I’d promised Randy “Hatman” Smith that I would say a few words at yesterday’s Memorial Day celebration on the Tybee Pier. There were bands playing throughout the day and the beach was of course packed beyond belief. Hatman and I go way back so I wandered onto the Pier at noon when the “Bored” meeting commences anyway.
When he saw me he asked if I would speak at 4:00.
“Damn,” I thought to myself.
“Yes,” I told him.
So there I was at 4:00 watching the drummer throw his sticks into the air, catching it while still playing and never missing beat. The two guitar players were really tearing it up and it was apparent that they’d played together for a long time. The bass player stood behind them with long black hair swaying back and forth.
A crowd of over 300 were dancing away and singing along to classic rock-n-roll. It was a perfect Memorial Day party. American flags were everywhere and collections were being taken for the Tybee Veterans Memorial fund.
I sat on the edge of heavy wooden picnic table watching all of this but not feeling a part of it. I was there alone and feeling it.
“Good loving gone bad,” they sang.
Tell me about it.
The holiday weekend also coincided with my wedding anniversary but I lost that in the divorce. Now it’s just an empty weekend. Some days you just wait for tomorrow to come. It was one of those days.
Then out of the corner of my eye I saw her walking towards me. Rita is a bartender on the island and I’ve known her for years. She had a smile on her face and without saying a word threw her arms around me.
“You OK Rev”?
And the concern and sincerity in her voice, the empathy and understanding that filled her arms and the warmth in her eyes … a holiness was suddenly born in the midst of a wild party celebrating war … both the survivors and those not so lucky.
When things like this happen, it makes you believe in God.
Then Hatman introduced me and I took the stage and was surprised my Dad popped into my mind. He was a Korean War veteran who really didn’t like recognitions like this. He’d been captured twice and wounded once. He didn’t have much good say about it.
When Savannah built a Korean War Memorial we had to drag him kicking and screaming to the dedication ceremony. Once he got there he cried like a baby.
These are the images that floated through my brain as I stood on the stage and said a few things. Rita of all people stood there as a surrogate significant other. And emotion came into a day that hadn’t had any for me.
It’s funny how holiness works.
