I traveled to Florida on December 10 to watch my granddaughter’s soccer team play for Wellington High.  I usually fly Delta stopping on the way in Atlanta.  Now that I have learned to manipulate the Atlanta airport, it is a pleasant enough trip.  The airport is huge and a tram is used to get people from one concourse to another.  My MO is to check my suitcase in Boston and have it appear in West Palm Beach without having to drag it through Atlanta – worth every penny of the $25 charge.

My son was on vacation so we did all the touristy things like spending Sunday at City Place enjoying entertainment, eating at the Cheesecake Factory and seeing “Hugo” in 3-D in an enormous theater.  We also spent a day at the Norton Museum, a gem that has one or two of everyone’s paintings.  The temperature hovered around 80 all week. But our main attraction was high school soccer and cheering for the team.  I was even invited to their annual Christmas party.  It was fun to see the blue-uniformed athletes transformed into a group of gorgeous teens.

On the way home on Sunday December 18, the Delta flight was uneventful.  As we came in over the lights of Boston, the flight attendant asked us to please keep our seats after we landed.  There were several members of the military on board, home for the holidays.  Would we please stay seated until they got their luggage and got off the plane first.  And there they were – young men barely past childhood.  A couple wore dress uniform, a few in t-shirts, but most in the soft-color camouflage we have become accustomed to.  As we applauded and whistled, they walked proudly down the aisle. The last person was a girl in fatigues with her pony tail waving in rhythm with her step as she hurried to meet her family.

That slice of Americana will be with me long after the holiday season has passed.