Yesterday, a fallen Marine, Sgt. Kevin Balduf was remembered by his family, friends, and strangers from across the country, at Woodmont Church in Nashville, TN.
My day started catching a Rural Metro ambulances serving as a shuttle bus between the fairgrounds (for parking) and the church. Outside the church a couple thousand individuals who didn't know this young hero still gathered in his honor. Yesterday there were only Americans on those church grounds no one saw gender, race, religion just true Red, White and Blue AMERICANs. This was the day we all had something in common; What did we have in common?
We had flags and American Pride. Big flags, little flags, middle sized flags. Flags on shirts, hats, bikes, cars, taped to ambulance antennas and we bonded on the feeling that this was where we had to be. Our being there was, in part, due to the threat the well known (for not so popular reasons) Westboro Baptist Church. We were not there to cause a fight, although many of us had boiling blood running through our veins; but because Kevin's family needed our love and our protection and Kevin's family still needed to know he was appreciated, respected and honored for his ultimate sacrifice.
I expected to spend a day planning to be hot, tired, and sweaty. What I didn't expect was to have what seemed like dozens of Marines walking up and down the lines, shaking everyone's hand and saying thank you to the "ordinary citizens". I didn't expect to see Kevin's family and friends walking down the long lines and among the groups of supporters shaking thier hands with each person and saying "Thank you for beng here"
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