Memorial Day

I don't have very many memories of Grandpa Sears because he passed away when I was only eight years old. I do remember that we traveled home from Germany for Grandpa's funeral on the earliest military flight that was available. That, as I recall, was inside the luxurious accommodations of a military DC-10. In addition to the windowless fuselage with rear-facing seating, we were treated to a non-insulated 20-hour flight with several prisoners bound for the Fort Leavenworth federal penitentiary.

Mom was about 8 months pregnant at the time, and she was spending much of that long flight inside the DC-10's latrine vomiting. I remember wearing ear plugs to drown-out the sounds of the engines, but even with the plugs in place, sleep did not come easy to an eight-year-old boy worried about falling victim to an attack from an unrestrained federal inmate.

Grandpa is buried at the Morris Hill cemetery here in beautiful Boise, Idaho. Since I live the closest, it is my honor to visit his grave site and place some flowers in his memory.