It’s Veteran’s Day.
For many years, this was a complete non-holiday for me, mostly because of ignorance. Then, as a teacher, it began to really be on my radar as something more important to commemorate. As a parent, I see my daughter experiencing it mostly as a day off school.
When I worked at BMMS, we always had an assembly. It was one of my favorites of the year. The band learned the songs of each branch of the army, and parents and grandparents of students would attend the assembly in uniform and proudly stand up when they heard the anthem of their branch of service. It never failed to bring a tear to my eye when I saw old men, some unable to stand, proudly lift their shoulders and salute when their song played. Lisa Dickson and her crew would sell red poppies, which we wore pinned to our clothing. I didn’t know about the poem, “In Flanders Fields” before that time, but it’s such an poignant reminder that this day holds deep emotion for so many people. The poem was written after its author witnessed the death of his friend on the battlefield. The flowers – they grew profusely on battlefields and graveyards where the earth had been disturbed. I can’t imagine the horror of being in the fight, coupled with the profound sense of loss when it was all over. My perspective on this holiday is too shallow.
This summer, my family & I stood beside the road for a long time, waiting to pay tribute to a 19-year-old young man who didn’t plan to return from Afghanistan in a flag-draped casket. Reports that there may be some picketers brought an army of Freedom Riders, the rumble of their bikes intended to silence any disrespect. My father, son and I ate lunch at that day in a restaurant immediately beside the church where the funeral was to be held. It was packed with Freedom Riders, and a table-full of Marines in dress uniform. Luke made them smile, when he observed, in a little-boy, stage-whispering fashion, “They all match.” What a sad reason to match. Dressed up to give a proper send-off to a 19-year-old young man.
Photo: http://www.northescambia.com/?p=65692
That was this summer. I saw his mother taking a walk near her house the other day. Life had to go on for her. Surely the least I can do is remember her son and the sacrifice that so deeply touched her family.
There are many others among my friends who have served and are serving. They have left mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, children, friends — a sacrifice in and of itself. And even though it’s hard to see exactly how my tiny corner of the world has been affected, it’s obvious to me that the freedom that we have in an over-arching sense is no accident.
We’re even free to NOT celebrate or recognize veterans at all.
But today, I am.
Thank you, fine men and women, past and present, of the United States Armed Forces.
