military and wars have too often become little more than political operatives and campaign buzz-words to further a politician’s agenda. How we have forgotten that within the gear and combat boots is a young man or young woman who has sworn allegiance to the dream that is America. Some live and some die. Some are wounded all will carry scars. Here’s to the Heroes who dare to live in the gap between freedom and tyranny. Whose very lives are the living wall that borders our constitution.