Red Fridays. Every Friday. Especially at the Holidays.

For my post for this month, I'm reprinting a blog message (sorry I do not have the name of the blogger to reference) I found on the internet. I thought it was beautifully written. Since so many of us are traveling during this time of year, either home, or on to loved ones, it was a good reminder of what Red Friday means to all of us who love our men and women who wear the uniform and do so much for us. As we get to enjoy our families and our freedoms, let's honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Least we can do.

A Story on the meaning of Red Friday Last week, while traveling to Chicago on business, I noticed a Marine Sergeant traveling with a folded flag, but did not put two and two together. After we boarded our flight, I turned to the sergeant, who’d been invited to sit in First Class (across from me), and inquired if he was heading home. No, he responded. Heading out, I asked. No, I am escorting a soldier home. Going to pick him up? No. He is with me right now. He was killed in Iraq. I’m taking him home to his family. The realization of what he had been asked to do hit me like a punch to the gut. It was an honor for him. He told me that, although he didn’t know the soldier, he had delivered the news of his passing to the soldier’s family and felt as if he knew them after many conversations in so few days. I turned back to him, extended my hand, and said thank you. Thank you for doing what you do so my family can do what we do. Upon landing in Chicago the pilot stopped short of the gate and made the following announcement over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to note that we have had the honor of having Sergeant Steeley of the United States Marine Corps join us on this flight. He is escorting a fallen comrade back home to his family. I ask that you please remain in your seats when we open the forward door to allow Sergeant Steeley to deplane and receive his fellow soldier. We will then turn off the seat belt sign.” Without a sound, all went as requested. I noticed the sergeant saluting the casket as it was brought off the plane, and his action made me realize that I am proud to be an American. So here’s a public Thank You to our military Men and Women for what you do so we can live the way we do.

Red FridaysVery soon, you will see a great many people wearing Red every Friday. The reason Americans who support our troops used to be called Very soon, you will see a great many people wearing Red every Friday. The reason Americans who support our troops used to be called the “silent majority.” We are no longer silent, and are voicing our love for God, country and home in record breaking numbers. We are not organized, boisterous or overbearing. Many Americans, like you, me and our friends, simply want to recognize the vast majority of America supports our troops. Our idea of showing solidarity and support for our troops with dignity and respect starts this Friday - - and continues each and every Friday until the troops all come home, sending a deafening message that...every red-blooded American who support our men and women afar, will wear something red. By work of mouth, press, TV – Let’s make the United States on every Friday a sea of red much like a homecoming football game in the bleachers. If every one of us who loves this country will share this with acquaintances, coworkers, friends, and family, it will not be long before the USA is covered in RED and it will let our troops know the once “silent” majority is on their side more than ever, certainly more than the media lets on. The first thing a soldier say when asked “What can we do to make things better for you?” is, “We need your support and your prayers.” Let’s get the word out and lead with class and dignity, by example and wear something red every Friday. Sharon Hamilton Life is one fool thing after another. Love is two fool things after each other. Author Page ** Sharon's Blog ** Sharon's Website ** Facebook**Twitter Sharon’s Newsletter he “silent majority.” We are no longer silent, and are voicing our love for God, country and home in record breaking numbers. We are not organized, boisterous or overbearing. Many Americans, like you, me and our friends, simply want to recognize the vast majority of America supports our troops. Our idea of showing solidarity and support for our troops with dignity and respect starts this Friday - - and continues each and every Friday until the troops all come home, sending a deafening message that...every red-blooded American who support our men and women afar, will wear something red. By work of mouth, press, TV – Let’s make the United States on every Friday a sea of red much like a homecoming football game in the bleachers. If every one of us who loves this country will share this with acquaintances, coworkers, friends, and family, it will not be long before the USA is covered in RED and it will let our troops know the once “silent” majority is on their side more than ever, certainly more than the media lets on. The first thing a soldier say when asked “What can we do to make things better for you?” is, “We need your support and your prayers.” Let’s get the word out and lead with class and dignity, by example and wear something red every Friday.

New Hot SEALs Series Release! SEALed at Midnight by Cat Johnson

A snowstorm brings together one hot SEAL and one lucky lady, and heats up Christmas Eve like never before in SEALed at Midnight!

Get it now in eBook and Paperback! 

The eBook is only 99 cents for release week

Amazon    ARe    Nook   Google    iBooks   KOBO   Smashwords

The Hot SEALs Series

Night with a SEAL - eBook, paperback, audio

Saved by a SEAL ~ eBook, paperback, audio

SEALed at Midnight ~eBook, paperback

Kissed by a SEAL ~coming March 2015

Of Christmases Past

This is the story of a family left behind when their Airman deployed to Vietnam and a little girl who still believed in Santa Claus. A little girl not so very different from the military brats of this generation.

For family members who have a better memory of this than me, don't rain on my parade! I was little, memories are faulty.

We were stationed at Myrtle Beach Air Force Base when my dad received orders to deploy. It was my dad, my mom, me, and my infant brother. So my mom, my brother, and I left the warm sunny climes of South Carolina to go live with my maternal grandparents in West Virginia. I remember the day my dad left. Being in avionics maintenance, my father was stationed in Thailand during his time in South East Asia.

Skip ahead to the Christmas season. For the school Christmas pageant, my class did a dance to "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree." I still remember the darn thing and if you see me when that song comes on the radio, you'll see my spastic feet moving. But really, I'm just dancing the routine. And spastic is in the eye of the beholder.

It's Christmas Eve at my grandparents and the tree is in the front window. I think there's snow on the ground. Like most kids, I didn't want to go to sleep, but knew I had to so Santa Claus could come. I have no idea how long I was asleep, but something woke me up. Wide awake. It was still dark out, so I didn't think it was Christmas morning. Plus, I could hear talking downstairs. Definitely not morning. Being the nosy person I still am, I went exploring.

I don't remember who all was downstairs, but I remember that my Aunt Jeannie (my mom's youngest sister) was missing. When I asked my mom where she was, my mom told me that she'd gone outside to check out Santa on the roof! Now we know what woke me up!

Of course I wanted to go check, but my mom tried to hustle me off to bed. But I KNOW I heard sleigh bells as I went up the stairs. Try going back to sleep after that bit of excitement!

Cut to Christmas morning and the celebratory gift giving. I only remember one gift I got that Christmas. It was wrapped under the tree and it said "From Daddy."

From Daddy??? All the way from Thailand? Inside that beautifully wrapped box was a yellow nightgown. It had a thicker bodice made of a looped material and a soft skirt. I wore that nightgown until I outgrew it and the loops stretched out. I wore that nightgown long after my father came home.

I kept that nightgown long after I outgrew it. It had a place of honor in my dresser drawer, surviving the purge that accompanied every move - from West Virginia to Louisiana, to North Carolina to Pennsylvania. I couldn't get rid of it. My father gave it to me.

Fast forward to high school. I was putting away clothes and my mother walked in my room. Probably to make sure I was actually putting them away and not just piling them around the room. She noticed the nightgown in my drawer.

"Why do you still have that?"

"Because Daddy gave it to me for Christmas when he was in Thailand."

"You do realize that he didn't actually send that to you from Thailand, don't you?'

"Ha! The next thing you'll be telling me is that Santa Claus isn't real."