Americana

I marched in the Ho-Ho-Kus, N.J., Memorial Day parade yesterday as one of the town’s volunteer firefighters.  My two daughters, Elizabeth, who’s 7, and Julia, 9, also marched with their Girl Scout troops. The scene was right out of a Norman Rockwell painting, with many homes lining the town’s main street adorned with flags and bunting.  The local VFW closed the day with a wreath-laying ceremony to honor U.S. war vets, which included an incredible talk by a local West Point grad, now an Army captain, who has seen service in Afghanistan and Iraq.   He relayed one story about a firefight in Iraq where close air support was called in to protect the soldiers on the ground.  It just so happened that one of the F-16 pilots providing cover that day was one of his closest boyhood friends, a graduate of the Air Force Academy.  It really is incredible when you think about how fate brought these two, who competed as kids in local northern New Jersey baseball and basketball leagues, together years later in battle in a faraway land.  I tend not to get too sentimental/jingoistic, but the parade and ceremony (coupled with incredible weather) really had an impact and made me proud to be an American.