Veterans Day snuck up on me a few days ago. No, I am not a vet. My father was in the Navy for 10 years, enlisted at 16, and got out as a seaman second class. I have always held a reverence for the men and women who served — especially those who volunteered.
It takes a special kind of person to step forward and take that oath to preserve and protect. Yes, some join because they don’t know what else to do with their lives, but it seems once they get out, they have a better idea. I think that says something about military training.
However, one cannot overlook how racism is still present in the military. One of the few stories my father told me about his time enlisted was how he did the opposite of the instructions given. He figured out ahead of time that they would assign him to be a cook, not what he wanted. By doing that, he became a pipefitter — another name for a plumber — and reached the rank of seaman second class. Which meant he relayed the orders from the Petty Officer, and when the men grumbled about what they had to do, he told them to take it up with the chief; he was only following orders.. Along with learning a trade, it turned into a lucrative side job when he mustered out.
When he got out, he was done — never talked to me or anyone about it. He enlisted at the tail end of the war; I can only guess he saw things he didn’t want to share. I never asked, and when he did, they were brief, leaving no time for questions — not that he would have shared any more than he already had. For someone who didn’t talk at all about his time in the Navy, he made a point of taking me to the Veterans Day Parade in Syracuse. It was a big thing for me, and I looked forward to it every year. But then religion entered the picture, and things changed, and going to the Veterans Day Parade became a part of the past, as did many other things. But one thing that stayed with me was the respect I had for those who put on the uniform.
I was at Panera’s, walking back to my table. I happened to see a young man in uniform engaged in conversation with, I guess, his wife or girlfriend, and suddenly realized it was Veterans day, so I stopped, shook his hand, and said ‘Thank you for your service’, he smiled, but the woman he was with had the biggest smile on her face. I like to think it was because I recognized the sacrifice he made in deciding to enlist, along with the apparent fact that she was proud of her man. As for me, it makes me think of my dad and all those who made the ultimate sacrifice in the service of their country.
I know some will read this and think I do it for some recognition, or perhaps I, too, was in the military and honoring a fellow brother in arms; neither of those is remotely correct. I learned long ago that if we didn’t have the military we do, we wouldn’t be enjoying the freedom we currently have. I also have friends who would chastise me for my actions because of how discriminatory the military has been. I understand, and it’s their right and privilege to voice their discontent, just as it is my right to disagree with them and continue doing what I do, and, for the moment, our military allows these opposing points of view to remain viable as they defend our rights to have and express them.
I shook the hand of a young man who has made a career of serving in this country’s military. He thanked me, and his wife smiled joyfully.
I went back to my table, sat down, and silently said, ‘Thank You, Dad.”
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