Happy Day and the Flute

Yesterday we had the nicest time - it was Mom's birthday and we celebrated it in town at the Irish Pub. We had appetizers, drinks and excellent conversation. I won't say how old Mom is but she sure doesn't look her age - not that that age is old to begin with . . . . I'll quit while I'm ahead on that one :-)

Today as I was changing out of my well-loved but too well worn combat boots and uniform and into my large comfy sweater and too tight pants (sigh) I noticed my flute up on the shelf in my closet. I've not had that out in quite a long time so I put it together to see if I could still carry a tune (but really to see if it would mess with the dog - no wonder he's so ornery). I couldn't tell you where any sheet music is - what I once had would probably be too old and yellow to even read anymore - but I belted out a few Christmas tunes on it and the flute part from "Nights in White Satin" - probably the flutists answer to "Stairway to Heaven" for rockers. The dog's ears perked up and down, he barked once, but he never cried. He was more curious than anything. So after I'd had my fun I took my flute apart and cleaned it and the strangest thought occurred to me. I realized that never in a million years when I would clean my flute in 5th and 6th grade did I ever imagine that over 25 years later I'd clean my rifle in much the same way. It was really the most surreal feeling. Cleaning the flute involves running a metal "stick" - for lack of a better word - with a cloth attached through a loop in the end of the stick - down the length of the inside to soak up all the spit. In much the same way, we use "sticks" with barrel cleaning cloths to pick up the carbon in the barrel of our M16s - well now M4s. I was repeating the same routine I'd done all those years ago, although the "instruments" are used for widely different things. One is used to make beautiful music and the other to protect me and kill the enemy if the need ever arose. It probably sounds corny and stupid, but both of those instruments mean very much to me in a way I can't quite explain and cleaning them is a labor of love. I cannot believe it took me until today to make that connection after all these years.