Over time the holiday has evolved to honor the men and women who have defended the United States through service in the Army, Marine Corps, Navy, Air Force, and Coast Guard. Personally, I think of the sacrifices made by many friends who served in Vietnam and of all those who have served in the defense of the United States. In particular I think of family and the service of a great uncle in World War I and two uncles in World War II.
My Great Uncle George, standing on the left with his fire brigade in Jacksonville, Florida, served as a lieutenant in the U.S. Army in World War I. To him, this day was Armistice Day. I was ten when he died and didn't know him well but much of what he was as a veteran is present in my house. His portrait hangs just off our foyer. The pocket Bible he carried is in a keepsake cabinet nearby along with his military issue binoculars and a silver-plated swagger stick - a gift from his unit - made from machine gun shells casings and the Seal of the U.S. Army. The last item is one he never saw but it summarized everything he did as a soldier. That item is the flag that covered his coffin. To my knowledge, it's still in the original triangle fold made the day he was buried over 60 years ago.
The other family veterans from the world war era I knew very well. Uncle Hollis, better known as "Red," and Uncle Charles, both served in the Pacific during World War II. In 1943-44, Red was assigned to Barber's Point Naval Air Station in Hawaii while his brother-in-law, Charles, served at Pearl Harbor. The facilities were a mere five miles apart but almost one year passed before they knew they were neighbors. On hearing the news, they resolved to meet for a photograph at the first opportunity. Here's that photo, taken at Waikiki with Red (l) and Charles (r) together at last.
Both returned safely to their Potomac Valley hometowns in western Maryland but a declining economy in the region forced them to relocate to better job opportunities. Red moved his family to Ohio where he had a very successful career with Goodyear. Charles took his family to Houston, Texas, and its booming oil industry and prospered in real estate management. Both are gone now, along with their wives, Edith and Dorothy. All four of them were fine examples of the Greatest Generation.
My personal bond with Veterans Day came early in life. From the time I could hold a paint brush with serious determination - probably 1951 - I did my part to honor veterans. In the weeks before Memorial Day, Dad and I went to the local cemetery to paint flag holders and install Old Glory on the graves of veterans who had been members of my dad's lodge. The lodge had a seventy year history in my small town and scores of holders were scattered at random on the landscape. My instructions were simple: armed with primary yellow, blue and red paint, I was to paint carefully, leave no spatters, paint EVERY marker. The worst offense, by far, was missing a marker but Dad made sure that never happened.
On Veterans Day proper, there was a brief morning service from atop a small memorial building. At its conclusion, the crowds descended from the hilltop cemetery to either watch or march in what seemed like an endless parade down Main Street. It was straight out of a Norman Rockwell illustration: flags, bands, fire trucks, politicians, the ladies' auxiliary, the soldiers. It was a most impressive event.
Today I look back on those memories and a career infused with military history from the Revolution through the War in Iraq. I'll never experience how military service shapes a person inside but I know the cost of freedom is not free. Every veteran has paid a price that enables us to enjoy life in this bountiful nation. I offer up to all of them my sincerest admiration and thanks on this day.
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