Heather Hodges

My Grandma Ola finally went home on Tuesday night.  She would have been 87 years old on November 7th, and one of the things she and I talked about not long ago was how full her life had been.  I’ve always seen her as a Renaissance woman; she had so many experiences in her life and has seen many many things.  For example, in 1977 she traveled completely around the world.  We were living in Isfahan, Iran at the time and she came all the way from El Paso, Texas by herself to see us.  What an adventurous spirit!  She helped my parents pack up our home and take care of my brothers and me as we took a circuitous route back to the States.  We traveled from Iran to, New Dehli, to Bangkok, to Singapore, to Jakarta, to New Caledonia, to Fiji, to American Samoa, to Tahiti, to Bora, Bora, then home to the United States.  I’ve just spent the last hour reading through her travel journal/photo album of this landmark trip.  It was wonderful to read about our experiences in her own hand.  I even saw some pictures I’ve never seen before.  Here are some of my favorites (please excuse the quality).

Grandma “horsing around” at Persepolis, the palace of King Darius in Iran.

At the ruins of Persepolis.  Yes, all three of us have a #12 t-shirt on,  we were Cowboy’s fans of course.

At a luau in Bora Bora, French Polynesia.

On an outrigger in Tahiti.

Going through her albums reminded me of her lively nature and adventurous spirit.  She was always ready to live big.  Thanks Grandma for the lovely memories!

Cecilia de la Hoz and I met when we were 13 years old in 8th grade. Our dads were each working in France at the time and so our paths crossed while we were attending the American School of Paris. Cecilia is from Madrid, Spain and I am from Ft. Worth, Texas, but a fast friendship was formed and has lasted for 22 years (so far.)

The American School of Paris (ASP) is an international school and students from many different countries attend the school because their parents are in France for business, diplomatic reasons, etc. It has great academics but an excellent performing and visual arts program. My 8th grade art teacher, Mr. Kingsly, made an indelible impression on me and I can still hear his voice booming out encouragements over the class.

It was our first full day together in Paris and we set out to see our childhood homes and our old school.

This was my family’s home in Garches.

The Boulangerie/Patissierie by our home. The best baguettes and pastries in the WORLD!

We were met at ASP by Chris Chater the lower school music teacher and performing arts guru. He hasn’t changed a bit in 20 years….well except he has gray hair now instead of brown. This picture was taken in the classroom of Marie Wright, the mom of another of our good friends, Paloma.

In the middle school band room where Cecilia played clarinet and Paloma and I played flute. Our brothers were also in band at the same time, Houston on trumpet and Gonzalo on trombone. What a nice little ensemble we made.

By the old printing press at ASP, looking towards the gym and cafeteria. The upper school is on our right.

The softball diamond and soccer field and the old gym in the distance. It had been a great trip down memory lane. We looked at old year books and saw old teachers, friends and old crushes. We wondered what had happened to them all. We talked about how the school has endured bomb threats, a fire, and several floods. It was a joy to be there again twenty years later with one of the people who had made my experience there so memorable. Thanks Cecilia! The only thing missing was you Paloma!

During this weekend as we are remembering our fallen heroes, I want to tell you about my own fallen hero. His name was Paul Heflin, my grandpa. He married grandma, Ola Mae Gorman, 70 years ago while our country was recovering from the Great Depression. They struggled to make ends meet for many years, then in 1945 he was drafted into the US Army to fight in Europe leaving behind a wife and three small children. Many of you have seen the mini series, Band of Brothers. That movie has special significance for my family. Easy Company from Band of Brothers defended and fought in Hertigen Forest in the Battle of the Bulge. My grandpa was also there at that same battle. He was wounded but survived WWII and received the Purple Heart and was decorated with the Bronze Star for bravery. He returned home to his family in Texas where he made a living driving trucks for Safe Way. My grandma has been a Christian for many, many years and faithfully serves the Lord. A little over 10 years ago grandpa gave his life to Christ and was baptized; this was a significant event for our whole family. On February 14, 2006, after months of illness and struggle, he was buried with military honors at Heflin Cemetery in May, Texas. “The Greatest Generation” lost one of it’s best and brightest that day.

Several years ago, my dad along with my brothers and cousins took him to see the WWII Memorial in Washington, DC. I painted this for my Grandma last summer and it now hangs in her apartment in Abilene, Texas.

As you are packing the campers and coolers for your trip to the lake this weekend, please take a moment to remember why we have the Memorial Day holiday weekend. It was officially proclaimed as Decoration Day on May 5th by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on May 3o 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). Many Americans use the day to remember their loved ones who have passed on, but it was originally meant to honor the men and women who have died while defending our country. At 3:00 on Monday, May 28, pause for a moment to remember those who have died protecting our freedom.

In Flanders Fields
John McCrae, 1915.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.