my veteran

those of you who know my political beliefs (and now the rest of you will know some) know already that i'm pretty opposed to war. i really do think that violence begets more violence. and i'm no genius, but i was pretty sure on 9/12 that war was imminent, and that it would be long and bloody. really, i'm nearly a pacifist. i know that doesn't work in the real world, but whatevs. i'm voting for peace.
that said, today is a special day. it's veteran's day, and my family has soldiers in it (ending with my generation). both my grandfathers served in WWII, one in europe, one in the south pacific. one of my grandpas met a woman with stigmata in germany, and my other grandpa was pictured in. . . crap. . . my memory fails. . . an important national magazine, while carrying out duties none of us should ever have to face. they were kind, decent men who went to war because they had to.
so did my dad. he was drafted when he turned 18 and sent to vietnam.
my dad is a hero.
he will never, ever, EVER tell you that, so don't even ask him. i'm telling you. It’s my opinion. And he’d be super embarrassed to hear it. And I know it conflicts wildly with my politics.
he went to vietnam, carried out his duties under the big red 1--charlie company--was wounded, was honored for his bravery, finished his tour, and was sent home honorably. a newsweek photographer happened to be following his company, and imagine my family's surprise when they saw his face on the cover of newsweek at the grocery store. (my family has a knack for media, i guess.)
he keeps his medals out of sight, and he almost never speaks of his time overseas, unless he’s telling me how I’d never make it in the army because I don’t like my food to touch on my plate, or some other benchmark of toughness I should aspire to.
But despite his relative silence on the topic, his experiences have left an indelible mark on my whole family, and I have a greater appreciation for what soldiers give up and contribute to our world. They are more than the numbers you hear on the news. They are all heroes.
A soldier who lived down the street from my parents was killed just a few months ago. In the paper this Sunday, they had a little profile about him. I didn’t know him, even though he was my parents’ neighbors (down the block), but when he died, a flag was flown outside, and lots of soldiers came to the house to honor him. He loved to make breakfast for his family and sing them songs. He learned how to quilt so he could spend more time with his wife. He gave his life for his calling (whether or not you feel that is just, or fair, or even in defense of our country). He sacrificed, and now his young family has, too.
And even if you don’t agree with the war now, there are all these soldiers—and the people affected by them; family, friends—who are awaiting their arrival home, hopefully whole, both mentally and physically.
I hope someday we get to a point where veteran’s day seems as antiquated as george washington’s birthday. . .some long-ago time, where we can’t even comprehend how people warred. (or, I guess, wore wooden dentures . . . ok, not a good analogy).
But until then, even though I oppose the war, any war, I plan to celebrate these soldiers and their lives. And my dad. Because he’s my dad. And he’s a former army man. And he’s amazing. And, really, he’s all about peace, too.