Does anyone else find it impossible to keep track of their iPod headphones? 

Lost mine again this morning. 

And yes, I’ve tried the iPhone Find My feature—but it isn’t granular enough to locate them when they're lost inside your own house.

Also, those headphone cases? Infinitesimally small, tomb-like. And white. 

Which means they hide in plain sight.

So off I went—Step, step, step down the stairs to check my rain jacket pocket.

Nope.

Step, step, step back upstairs to check the beloved gray velvet loveseat.

Nada.

And the irony? I lost them while listening to a Ten Percent Happier episode about distraction.

I’ll pause here to let that sink in.

Where did I finally find them? On the white shelf in the bathroom.
White AirPods in a white case on a white shelf.

White on white on white.

It was the third white thing that caught my attention this Memorial Day weekend.

The first?

I Googled on Friday why we’re not “supposed” to wear white until after Memorial Day—and then only until Labor Day. The Google AI summary answered quickly: the tradition dates back to the early 1900s, when the wealthy wore white during summer vacations at resorts. They could wear white because they were privileged and didn't do manual labor. They weren’t at risk of getting dirty.

Mmmm. 

The second white thing? Stone.

We visited Washington’s Crossing Park yesterday. 

Driving past the bagpipe and drum players, I was immediately overwhelmed—speechless—by rows upon rows of white headstones. 

All identical from a distance, like soldiers still standing in perfect formation.
But step closer, and you begin to see the uniqueness: each inscription etched with a name, a date, and a few final words.
“Forever in our hearts.”
“Gone too soon.”
“We love you, Dad.” 

Different names. Different backgrounds, ethnicities, races.


They came together—despite their differences—so we could have life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

So we can worry about when to wear white or freak out when tiny white headphone cases get lost.

It’s easy to be swept up in a Memorial Day weekend that feels like freedom.

Yet, it’s important to remember the millions who stood together to make our beautiful, ordinary moments possible.