A singular minute in our lives. We’ll have to wait another hundred years to have such a congruence of numbers in time and date. Next year, we will have 12:12 on 12/12/12, but that is a combination of two numerals, not one. I suppose that, more accurately, the year 11 would have been the true 11/11/11, but I doubt that they were blogging about the numeric congruence back then.
So what were you doing at 11:11 today? Where were you?
As I have been doing for a number of years now, I spent today, 11/11, at Evergreen Washelli Cemetery in north Seattle attending the annual Veterans Day Memorial Celebration. For me, this day, and this celebration, are times of homecoming and gratitude. There are many veterans in my life, those that have served – or are serving – in WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and many other places and times I’m unaware of. I admire, respect and am grateful for their commitment and their service.
Knowing it was Veterans Day, and knowing that 11:11 on 11/11/11 was momentous, I specifically chose this time and place for my photo op of the minute. I watched the clock, as the rain just began to fall, and shot the following three images at 11:11.
The Memorial Chimes Tower stands in the distance, beyond the graves of fallen warriors.
I greeted, with hugs and handshakes, the old friends I’ve seen twice a year for years now at the cemetery, on both Veterans Day and Memorial Day.
Walt Gallagher, in the American Legion, is a longtime friend of my friend Joe. He gave me a flag to carry home.
The “Parade of Colors” was just getting underway at 11:11. Note the narrow, white posts around the headstone beneath the large flag on the right; these posts mark the grave of Medal of Honor recipient, Lewis Albanese.
There are a few faces that no longer greet me at the cemetery on Veterans Day, and I’m saddened by their passing or their infirmities. One man in particular is WWII Vet, Joe Feldman, (a story in himself!) He passed away in 2009, at the age of 92 while I was away in Italy. As a tribute to him, I present this photo, one of many that captures his spirit, pride, dignity and honor.
Every Memorial Day (this shot in 2007), Joe would stand front-and-center, and salute as wreaths were laid at the Grave of the Unknown Soldier. Because he was blind, I escorted and steadied him as he saluted. No one else knew his trembling, or his tears, as he had the honor of saluting.
I had not anticipated that this worldwide 11/11/11 event would, for me, become about those veterans in my life, and so much a time to reminisce about good, ole Joe. I miss taking him to coffee, walking him to the podium, and seeing his thrill at the sound of the marching band.
Thank you, veteran friends, for your service.