Last week, I fell into some kind of odd time warp and did not grasp that the day I thought was Wednesday was, in fact, Thursday. It’s actually worse than that. On Wednesday, I thought it was Tuesday and dutifully wrote and scheduled my Wednesday Riskies post.
Now, I work from home Thursdays and Fridays. So there I am, all day the next day, working away at the day job thinking it’s Wednesday. Even though I am home.
Then later when I was done with the day job portion of my day, I checked the Riskies post for what I was sure would be MASSES of great comments on my awesome post. And what do I see? That witch Janet Mullany posted over me! On my Wednesday! Nobody wants to read Thursday material on a Wednesday. I mean come on.
Just when I was about to add a flashing neon green background to Janet’s post, I said to myself, wait a second. Is is possible that I have somehow made a mistake?
I looked at my watch which helpfully displays the time, date and DAY, and holy cow, it’s Thursday.
Oops. Sorry I missed my day last Wednesday. In my timeline it was Tuesday.
Monday for us here in the US of A was a holiday and that means that the Tuesday on which many Americans went back to work functioned a lot like Monday. But I remembered in time that it’s not Monday, it’s Tuesday, and here I am my fellow Risky-Readers!
Since the holiday was Memorial Day, I want to mention that my son’s middle name comes from my mother’s eldest brother. He was a WWII veteran who saw hand-to-hand combat against the Japanese in Papua New Guinea. He passed away several years ago, at far too young an age. He spoke exactly once about the war, all though one night to my mother and the woman he eventually married, and then never again. It was only when he died and his coffin was draped in an American flag that his children and grandchilden learned he was a veteran. I knew, because my mother had told me. His own children did not.
My uncle was a wonderful man and I wish he’d lived long enough to meet my son. I wish my son could know the man he’s named after. I think my uncle is one of the only reasons my mother survived what happened to her in her childhood and if he’d lived he would have continued to make the world a better, safer place.
Soldiers and veterans put their lives on the line for the rest of us and, as we are slowly coming to understand, there is always a price beyond the physical when we ask someone to be willing to kill on our behalves. And this is as true in 1800 as it is today.
Lastly, May 30th is my sister’s birthday, if you’re on twitter please send her a happy birthday tweet. @majrite