Many of the men and women in my family have bravely fought for this country of ours, but we’ve been lucky enough that they’ve all come home. A few were wounded in action, but in so far as I know, they all made it back home dating back at least to World War II.
I remember once, as a child, when my great-grandmother told me that I had uncles who fought in the Civil War. This was big news, impressed as I was at that age by the Civil War. My mother rightfully pointed out that lots of people had family members in that particular war. But my great-grandmother might have watched the Battle of Bull Run as an onlooker. (To a little kid she was very, very old.)
So, while I can’t say today I’m thinking of friends or family members who’ve paid with their lives, I thought often of my trip to Gettysburg with friends a few years back on a very warm Memorial Day. (Here’s a slideshow I made of the day.) Everyone that is able should make that trip at least once.
Today we caught the train from Boston, which required a cab, Dunkin Donuts and then a quick ride in the quiet car to southwestern Connecticut. At the train station yet another person asked Wendy for help with directions or details. I’m making her a sign that says “I’m new here.”
On the way you see this, in New London:
This is the Bank Street Roadhouse, according to Flickr, which yields to reviews on Trip Advisor and Yelp that the place is so, so, with average this, average that and attractive bartenders. A picture of the front of the place I found makes it look far more reputable.
The Yankee’s dad picked us up at the train station. We headed home and then out for Pepe’s pizza. Ordinarily I don’t take, let alone publish pictures of food, but Pepe’s is the stuff angels eat:
Seven of us were there, we made short work of three pies.
Hope you’ve had a lovely Memorial Day, and I hope you’ll check out my slideshow.
Tomorrow: New York City!
