Grandpa, Harry Hallman…Honor and Tradition

This afternoon our family gathered from all over the country in San Jose to honor Harry Hallman, the family’s patriarch, who passed away on Wednesday, November 14, 2007. It was a time of laughter, tears, memories, stories, love, family and military tradition. Among being a son, husband, dad, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather…he was also a retired Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force. His service garnered him the presence of the Air Force Honor Guard.

At the end of the memorial, 6 solders marched up on stage carrying a folded American flag. They proceeded to unfold it and then fold it back up in the all familiar triangle shape—military style. We then followed them to the courtyard of the church where there were four more soldiers standing at attention, three of whom were holding M-14s (assault rifles). One called out orders and the other three obeyed, swinging their guns around, aiming and firing three times into the air. The sound echoed in the courtyard. Then silence. The awe and respect was deeply apparent. Another soldier, standing in the corner, swung out a bugle and “snapped” it to his mouth. Three notes later, not a dry eye existed. The soldier continued playing the hauntingly beautiful and universally known tune to honor an American soldier who has passed—Taps.

I held myself together during the whole memorial service until those notes played. The emotional power of that tune, the heritage it holds, just melted me and I wept. We were witnessing a heritage and tradition that far preceded us and will far proceed us. This man, Harry Hallman, our grandfather, was being honored in a way few are, and the witness of it broke us in its presence. After the bugle stopped, the commanding officer turned to the family, extended the flag and spoke words of honor before surrendering it. Those who were not weeping, were now.

There is something to be said about tradition and ceremony when done properly, in respect and honor. It can move the soul and cause us to weep in the presence of him who is being honored.

A Daddy’s Nightmare

About two months ago, our one year old daughter, Ashlyn, was carrying a mid-to-high fever. She is normally a very energetic, active little girl, but on that afternoon she was just laying in our arms, moaning. All of a sudden, her body started convulsing and her eyes rolled up into her head. She was having a seizure. Jen looked at me and for a moment we just froze. A split second later we decided that since we live only a few blocks from the hospital it would be faster for us to throw her in the van and drive her ourselves than to wait for 911. Decision made.

We all loaded up into our green van. Jennifer held her in the front seat as Ashlyn’s body just shook. We hit our first stop light and Jennifer yelled, “She’s not breathing. She is not breathing.” I looked over at my little girl. She was blue. Her eyes were rolled up, motionless. Her body stiff and still. And I was stuck at a light. It turned green. No breathing. Bluer. Caleb (our son) was being so brave, but he was very nervous. I was freakin’ inside, but trying to remain calm and present. My little girl, blue and not breathing.

The light before the hospital, she began breathing again. Her color returned. She had been blue for about a minute or two. Her eyes resurfaced and she began moaning again. But she was breathing!! She’s alive. Once in the hospital, they got her fever down (which had spiked at 105) and within about two hours, she stopped moaning and our girl, whom we knew and loved, returned to us.

I just stared at her. For the longest time, all I could do was watch her. Her smile. Her eyes. Her walk. Her hands. Every move she made and every part of her body became miraculous. I just stared. Grateful.

I will NEVER forget those few hours. Life and our kids are gifts that can vanish in a blink.