Peenie Wallie

We are greatly indebted to these people. And I don't really know what to say. But I introduced myself and thanked them for their service and asked them if they wanted a cup of coffee. (I wasn't wearing the hat just for kicks, you know. It was about 50 degrees F.)

So I hustled off and got them a cup of coffee at the local watering hole and got back in time to set them up with their coffee before any of the kids showed up. Then I went and started getting ready for my shots.

I noticed about a half dozen M-1 Garands leaning against a brick wall and I was careful not to kick them over, because they looked real. They didn't look like dummy guns or anything.

A guy showed up with an immaculate WWII U.S. Army jeep. I couldn't tell you if it was a Willis MB or a Ford GPW but it was immaculate. And it wasn't a CJ-2A. I checked that.

And then, on this beautiful November morning, a stream of children came down the hill. Single file, Indian style. Waving little American flags and it was an inspiring sight. To see the children turning out to support the vets.

The kids all formed into orderly little rows as the vets addressed the children directly, explaining the origin and meaning of Veteran's Day.

The ceremony itself wasn't overly dramatic. There was no press, save me. The vets weren't wearing any makeup and they weren't great orators. They were just ordinary heros. The kind we all take for granted.

The children stood before the old vets, silently clutching their little flags. When the National Anthem was played, they placed their hands over their hearts. When the vets prayed, the kids solemnly bowed their heads. It was one rare moments. A true gift that you can only experience in the fly-over country. One of those rare times when you feel like America might still have a chance. That maybe the tree-hugging liberals haven't won so completely.

Then the speaker at the lectern called on the color guard to present arms and suddenly, the M-1 Garands were firing round after round against the clear blue Colorado skies. As the guns of November cracked above their heads, spent shell casings rained down on the Vietnam memorial where we'd gathered. The kids were startled and wide awake. Full of adrenaline and anxious for life.

The head of the local VFW attempted to conclude the ceremony, but a small girl charged forth and explained the she was to sing the Star Spangled Banner. The song is challenging for anyone, but this little girl had an amazing voice. She sang the song with such courage, strength, and emotion that everyone was crying by the end. She was crying. The vets were crying. I was crying. It was a beautiful ceremony.

And then the vets officially concluded the ceremony.

As the kids prepared to prepared to leave, some broke formation to thank the vets and offer them hand written letters or pictures they'd drawn.

The boys asked for the spent shell casings from the blanks and the vets passed out all they'd collected, surprised that anyone might want them.

As the column of kids marched back up the hill like ants, the aging vets stowed their fading flags. Then went home to study, in private, the priceless gifts of the children.