Memorial Day

   Memorial Day isn't just a day for having a BBQ, or a picnic. Memorial Day is when we remember those who died fighting for our freedom. I recall seeing a photograph that had a caption "Freedom isn't Free". That is very true. Anyways, the point of this blog post is that we should remember those who fought for our country and died doing so. Before I moved to my current house, I had a neighbor. Her name was Elaine Buffenbarger. I was great friends with her great-granddaughter, and Mrs. Buffenbarger herself. Mrs. Buffenbarger had a husband who died about 5 years ago on Memorial weekend. He fought in one of the wars, so technically he was a Veteran. I still think of him and what he did for my country, every Memorial Day. I know I normally put stories on here, but I guess I'm just venting a lot. Today I challenge you to think about what the men and women in the Army, Marines, Air Force, Homeland Security, United States Coast Guard, and the rest of those forces do for our blessed country. Just do that for me. Please. Now if you're in a different country than the United States, and you don't what I'm talking about "Memorial Day", I still challenge you to think about what your country's army is doing for your country. Goodbye for now.

The travelers- Part 2

   “What’s your name, miss?” the beggar girl asked me as we strolled towards my home.

   “My name is Victoria Jensen and I am twelve years of age, and the daughter of Mister Arthur Jensen and Missus Rosalind Jensen née Baker,” I explained, forgetting this beggar knew nothing of proper etiquette and introductions.

   “Hmm. My name is Mary Jackson. I’m 8,” the girl explained.

   “Pleased to have your acquaintance, Miss Mary,” I curtsied.

   “Likewise, I’m sure,” Mary repeated what so many ladies on the street would say to new friends.

   I laughed at that. Mary scowled, but kept walking.

   When I reached my home, I opened the front gate. “Enter, Lady Mary,” I bowed, sillier than ever.

   “Victoria, why are you doing this for me? You’ve never even met me before today!” Mary broke out of her beggar ways.

   “Wait, you’re an eight year old beggar, why are you talking like a proper lady all of the sudden?” I questioned.

   “Because I’m not a beggar. My uncle owns the general store,” she sighed.

   “What’s wrong?” I asked.

   “My uncle says that I should not affiliate with persons of the upper class. I do so long to be a princess though!” Mary Jackson complained.

   “Well, has your uncle adopted you?” I questioned the girl.

   “No, not properly, miss,” Mary replied.

   “Than it won’t be against code for my mother to attempt to adopt you,” I smiled. I led Mary through the gate, up onto the porch, and through the front door. “Mother, I’m home! And I’ve found a girl for you to adopt!” I announced my presence.

   “Oh, she’s perfectly lovely!” Mother proclaimed. “Although she is a bit smelly,” she whispered in my ear.

The Travelers- Part 1

   As I walked down the dusty road, in my fancy purple dress and shoes, I saw a beggar girl crouched at the edge of the road. "Hey-ho, miss! Buy a handful of flowers for jest a dime!" she called.
   "Girl, what makes you think I have a dime? I've never seen you before, where did you come from?" I asked questions.
   "Miss, I guessed you 'ad a dime, 'cause you've got such a pretty dress on. I wish..." the girl trailed off at the end.
   "You wish, what?" I questioned the beggar.
   "I wish I 'ad a dress like that. But if I be having one, it'd get stolen, sure 'nough," the girl mused.
   "Do you have a family, girl?" I asked.
   "Nope, I'm an orphan. Jest trying to stay out of the orphanage, I am," she explained.
   "Come with me, I want to show you something," I said.
   "I'm coming!" she dropped her flowers and ran towards me.