I always attend a little parade, honoring the veterans killed in action. My uncle was killed in vietnam, and my father carries his name. My great uncle was killed in World War II and I normally carry his name. It's a 7 block parade concluded in the town square.
I wish I could do more, but what I do is from the heart.
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like \"I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive. . . . \" And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: \"Holy Jesus! What are these animals?\"