For Memorial Purposes

Since Memorial Day just passed (and I was too lazy to write anything yesterday) I'm going to use that as my theme for tonight. Although instead of just writing my thoughts on veterans or America, I thought I'd do something a little bit more personal mixed in with the basic principles associated with the military: teamwork, bravery, responsibility, and compassion.

I realized I am slowly entering that age where names and faces of my past are becoming fuzzy. The lines between what ACTUALLY happened and what I think are starting to disintegrate, and so in an effort to help my problem I am going to utilize this web-diary thing to jot down some memories so that they are forever documented (and hopefully if I can pin down these thoughts it will help to always anchor additional ones).

So, in the vein of remembering what our heroic soldiers stand for, here are the things I hope to always remember...

1. Coach/Mr. Ullmeyer- My cross-country coach. He might actually be the reason I started to think about this as a good topic. I was jogging the other day and still trying to remember the breathing techniques he taught me. Granted, I lasted for just the season, and was consistently bringing up the rear, it still felt awesome to be part of something (especially since my high school years mostly consisted of trying to evaporate into the background).

2. My sister calling me brave- I doubt she would remember this, but for some reason I never forgot (and hopefully now I really never will). On one of our many little family road trips, we went to a water park (most likely Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom). Anyway, as usual I put up a fight to go on any of the slides. I was (and still to this day) terrified of heights AND losing control so choosing to toss my slippery body down an even MORE slippery chute didn't really rank high on my To-Do list. However, being with my sisters I definitely wanted to keep up. And after a few I started to gain some confidence (once I figured that the bolts holding the tube in place weren't going to pop-out suddenly and send me 3 stories to the ground), I actually started to have fun. So much so that I VOLUNTEERED to go on the next big slide. Without hesitation I climbed to the top of the stairs and before I knew it I was careening back all the way to the pool below. Truthfully, I was a little scared when I felt myself lifting up due to some unexpected drops, but the fact that my big sister Hillary told me she was proud was well worth it.

3. Marshmallow- my pet bunny. There was a time when we were kids that we all decided we wanted our own pets. We loved our dog, Abby, but I guess her novelty began to wain (especially since she wasn't allowed upstairs, in the living room, OR family room). I can't remember who got theirs first, but Hillary had her pet bird, Iago, while Lindsay had Bernard the Hamster (and yes they are both characters from Disney movies--does that prove we were brainwashed or the fact that Hillary had over 20 Disney figurines in her room...or maybe that I used to watch the promotional video they sent us like an actual movie...yeah, you got us you evil evil corporation). Anyway, since they had their feathered and furry friends (and I was sick of flushing two-day old dead goldfish) my mother finally promised me a rabbit for my birthday. Before that time, however, we had some tragedies: Iago was found dead at the bottom of his cage one morning, while Bernard made a truly miraculous escape (only to be found alive in our neighbors garbage can while they were taking out the trash) but died a few days later--there's something very poignant about that, or maybe I'm still hung up on the Lost ending. Anyway, to soothe their pains (or just to butt in on MY thing) they got rabbits as well: Hillary's was a grey and white one she named Thumper (stick your royalties up your ass Disney). Lindsay's, a chocolate brown one, had a Prince/The Artist Formerly Known as Prince thing going on since she changed the name from Brownie to Fuzzhead every other week. Mine was simple- Marshmallow- named so b/c of her all white fur. When I first spotted her she looked one of those magician rabbits, yet she was so soft and fluffy she just reminded me of the white candy. Also, she had these crazy hot-pink eyes (which I guess means she was albino), which def sold me. I used to love to put her on my chest and stroke her while I was reading on our back porch during the summer. But as tends to happen, the reality of actually caring for an animal began to set in. We neglected them a bit and then one day my mom told me Marshmallow was sick. I was upset but didn't know what to do. I went out to stroke her from time to time, but to see her look so skittish and yellow (no longer the vibrant white) broke my heart so much I couldn't bear going out to see her. Finally, my mom came to pick me up from school one bright afternoon, and turned around in the driver's seat.


"Honey, Marshmallow died."

Of course I cried a bit, feeling not just the loss but a huge amount of guilt. I felt responsible for her death (ironically due to my irresponsibility). Lately I've been really pushing for us to get a dog, which makes me think alot about ol' Marshmallow. Hopefully the mistakes I made with her won't be repeated, but I'm sure the love will be.

4. Remembering to never judge a book...- There was a girl in high school named Julie Hoffmann that sat near me in French class. She had honey blond hair and always wore thick black eyeliner. She was new, so since there was an open seat near me Ms. Ennis assigned her there. We never spoke too much, only occasionally when she had to pass something to me or borrow a pencil. But when we did lightly chat I figured she was nice enough. As it turned out, she was also in my English class, though we sat further away. I noticed some kids chuckling and realized they were doing so at Julie. I felt awful, but being that I was pretty low on the social totum pole myself, I said nothing (I probably even joined in, knowing my cowardice). And when we found out that she had died suddenly in an awful car accident, I felt I could never really forgive myself. I tried to assuage my guilt thinking I never really knew her, so what was I supposed to do? I had that same laissez-faire attitude with another student at school. It was right after the Columbine tragedies and one student was accused of planning to harm the school. Wanting to appear under control while at the same time preventing any law suits we were unofficially given liberal leave, which many of us took advantage of--only to go to the nearest hang out and talk about who it was. I joined in, like a lemming off a cliff, into the badmouthing and criticizing. I thought I wouldn't think about it again until I actually met the guy, and realized how foolish I had been. We ended up having mutual friends and began to hang out once in a while. He is not only one of the most laid back yet passionate people I have ever met, he is also the bravest. He enlisted into the army and went overseas for long extended periods of time, often in frightening areas. It makes me sick to think how I could have been so close-minded and judgmental when I didn't even know what a tremendous guy he is. I have sadly lost touch with him since I moved to Baltimore, but I always think of him whenever I see the posters or commercials for the army...and wonder what lucky person is getting a lesson on acting or horror movie trivia from him.

There are tons of memories that I would like to lock up somewhere safe, but I figured this is a good start- and it goes along with the Memorial Day theme, don't you think?

If this one was a little on the depressing side, fear not. I had to get this one off my pathetically small chest, but I got a whole bag of crazy for youall. Until tomorrow then fan-a-reenos!