Today in Maine and Massachusetts it is Patriot’s Day. For info about what it is, you can use Wikipedia or read an account over at PBS. Briefly, it recognizes the American Revolution at Lexington and Concord.

This year it falls on the 21st, which also happens to be the anniversary of when I began active duty in the U.S. Air Force in 1972. For those of you who have spent time in the military, you know what I’m talking about. That day - you remember how it felt, the smells, the faces, the anticipation, fear - it all comes flooding back. And like most significant life events, it carries a mix of sentiment.

The further away in time, I try harder to recall that I was ever that young and brave to venture into such an unknown. But if I’m able to put my mind there, I can smell the mildew of the fatigue jacket, the sweet heaviness of San Antonio at 3 a.m., and even make out some of the faces of young women who came from all over the country to participate in that strange process. The deeper I go into the memory, I recall minute details that I had not intended to remember. And what I try to remember - has faded. I look at the few photos that survived and it hits me: who is that person? And then the melancholy creeps in. Journey over.

I don’t recognize many holidays, but Patriot’s Day and Veteran’s Day hold special meaning.