We get beads, the color of which is determined by our connection to the cause. I'm wearing an orange bead, the loss of a sibling. The whites ones are for parents who have lost their kids. A lot of people carry several different colors. Lots of pictures of people in uniforms. One woman I spoke with said she'd lost six of her Army buddies in combat in Iraq and two to suicide due to PTSD. But people are smiling, talking, being friendly. It's strange to be among so many with a similar frame of reference.
There are teams of people walking in the memory of one person, usually, it seems, a young, happy-looking face. Lots of t-shirts tell us they're proud of the lives that ended.
These are tough people.