Memorial Day the East Texas Way.

When I think about the men who fight for our country I am proud, of course, but I'm also fearful. I fear that somewhere there are a group of WWII veterans sitting around saying, "Did we really throw our bodies into that foxhole so her and her friends could drink Dr. Pepper from a can and lay in the sun without any regard for SPF protection?"

Chances are they have more to think about than me, but ya know, in my mind, they don't.

I find it interesting that every Memorial Day I have lived in Tennessee I have cried. Memorial Day has always been one of those days you gather with family and friends, jump in the pool, throw dogs on the grill and relax. And yet I was always so far from family. And then yesterday.

Yesterday morning as I was loading up the car to head to the lake I realized that finally - finally - I was home for Memorial Day. And yet there I was loading up floats and noodles and ten ears of corn to head to the lake and spend the day with a bunch of people who aren't my family.

Maybe I was making a mistake.
Maybe I should stay.
Wasn't this what I always wanted?
Why was I leaving?

But then my dad walked out into the driveway and yelled, "I'll be so glad when y'all are finally gone!"

And I remembered why I was leaving in the first place: TO GET AWAY FROM FAMILY!

So the AG and I (and the kids, they followed us) drove to the lake to meet up with a few other couples from church. I'm not gonna lie, nor am I saying this to make you jealous, it was a high society kind of day. One you may have found to be a little uncomfortable if you aren't quite as high-falootin' as we all are.

For instance:

1. You may have found yourself not able to hang with us where you one of those redneck types who like your SPF over the legal drinking age. Not us. We are classy. At one point Nicolle wondered aloud why she hadn't just "brought my baby oil and iodine" and when Melinda offered me some sunscreen I asked what the SPF was. "30" she said, "30??? How am I supposed to get tan with 30?"

Somewhere in the world an American Cancer Society building fell to dust, I'm sure.

2. You are probably of the mind that one should eat hot dogs or hamburgers on Memorial Day. See? You're a hillbilly. We, on the other hand, think alligator and duck sausage thrown on the grill make for a tasty appetizer just before Bratwurst, grilled peppers and Boudain. We wash it down with cold Dr. Pepper and we don't apologize for eating entire ears of corn for dessert. Try to keep up.

3. You probably sat around on Memorial Day talking about your summer vacation plans or how you want to choke that CEO from BP they keep putting on the news. But again, you're an amateur. We discussed how to plant vegetables if you live in Kennard. How Wal-Mart makes you sign a disclaimer if you slip on a tomato on Aisle 4. And how you need to make sure your daughter keeps her braid away from the pea shucker. See? You probably wouldn't have fit in.

But that's okay. I don't want to make you feel bad. I'm just giving you the chance to brush up on high society livin' before this time next year so you can go with us. The way you do that is to:
a. Promise yourself you'll be fine with eating animals that aren't commonly put on a plate but rather, are wrangled at carnivals.
b. That you will be fine with having your skin burn to a crisp and then looking in a mirror and saying "oooh, yeah, I got some sun!"
c. And last but not least, be willing to lay in lake water surrounded by 4700 children who never once allllllll day said the words, "I have to go to the bathroom."

Then, and only then, can you celebrate Memorial Day the East Texas way.