the few, the brave, the patient...

When Zoe and I lived together, she'd get all of this random mail from what I regarded as right wing extremist organizations with American flag paraphernalia and patriotic propaganda. Some of it was probably all about stopping abortions and forbidding recycling, but every once in a while I'd dig through the pile on the kitchen table be ask, "What's the story with all of this veterans shit?"

Zoe would've made a great soldier. She's very neat, she's very determined and she can run really long distances. Much to America's loss, Zoe never signed up. This past week, however, she volunteered for Honor Flight and chaperoned a collection of 80-somethings all over our nation's capital. She barely even mentioned she was doing this, instead offering she'd be out of town. If I were packing off and escorting oldies on and off busses in the rain, I'd be shouting my fabulous generosity from the rooftops. "Uh, maybe you didn't know, but I'll be taking WWII vets to the Purple Heart Ceremony at Walter Reed this week, so um, what's up?"

Not Zoe. Her humility exhausts me. 

So I shall brag for her. I am in awe of people who do things like this, who even know about it, consider it, commit to it and find themselves on an Honor Flight to Washington DC with heros named Earle and Barney. Whatever you think of our military or our government, you've got to hand it to Zoe for enthusiastically listening to war story after war story, taking photo after photo, holding hand after hand and most likely, repeating information constantly to very sweet elderly gentlemen on what was undoubtedly, a once in a lifetime experience. 

Read all about it HERE. 

ZoStaggHoBag, I salute, you...