Here it is my fine friends.

The long awaited tale of our fridge that died.

It had been acting up for months. We’d had the repair man in twice. But it decided to officially konk-out on Memorial day – which meant there wasn’t a lot we could do except throw away a bunch of food and keep our fingers crossed that we could replace it, and fast. You see most of the stores were closed and their websites all seemed to say that ordering a new fridge would take three weeks to deliver.

THREE WEEKS?!

Here I am with our old fridge. When we cleaned it out it was so stinky that I decided to wear a tea- towel on my face. Jan thought I looked like a terrorist and that I was holding those brussels spouts hostage.

On Tuesday I ran to a local appliance store called Karls. Found a model that would work, ordered it and by Wednesday we had a new fridge up and running.

And we love it!

She is so pretty that I just couldn’t put the photos and magnets on her and make her look all common and cluttered.

In fact, both Jan and I were loathed to put any food into it – it was just so crisp and spanking clean!!

Welcome to our family, happy, new, clean, white fridge – that works!

Fear not, little fridge – I won’t hold any of your food hostage.

(my grandparents - Kay and John)

It has been only three days since Memorial Day, but for some strange reason it feels like a year ago.

I was thinking a lot about my granddad, John Henry Kelly. He didn’t die in a war, but he fought valiantly in World War II as a ball turret gunner. Before he died, he took a writing class and put together a treasure for those of us who loved him. He wrote his memoirs which comprised his memories of falling in love with a girl named Kay Shill, of being called to battle, of facing enemy combat,of watching his friends and fellow soldiers die and then coming home and becoming a father.

He had never really talked about that time in his life, to me anyway, but on his desk in basement of his condo, on was a photo of the boys he flew with. I often looked at that photo. I was drawn to it.

Here it is. My granddad is in the second row, third from the left.

I am grateful for his courage and for the courage of every soldier that has fought to defend the wonderful freedom I take for granted every day.

We took Millie to hear a tribute at one of the memorials in our little village. It was beautiful. Millie said to us, “I feel sad that the people died.”

We watched our little community parade where we were able to stand up and cheer for our local veterans – it felt so good to honor them.  And I was so happy when every one stood up as they passed. Good to know that despite the fact that everyone in NJ seems to be perpetually grumpy they do know how to show love and respect for our country’s noble veterans.

The parade was short and sweet. Really it was very, very sweet. I got a little choked up.

NOT Timp, but we can't all be Timp!

When the Harley dudes showed up Millie turned to me and said, “Oh, Mom! Just like Roman Holiday!”

When it was all over we headed for home.

To a fridge that had died.

I’ll save that story for another day.  It was not very fun and rather stressful to deal with. But all’s well that ends well – we have a new fridge in our kitchen as I type.

At the end of the day we headed over to the Riches for a BBQ, and it was swell. (Thanks again, Mike and Em!)

As we are an Anglo American family I wanted to remember our British brother’s who have laid down their lives in the cause of freedom. So, in honor of them here is ” The Soldier”, by Rupert Brooke.

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.