Welcome to Paris park wedding venue

Our Story,

     People have asked, why did you name it Paris Park? The short answer, which I usually give people, is that my grandfather’s last name was Paris. When I was young, I spent many summers with my grandfather. My grandfather, or Pop as I called him, worked for the Parks Department. He knew all the good parks to visit and we spent a lot of time camping, fishing, and enjoying nature. Pop instilled in me a love for the outdoors and an appreciation for our parks system. 

     So that is the short story, but it doesn’t do Pop justice. If I’m going to dedicate this park in Pop’s memory, I need to tell the whole story and what Pop meant to me. As I said, when I was a child, I spent many summers at my grandparent’s house. The first night I ever spent with them is something I will never forget. I was excited that I got to sleep in my grandfather’s room. Pop was a World War II combat veteran. I had heard many stories about how he was wounded and had survived. Pop never spoke to me about his time in the war, but I had heard some stories from my parents. As we got ready for bed, I noticed the holes in Pop’s leg, where the bullets had penetrated his skin. There was also scars from the shrapnel that tore his flesh. The wounds had healed many years prior, but the scars were still visible. I went to sleep that night realizing that the stories were true and I was lying next to the strongest and bravest man I had ever known.

     As that night wore on, I would realize that I hadn’t seen all of Pop’s scars yet. It was the middle of the night when I heard that sound. I had never heard anything like it before then or since. A blood curdling scream that I can still hear today. After a moment of disorientation, I remembered where I was and that Pop was lying next to me. I knew if anyone could save me, it was him. I reached for Pop, but he wasn’t there. I soon realized that it was Pop that was in trouble. He was the one screaming out in pain or fear. My mind raced. What could be terrorizing the strongest and bravest man I had ever known. Although I was terrified, I knew I had to help him. As any child may believe, I knew light was the way to help Pop. It would certainly scare off what ever had a hold of him. I finally mustered the courage to leap off the bed and flip on the light switch. There was no monster, there was only Pop, laying on the floor with his hands covering his head. As I stood and watched this man curled in a ball, on the floor, I couldn’t help but wonder what could cause him to act this way. My grandmother would eventually pull me out of Pop’s room and explain that it was just a dream. I kept pushing her for answers, but I would only get “the war”. 

     I never slept in Pop’s room again. From the living room, where I usually slept, I would hear Pop wondering through the house at night. The house was old and anytime there was a strange noise, it would be followed by the sound of Pop turning on his old flashlight. I wonder if that man ever got a full nights rest.

Over the years, I would hear stories about what happened over there. Some would say that the same shrapnel that tore Pop’s flesh also killed Pop’s best friend. They said Pop laid in a fox hole with his dead friend for days until he was rescued. Whenever I would ask Pop about the war, he would just shake his head and change the subject. I don’t know if he thought I couldn’t handle it or it was just his burden to carry. After I returned from the Persian Gulf, I asked him again, about what happened over there. I thought I had earned the right to know since we were both veterans now. Still he just shook his head and changed the subject. I may never know what happened over there, but I did learn some valuable lessons from Pop. Some wounds never heal and some scars can’t be seen. I hope you are proud of me Pop. I hope you are proud of how I am honoring your memory. I believe some day we will sit down and talk again. Maybe you will tell me your story then. 

Rest in peace

Pop

Our Mission,

     In honoring Pop and all of our American Veterans, we want to make it our mission to bring light to the devastating suicide rates among our vets today.

     We are losing service men and women at an alarming rate to suicide. It’s great to thank a vet for their service, but as a society, there has to be more that we can do. These are some of our bravest and best people our country has to offer. It’s a tremendous sacrifice for someone to volunteer to serve in our armed forces. Although you may see a vet that walks and talks normally, holds down a job, has a family, they still may be suffering. Some wounds cut deeper than any knife can and some wounds penetrate farther than any bullet. I don’t know what you can do and I’m not even sure what I can do. What I do know for sure, is that, I am a better person for having a vet in my life. I don’t think I would be who I am today without my grandfather. These people are important to our society and we have to do something to keep them in it. We will all be better for it.