Nomadic. Storyteller. Soul searcher. Experience hungry. Music carnivore. Dreamer of better things.
The Kennedy graves
I’ve heard it said that America changed forever the day that JFK died. Having not been born until 1970, I can only rely on history for validity of this statement.
I can tell you though that walking in Arlington cemetery and coming to the flame that burns eternally at the grave stone markers for JFK and his wife is a humbling and moving experience.
Politics are not discussed here, only the occasional question raised by young minds as their parents softly answer them in tear choked whispers.
I leave a penny on the grave marker of RFK, and look up to see our country’s flag gently flapping in the autumn wind. I hear a family remark that the Kennedy’s uncle has a tombstone here as well, as he lost his life in World War One.
So much sacrifice, for their country, for their beliefs, for each and every one of us.
It was a moment of pride and unparalleled loss that I felt simultaneously upon the hallowed grounds of Arlington.