Over the last few weeks, I have been thinking a lot about what Veteran's Day means. It was partly fueled by the upcoming holiday, of course. Add in a celebration at our church in conjunction with the national day of recognition, and it would have been tough to ignore, even if I wanted to (which I didn't.)
But my thoughts this time around have gone well beyond the usual superficial recognition that we give to those who have answered the call to defend our freedom and our way of life at this time of year. I have thought long and hard about who our veterans are and what they mean to me, both personally, and to our country. And I am not too pleased with myself, frankly.
I am, in fact, ashamed of my own ignorance, especially with regard to my relatives. I have realized, to my chagrin, that I don't even know what the men I have loved and respected my entire life did in their military careers. I am proud of their service, of course, and I have always honored their duty bound actions. But what do I really know about it? What branch of the service were they in? What rank were they? Where did they go? What were their days, and nights, like? What is it like to be in a war, where you never know what will happen, and life is tenuous? I don't know, because I have never asked.
I know my Uncle Albion drove fuel to the front lines, and participated in the Battle of the Bulge. I know he was commended by Charles de Gaulle himself for his service to France. But what do I really know of his time in the service? Not enough. How much more genuine my pride could be if only I knew more about his experience.
My Uncle Fritz was on a ship that got sunk in the Pacific. I heard the story as a child, I know bits and pieces, but like all the other uncles, he came home and lived his life and didn't really talk about that time, at least with me, no doubt at least partly because I failed to ask. I am ashamed that I didn't understand how important that would be someday, and disappointed to have lost that opportunity.
My Uncle Bud was in the navy, my Uncle Harris was with the army in Europe, my Uncle Harry was in Texas guarding POW's. All of them served with honor, I know, but what of their stories? What did they learn from their experiences? How did they go from being small town teenagers to soldiers and sailors defending out country? And most importantly, why did I fail to listen to the wisdom they had stored up?
Like military men for all time, they came home and got on with their lives, and war talk was something best reserved for discussion with other veterans. Civilians, especially children, were left out of the conversation, because we were not mature enough to understand or appreciate what they had to share. But I should have cared enough to ask, and I will always regret I lost that opportunity.
But it didn't end there.
The next generation had their war, as well. My cousin Jim, gone far too soon, can no longer share with me what he learned in Germany. I am certain that he had stories to tell, emotional battle scars to display, but I was too young to appreciate the sacrifice he made by simply going where he was asked.
My cousin Alan was overseas, and I have even less of an idea what he was up to. Neither do I know what experiences Bernie, or Morrie, or Kim, or anyone else I am related to went through during their time in the military. But I know they each had their journey, and it's important and a part of what makes them who they are today.
As we once again remember the sacrifice of our men and women who gave up what I take for granted so that I could continue to thoughtlessly live my life exactly as I choose, I realize I need to ask the questions, to hear the stories, to find out more about my own family history. If I truly want to honor those I love and esteem, I need to know their whole story. It is not enough to say I honor someone if I am unwilling to know what they have gone through on my behalf. At the very least, I ought to know where they served and what they did, and how they felt about it all. It seems like little enough in return for their making my world a better place.
I always get into trouble when I name the veterans in my own extended family, so I will pass this time. Instead, I am going to promise myself that I will make more of an effort to talk with those who are left, one on one, and ask them to tell me their story. I want to learn what being a veteran means to them. I want to hear, in their own words, what war is. I want to know if it was worth it, if they would do it again, if they have regrets and what they have taken forward.
Then, when I say thank you, it will mean something, both to them, and to me.
To each and every veteran on this day of remembrance, I owe you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. I hope you will share your story with me, and allow me the opportunity to grow and learn and become wiser through listening to you.
Instead of just Veteran's Day, this year I am celebrating Get to Know a Veteran Day. Please tell me your story. It is long overdue.
