Honor Guard
To continue with our trip to Anchorage on Wednesday...
We arrived in the big city by mid-morning and spent about two hours running errands--pricing refrigerators, finding where we can buy DTV converter boxes and picking up fitting for our hot water boiler.
When I lived in Fairbanks, I never understood the fascination our bush-living friends had with shopping every time they got to town. After we had lived in Nome for a while, I understood. And now, even though I have access to the Internet and from Homer we are within a two-hour drive of decent stores, a trip to Anchorage always entails leaving town with a vehicle packed to the gills with staples and sundries and the hard-to-find objects of our obsessions.
But the primary reason for our trip was to attend the funeral of our neighbor, who passed away last week. So after noon, we worked our way north toward Fort Richardson for the services.
There was quite a nice area in the National Cemetery for the services. I haven't been to many military funerals so I was surprised by the honor guard standing watch and the trumpeter waiting by the gazebo. I imagine the setting is spectacular on a clear June day but the softly-falling snow and the silent, dark trees, wrapped in fresh snow, gave the moment a solemn dignity.
There was a delay in the arrival of the remains, but the honor guard stood by, respectfully waiting to honor the old veteran. I admired their patience and discipline. And these pictures were taken before the snow flurries moved in and the wind began to howl through the trees. Even in the gazebo, somewhat sheltered, our feet grew cold and our faces were lashed by blowing snow.
Still, it was a beautiful and moving ceremony as another of the Greatest Generation was laid to rest.
We arrived in the big city by mid-morning and spent about two hours running errands--pricing refrigerators, finding where we can buy DTV converter boxes and picking up fitting for our hot water boiler.
When I lived in Fairbanks, I never understood the fascination our bush-living friends had with shopping every time they got to town. After we had lived in Nome for a while, I understood. And now, even though I have access to the Internet and from Homer we are within a two-hour drive of decent stores, a trip to Anchorage always entails leaving town with a vehicle packed to the gills with staples and sundries and the hard-to-find objects of our obsessions.
But the primary reason for our trip was to attend the funeral of our neighbor, who passed away last week. So after noon, we worked our way north toward Fort Richardson for the services.
There was quite a nice area in the National Cemetery for the services. I haven't been to many military funerals so I was surprised by the honor guard standing watch and the trumpeter waiting by the gazebo. I imagine the setting is spectacular on a clear June day but the softly-falling snow and the silent, dark trees, wrapped in fresh snow, gave the moment a solemn dignity.
There was a delay in the arrival of the remains, but the honor guard stood by, respectfully waiting to honor the old veteran. I admired their patience and discipline. And these pictures were taken before the snow flurries moved in and the wind began to howl through the trees. Even in the gazebo, somewhat sheltered, our feet grew cold and our faces were lashed by blowing snow.
Still, it was a beautiful and moving ceremony as another of the Greatest Generation was laid to rest.
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