There is something about blackberries that is so completely all-American.
You have the red and ripening blackberries which have yet to turn colors.
You have the mature blackberries which, in all honesty, are more of a bluish purple.
And finally, you have the white highlights added to the berries by the sunlight.
Red, white, and blue.
It's fun to watch children bending over blackberry bushes, picking the ripe berries, the juice staining their hands a purplish hue. There's a great chance of being snagged by thorns, but those scratches on their little arms merely adds to the feeling of victory as they plop a few in their pails and more in their mouths.
When I see blackberries, I think of America. And it's difficult to think of America without remembering those that gave their all so that we might be free.
I know that yesterday was Memorial Day and I love celebrating it as much as anyone. But we should also remember those that have made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom every day of the year. Those that made it possible for children to pick as many handfuls of blackberries as they want without fear or worry.
So the next time you see or eat a blackberry...