He was an incredibly talented actor. His career spanned two decades and his roles in both film and theatre garnered some of the most coveted awards that the acting world could bestow. By most standards Phillip Seymour Hoffman MORE
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Legacy Line Blog
Posted on March 03, 2014
A moment in time. A chance encounter that captures both honor and innocence. The story of a littleboy whose father, a soldier who was killed in war and how that little boy touched the life of another soldier is truly one of the most beautiful stories that I have seen and heard in a long time. Personal Heroes come in many sizes and shapes and colors as eight year old Myles Eckert illustrates. He was walking with his family when he found a twenty dollar bill in the parking lot of a restaurant. Visions of video games danced in his head as he discovered his prize but what happened in the next few minutes has touched lives all over the globe and especially one particular Officer, Lt. Col. Frank Dailey. This remarkable little boy saw the uniformed soldier and choosing to honor him, he wrote a note of thanks, wrapped the twenty dollar bill in it and handed it to the shocked Officer. Emotion, clearly evident on his face, Col Dailey spoke of how that simple act of kindness, respect and honor has affected his life. The story doesn’t end there though. After his family left the restaurant, Myles wanted to share his story…with his dad and asked his mother to take him to the cemetery to see him. His mother took a
photograph of the eight year old walking through the snow to stand by his father’s grave and tell him how he had honored his memory. It is this image, his footsteps in the snow, that burn in my memory, Thank you Myles, for reminding all of us that honor and innocence still exist within us.
Posted on February 25, 2014
By Randy Sutton
I wonder… am I alone? Am I alone in the sense of emptiness when I gaze at the photos of my Mom and my Dad as they tumbled forward through the passages of time? From the first moments when their lives together were etched forever in the black and white Kodak images, until the high resolution 35 MM photos that revealed how age had lined their faces and grayed their hair, hundreds, perhaps thousands of the photos and slides lay stacked in my closet. I wonder if I am alone in feeling melancholy knowing that I can never touch them again or drink in the warmth of their love? When I walk past the closet in my home office, I avert my eyes from the boxes stacked there. I know that I have room for them in my garage yet I cannot bear to put them there for I don’t want for them to be too far away. Or perhaps it is the feeling that if they were to be relegated to a space where such items as motor oil and dust gathering tools were stored, I would be dishonoring their memories in some treasonous way.
A day does not pass that I do not miss my Mom and Dad. I would refer to them as my Mother and Father which perhaps would be the proper use of their titles, but that is not how I referred to them in life nor is it how I thought about them from the time of childhood until we were separated by time. They will forever be my Mom and Dad in the portraits painted by my mind, just as the sound of the laughter they shared through the decades can never be erased from the soundtrack of my life.
Am I alone in my disbelief that they could be gone? I am a practical man, with graying hair of my own now. I have lived a complete life, full of the wonder of youth, the pain of the reality of life and the acceptance of inevitability and yet…. during the mists that settle upon me during that nether time between sleep and wakefulness, I often see my parents’ smiles and hear their laughter and feel the warmth of their love and I could swear that it is real. And then, no matter how hard I battle, I awake. And the mists clear and the only physical evidence of their visit are the tears that stain my pillow case. And I am left with a sense of loneliness that I have no right to feel.
I wonder if I am alone when I think of my own mortality. I know that I have many fewer days ahead than I do behind, and the array of prescription bottles lined up in my kitchen, bear an uncanny resemblance to that shelf in my parents’ kitchen not so very long ago. Perhaps I should be afraid of what awaits. For it is of course, death. It is the most inevitable experience of life, and yet it’s the most avoided topic in human discourse. Yet, when I think of death, I cannot help but to think of life and how it should be celebrated. Perhaps of all the lessons that my Father taught me it is that. I never knew a man who appreciated life more than he did. He spent every day, living his life to the best of his ability, touching those around him with his humor, his kindness and his wisdom. There could be no better legacy and I could never be more proud.
No, I don’t believe that I’m alone. Just as death is the one common human experience, love is the one common human emotion and the love that I have felt for my parents, unites me, with all who have loved. Whether that love be for a mother or a father…..a child or a brother…a sister, a life’s mate or a friend, once you have loved, you will never be alone.
Posted on February 13, 2014
My hero is my big sister. She has never done anything extraordinary but as cliche as this sounds, she lives each day as if it were her last. I admire her sense of adventure and although it has got her into a little bit of trouble, I wish I had just a little bit of her willingness to follow her heart. Her goal in life is simply to be happy and as a result of that, I have never seen her in a bad mood, she says it’s a waste of time. I can genuinely say that the world would be much better with a few more people like my sister.