Although the weekend went by quickly, it is one that had an impression on me. I had a great time taking in the flavors of fall at the Cranberry Festival with Keith & Jordan. There's nothing that quite reinforces fall's presence like the smells of cranberry muffins, home brewed root beer and apple turnovers along with hundreds of vendors selling everything from knit gloves to knock off pocket books. This small little area is transformed into a semi-carnival attracting thousands from all walks of life and for 48 hours this little patch of land becomes a tourist attraction. I look forward to it all going back to normal tomorrow where I pass a handful of cars on the way to the shore and there are more pine trees than people.
Before heading out to Chatsworth with the crew I spent the morning at Freedom Park in Medford. A little over a hundred people gathered for the unveiling of a monument raised in memory of soldiers who lost their lives in service within our surrounding communities. Young and old were gathered all for the same reason, to pay tribute to someone that they knew who gave their life for our country.

As I stood among men and women in uniform, young children holding flags and family members holding back tears it was nothing short of powerful. Each day we wake, drink our coffee, head to work, head home, spend time with family and head to sleep only to do it all over again. For the majority of us we don't think twice about the possibility of a terrorist ramming into us on the way to work or grenades being hurled at us while playing at the park with our children. We are a free nation. We are a nation laden with privileges, blessings and abundance. We are also a nation, too often, with a short memory.

Everything that we encounter on a daily basis came with a price tag and it was a hefty one at that. Men and women who strapped on their boots, wore our country's uniform and battled in far off lands to ensure our freedom; some returned, some did not. Standing under a sky of blue watching our nation's flag flapping in the wind as mothers and fathers touched the names of their children etched onto the black granite monument my heart swelled with pain for them, but pride for our country.
I rolled out of bed earlier that morning with a lump in my throat thinking of a young man that I hadn't seen in a long time. Driving the short few miles to Freedom Park seemed eternal with faces and memories that flooded my memory. I too, was among the one hundred plus who knew one of the thirteen young men. Scrolling down the list of names, there was one that tugged even stronger at my heart. Jared Michael Leonard.

Jared was a boy that I grew up with who turned into a man that wore our nation's uniform and paid the ultimate sacrifice. I am forever grateful to Jared and the countless who served, fought and paid the greatest sacrifice. Thank you, Jared, you will never be forgotten.

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