Field of Honor

              So I was out driving around this morning looking for interesting things to take pictures of and I drove by Veteran's Park in Fayetteville. I have been there several times before but it never looked like this. There were about a thousand flags lined up in rows.  Of course I had to pull in and take a closer look. A sign near the flags tells the story of why they are there. Each flag honors someone who is currently serving, those who have served, and the men and women who have made the supreme sacrifice for our nation’s security and freedom.

                                     Below are a few pictures from my visit there today.

 

            I find it hard to express how walking amongst these flags made me feel. I guess the best way to describe it is that it made me feel like a kid again. When I was a kid my dad would get dressed in his uniform and go off to defend our country. He went to ensure that the freedom that most of us take for granted was protected. I was proud of him. I was proud of America. Today I felt that rush of pride again as a walked across that field. For a brief moment there were no heavy burdens for me to carry, there were no problems to cloud my mind. There was only pride, happiness, and a perspective that is far too easily lost in our busy lives. That, to me, is what Memorial Day is all about.

Life Through Broken Windows

         I haven't really been taking any pictures lately which usually doesn't make for great blogging topics. "Sitting on my couch watching old episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond" doesn't really sound like a good title for a blog...  

         So this morning when I woke up I decided I needed something that was going to break me out of my funk and there was only one place I could think of. The old hoarder's property in Raeford! The first time I went there was one of the greatest days ever because of the stories he told and the very photogenic junk that he so closely guarded.

         When I pulled up the muddy drive way and parked next to the old building surrounded by junk I could see the old man standing at his work bench tinkering with a ceiling fan. Laying next to him on the ground was his faithful dog who barely lifted his head when I walked up. The old man instantly recognized me and asked me how my pictures turned out. I told him that they turned out great and thanked him again for letting me walk around. Then I asked him if I could do it again. He immediately said that would be no problem but he threw in a warning. He told me that my shoes looked very clean and it had been raining a lot. "There's a hell of a lot of mud out there", he said with a grin. I thanked him for his concern, shook his hand, and started my walk through the mud.

Looking through the tall weeds at one of his old buses 

 

It's amazing what you can find when you look through a broken window.

 

It skews the world in the most amazing ways...

 

Looking through broken glass always makes me stop and

daydream about what could have happened and the people

before me who looked through it when it was clean and new..

 

The beauty in it gets me every time.

 

 

      I noticed that a lot had changed from when I here last. It's springtime now and nature is reclaiming it's territory...one inch at a time.

 

 

 

 

Things that were easily seen before are vanishing into the brush..

 

 

I sat behind the wheel of some of the vehicles and imagined a time when it was someone's new truck. How happy they were when they drove it home. You can feel the energy in these vehicles. They tell an amazing story. 

 

 

This is my favorite old truck. It has such character.

 

 

 

         The old man told me that all of this won't be here much longer. There is a sadness to him as he tells me that he's having to sell the property and all of these old buses, trucks, cranes, and military vehicles will be hauled off and sold as scrap metal. That will truly be a sad day because the stories they tell are magical. It will be a shame if others aren't able to enjoy them like I have. This place makes me think, it makes me sad, and it makes me happy. A place that evokes a full range of emotions like this should be treasured, not destroyed. But that's what happens to the past. It is hauled away and replaced by something shiny and new, with only the photographs to remember it by.