During Wreaths Across America Day, my husband and I walked down a row of graves towards the macadam at Arlington National Cemetery to head to our car. I had my trusty trekking poles, but it was still slow-going for me in the uneven, hilly Section 33. As we got closer to the blacktop, Mister Rain said, “They don’t have the chain divider down. You’re going to have to climb over it.”
I was tired, I am legally blind and only 5’ 2”. This was going to be interesting. Stopping in front of the chain, I strategized. Once my first leg went over the chain, it was going to meet the curb, but it was a slanted curb, not exactly terra firma. Should I use the poles or the post positioned between each chain section? Deciding to go with the latter approach, I turned sideways, lifting my right leg up. Because of my vertical challenge, my lifted leg was below the chain. Leaning more forward toward the post I was holding onto for dear life, the worst possible thing that could happen happened.
I started to laugh.
In the the grass behind me, my husband did not approach me. The unspoken rule between us is that I will ask for help if I need it. Coming down the drive were two women and one man, probably about my age. The man came right up to me, “Let me help you.”
“I’m okay,” I confirmed to him. “I’ve started to laugh and can’t stop and that’s a problem.”
One of the ladies commisserated. “I hate when that happens!”
Gently reaching over the chain to my leg still suspended in low air (we had not yet achieved “mid” air), he slowly pulled it up so that it would clear the chain. Carefully planting my foot in the small area of grass on the other side of the chain rather than the sloped curb, I still had one more leg to go. Placing his hands lightly on my side to stabilize me, I was able to swing the second leg over.
“Thank you so much!,” I said, slightly embarrassed by all of this. “I am legally blind so that is why I was struggling a bit. The short legs didn’t help.”
One of he women responded. “He’s a physical therapist so he couldn’t help himself.”
The gentleman then surprised me by dropping into a squat in front of my left leg. “Your shoelace is really long. Let me fix it so you don’t trip.”
“Oh, my gosh,” I protested. “You don’t have to do that!” But it was already done.
I was one of the 27,000 people at Arlington National Cemetery on Wreaths Across America Day so this could sound as though I am boasting about my participation, but what I am about to say is directed at all my fellow wreath-layers at this incredible occasion of honoring and remembering our military members. Each and every person who volunteers for this annual privilege is a caring person or they would not be there. I should not be astonished by the kindness of any of these strangers. Yet I was indeed taken aback by this man and his actions. I was also touched and appreciative.
In a 600+ acre cemetery with thousands of good intentioned people everywhere, surrounded by the final resting places of 400,000 Veterans, the ultimate heroes, my path literally crossed with one of my own.
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