Good morning, everyone.

When I was growing up, Memorial Day was one of my favorite holidays. It heralded the offical beginning of summer. In rural Indiana, school had recessed until fall, and the weather had warmed up enough to have the first barbeque of the season--ribs, burgers, those marvelous Brink's franks, potato salad, and friends and family getting together.

Also, living near Indianapolis, it meant the running of the Indianpolis 500. My family first bought tickets in--gulp--1959. We've had the same seats since 1964. My parents and I attended every year until 1970 when my husband joined us.

Eventually, my folks gave up going, and my sons began attending in 1986. Now, my husbnad and I live 1800 miles from the Brickyard, and quite frankly, I can't climb those five flights of stairs to our seats anymore.

So, my oldest son and his family carry on the tradition. Kevin is a sportsaholic, and my daughter-in-law, Lisa, is very understanding about his adoration of driver, Sarah Fisher just as he is of her hero worship of Thomas Scheckter. This year, my grandson Corey will be attending for the second time, the fourth generation to enjoy the "Greatest Spectacle in Racing".

But Memorial Day is not about summer vacation, barbeque, or auto races. It's about remembering our men and women in uniform who have given their lives for what this country believes, and saluting the dedication of those currently serving. May everyone be safe this weekend--travelers, racers, friends, family, and our military personnel.

Until later.

Suzanne