Veteran’s Day, November 11, is the official US holiday that observes those who have served in our United States armed forces.

We celebrate this day on November 11^th, as it is the anniversary date of the end of World War I.

When I think of a veteran, of course, I think of the one that is closest to my heart.

My Dad.

I tend to paint a portrait, that of a young man, close to my son’s age. My dad was actually two years younger than my son, only seventeen years old, when he enlisted in the US Navy.

Barely on the edge of “adulthood,” timid yet adventurous, self-confident yet naive, I picture this young and lanky boy, leaving his Mama, his two brothers and sister, his friends, and the small Georgia town he had known all this life, to board a ship and serve his country.

Unknowing of what their future might hold, these “boys” left venturing off from the comfort of their homes, to be made men of the armed forces, many by choice.

I guess I get this visual from a letter I found a couple years ago while sorting out some of my parent’s belongings.

It was a letter from my Dad to my Gramma shortly after he had left home. He was letting her know that, yes, the Navy was feeding him, although it didn’t compare to her fine southern cooking, he was asking about his “baby” brother, and he was basically letting her know that he was okay.

I remember he ended it by saying that it was almost “lights out” and he apologized for the letter being so short but that they didn’t give the new recruits a lot of free time.

As I read this letter for the first time, I could see my young Dad wearing an undershirt, fatigue trousers and sporting his newly fashioned “crew cut,” hutched over a small writing desk in the middle of a crowded barracks, and quickly scribbling this note to his Mama before all sources of light would disappear for the night.

It was a sweet letter, possibly maybe even an attempt at calling a “truce” with her, as she was not pleased when he had informed her of his decision to join the military.

My dad served in the US Navy for twenty-two years.

The Navy was a way of life for him and our family. He married my Mom and they both collectively chose to serve their country.

They often moved, living overseas several times.

Wherever the Navy called him, my Dad would go, even if that meant periodically leaving his family to do so. This was what our family was used to.

Before retiring as a CTIC, Cryptologic-Interpretive Chief Petty Officer, he also worked as an Air Controller and a Naval Linguist.

After retiring from the military and starting his own business, my Dad met another veteran, Joe, who served in the US Marines. Their friendship grew over time, and I guess you could say they became the best of friends. They would routinely do lunches at the local VA cafeteria together, and soon became “regulars.”

Joe’s church started holding special Sunday morning services in November to honor veterans, and he and Joe would participate in the flag ceremony.

Both dressed in full uniform, shoes shined and the whole nine yards, these two would proudly march presenting the flags at the church’s altar.  Wearing stern and solemn faces, they would be in perfect step with each other, something they had been taught more than half a century ago, but performing as if they did this on a daily basis.

Some of my son’s favorite moments with his Grampa were when he would share about his Navy experiences. My Dad had always wanted to take my son to Arlington National Cemetery to witness the changing of the guard.

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is guarded twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year regardless of weather. The guard is changed every hour, on the hour in an elaborate ceremonial.

We were able to make this trip in June before my Dad passed away in August.

 

My Dad took a lot of pride in being able to serve in the military and would often wear his “US Navy Veteran” hat on a regular basis.

Several years ago, my son made it a point whenever he would see a gentleman wearing a military cap, to stop and thank them for their service, something he still continues to do.

I remember a recent account of this. It was when we were visiting a local ice cream parlor last summer. As I was paying for our ticket, I turned around to see my son approach an elderly gentleman who was sitting in the corner by himself wearing an Army veteran hat.

As eager as I was to get to our next destination, I decided to sit back down and give them time to chat, as I could see that my son and this gentleman were now in a deep conversation.

Once they were through talking I saw my son reach to shake this man’s hand.

The gentleman smiled and  looked as if he was brought to tears.

Later after we left, I asked my son what they had talked about.

My son said the gentleman spoke of his service and experiences in the US Army. He was a tank commander, and spoke of some of the struggles he faced being an African American while serving in the Korean War. He stated that when he returned home a hero, he was honored to have a monument in his hometown named after him.

“He also thanked me Mom, for thanking him?” My son told me perplexed.

He told my son he couldn’t remember when the last time anyone had thanked him for his service, and that it may have been when he returned from Korea decades ago.

He said that “thank you” was just something that he didn’t hear anymore.

Throughout their conversation, I had witnessed this man’s sad and lonesome demeanor transform into a proud and talkative delight.

As I sit here finishing up this blog, I have just come from my granddaughter’s elementary school where they held a Veteran’s Day program to honor those in our area that have served, or are now serving in the military.

My granddaughter proudly took in a photograph of her “Great-Grampa in Heaven” whom she never got the chance to meet, but who courageously served in our military and played a part in her freedom as well as her future grandchildren’s children, and so on.

His name and dates of service were displayed on the school’s “Wall of Honor.”

Each veteran has sacrificed much for our freedom, something many of us as civilians, myself included, take for granted.

We will never know the extent of those sacrifices that these young men and women and their families have made.

We don’t know what they may have witnessed during their times of war and service.

We don’t know the difficult choices they had to make on a daily basis.

But it’s because of their initial choice, to serve in the US armed forces, that we are able to be blessed with the freedom we have today.

So the next time you’re in Walmart, or maybe even your local ice cream parlor, and notice that gentleman with the retired veteran’s cap on, why not stop and thank him?

Whether it be Veteran’s Day, or any day.

Maybe even listen to a five-minute spill about the branch they served in, and their specific command while they served.

Time and a listening ear- it’s the least we could do to honor these men and women who gave more than five minutes but years, or even decades to serve our country for us.

Thank you Veterans, for your service, and thank you Lord for those that were, and are, willing to serve this great country we live in.