I remember.

This little memory of mine is a day late and a dollar short. But still.

I remember riding the school bus home one afternoon back in fifth grade, 1968, down along River Road in Huntington, Indiana.

I looked out the window and saw a burial taking place in a cemetery, with lots of red, white, and blue bunting and flowers. We passed by just as a bugler played "Taps" for some fallen Viet Nam soldier. I remember how sad that sound was, even though, at age eleven, I didn't totally understand what was going on.

Even today, I still cry at that mournful tune. Every single time.