Memorial Day 2008 starts out like most Mondays on the Island of Daufuskie. Warm Southerly breezes drifting off the ocean bring the sound of waves inland and Mother Nature's blessing blends in with the passionate singing of mockingbirds and a plethora of feathered wonders hidden in trees of green.
It's mid morning and with coffee cup in hand, I settle into my favorite rocker on the historic porch of the Bloody Point Lighthouse, close my eyes and "take in" what has become "a favorite symphony". My feathered friends respond in kind and as if on cue delight me with a premier "Fuskie" performance. But as with Memorial Days past, they know and I know that our pristine sensual experience is short lived. Like a storm approaching from the West, distant rumbling will be heard. The echoes will be muffled at first but soon what the Indians would have called, giant steel birds, make their presence over Hilton Head and "The Sound of Freedom" will reverberate over Calibogue Sound.
Each year I make a determined effort to attend a local Memorial Day Service. Coming from a long line of "soldiers" and as a Viet Nam veteran myself, the day takes on a very special meaning. But this year I have decided not to attend in person but be there in a "mental vision" sort of way. Then I can "snuff out" unwanted images of folks that are not really there for "moments of reverence" but only for the excitement of seeing fighter planes streak through the sky. I can visually see what's important , battled scarred soldiers, their aged faces looking reverently to the heavens as young men and women a third of their age proudly ride sophisticated rockets through the air. I can visually see them put their hands on their hearts or raise their hand in salute as the sound of taps waifs over Lowcountry marshes. I can visually see the tears they discretely whisk away so that no one will see, even though these tears should be seen as a form of honored strength and not weakness.
It's time for a second cup of coffee and I make my way to my Bride's kitchen. I'm just about to pour when a thundering sound quickly approaches, dishes rattle in the cupboard and a shrill streaking noise booms overhead. I rush outside and look to the sky but all I see is Carolina blue. And then it happens, a second steel bird makes it presence known, its big engines kicking in, putting on a "Daufuskie Air Show". The deafening sound quickly disappears. My feathered friends continue their symphony and my spouse rushes out and says "what was that"!!!! Just "The Sound of Freedom Honey"....I respond....just the "Sound of Freedom".
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