Perfect moments

I was thinking about one of the many perfect moments in my life. I am blessed, so there have been many!

When my son Pike was small, in kindergarten, I took him to a concert. It was a live performance by the Steve Miller Band. It was night at the zoo amphitheater. We were sitting on a blanket.

I call it a perfect moment because at some point in the performance, Pike got up and was dancing while singing the song (he had the greatest hits album memorized).

He was totally unselfconscious, totally in the moment, no cares, no worries. Only him and the music. Combined as one for a brief spectacular moment that I will never forget.

It was Perfect.

I was there to witness it.

I want to have more of these moments of perfection. Of equal importance, I want to recognize the moment as perfect.

Brother

I was just thinking about my brother, Troy Gene Pennington.

He wrote me only one letter in his life, but one was enough.

You see, when I was in the middle east, during Desert Storm, I received his letter. I will never forget that moment.

My battalion was in a desolete area of sand and small gravel. There was constantina wire strung around the the individual gp mediums. Attempts had been made at foxholes, but ended up being shallow scraps into the hardpan.

I was walking back to the hooch. Troy's writing was so distinctive to me. He was left handed.

I stopped and opened it, there was a picnic style table near by that I sat down on. No one was moving about. It was cold. The wind was blowing lightly.

In his letter he wrote.

It is not fair that you are there and I am here. You have so much to live for, your wife and son.

If I could I would trade places with you.

I am going to die anyway, and you have so much to live for.

You see, Troy was HIV positive. He had AIDS.

But my brother would have traded his life for mine. Regardless of the circumstance, he would have done this thing for me.

As it happens, I eventually came home. In 1994, Troy died.

I misss my brother. I miss all that made him what he was and is to me.

Freedom

I am thinking back over this years football season. We supported our local Lindale High School, they are the Eagles.

Every Friday night, the lights come on at the stadium. There is always a moment of silence and prayer. Then the national anthem is played by the band as everyone turns towards the flag.

I can't help, at this moment, standing at attention. My chest puffs up in pride and I look intensely at the flag. I am not looking at the flag, but at what it represents. Everyone sings the anthem and as the last words roll out, I can't help but shout out

Freedom

It is what it is all about.

Cutting Christmas Tree Outing

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