Proud Of Pop

Something's been nagging at me all day. It's Veteran's Day, as you all know, and I really didn't pay enough tribute to the veteran in my life -- my own father.

I told you in the previous post that he fought in the Vietnam and Korean Wars. I was a tween then, and going off to war was just my father's job. It's what he did. Some people's fathers work in construction, some are lawyers, some fight fires. My father fought other men. It was his job, and I never understood the importance -- and magnitude -- of it, really. But I do now, all these years later.

This past summer, my daughters and I went to Wisconsin to see our first pow-wow. My father had the privilege of carrying the American flag for our tribe because he is the highest decorated Air Force officer in the Oneida nation. (That's a BIG deal!) He carried the flag stoically, pridefully, and I could see how much he was respected by other veterans. (That's him in the photo.) For the first time ever, I understood that soldiering wasn't just my father's job, it was, and is, his identity. It is the centerpiece of his life. It is his heart.

My father and I don't always see eye to eye. Who am I kidding . . . we fight a lot! I know I don't say this often enough, but I am proud of you, Dad. And I hope you got all the respect you deserved today on your day, Veteran's Day.

Take A Moment

Image by J.H.Gray via Flickr Today is Veteran’s Day. For most parents, this means a day off of work, no school for our kids and for the lucky ones, the tail end of a four-day weekend. Before you motor over to the park with your children or meet a friend for a matinee, give some thought to why you are able to enjoy these wonderful freedoms that we Americans have. Freedoms that look so tantalizing from outside our borders, that more than 20 million illegal immigrants have crossed over them to relish the American way of life, too.

Veteran’s Day is the day to commemorate all those brave soldiers – living and dead -- who have put themselves in the line of fire for us, in every war in America’s history. I come from a long line of warriors, a bloodline which really came in handy during my tumultuous 10-year marriage. (I can laugh about that now!) My great grandfather, an Oneida Indian, fought as a conscript in the Civil War and returned home crippled.

My paternal grandfather is one of the last surviving members of the Lost Battalion, a group of about 547 soldiers who were trapped in the Argonne Forest by German forces and were being slaughtered. When the US forces finally arrived, less than 200 men were left of the 77th division. My grandfather was one of them. He was eventually awarded a purple heart and when he died a natural death many years later, he was buried in Arlington National Cemetery, not too far from the gravesite of President Kennedy.

My own father was an Air Force pilot and navigator who fought in the Korean and Vietnam wars. He flew 18 tours of duty, which included 663 missions. He was awarded three Distinguished Flying Crosses and 18 air medals.

We were lucky – my relatives returned from their wars alive. And I am so grateful for that. Yet so many of our soldiers die on the battlefield, their families never to see them again, just so people they didn’t even know can sleep peacefully at night under the banner of freedom.

Today, take a moment to say “Thank you” to all the sons and daughters who have willingly fought for our country. We owe them our lives.