Memorial Day<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t remember growing up with any specific \u201cMemorial Day\u201d activities.\u00a0 My parents were both veterans; unusual for the World War II, \u201cGreatest\u201d generation.\u00a0 My Dad was a Warrant Officer, part of the Army finance operations.\u00a0 My Mom, a British citizen (she never gave it up) was an agent of the Special Operations Executive.<\/p>\n
Memorial Day was many days during the year, with parties in the \u201cliving room,\u201d bourbon, scotch, and whiskey in tumblers and cigarettes in the boxes on the table.\u00a0 The conversation often turned to what they did during the war.\u00a0It allowed me to grow up with a special awareness of the impact of World War II; after all, I wouldn\u2019t have been here without it.<\/p>\n
My Mom and Dad met in London, a blind date at the Queen\u2019s Brasserie restaurant. (As a child I wasn\u2019t really sure what the Queen\u2019s Brassiere\u00a0<\/em>was all about.) He was from Cincinnati, stationed in England waiting for the invasion, she was home in England, back from being behind enemy lines making preparations to invade.\u00a0 According to them, they fell madly in love at the first dinner and walked the blacked out streets as the bombs fell.<\/p>\n There wedding was scheduled for June 6, 1944.\u00a0 In early March they were both notified that they would be unavailable for that date (it turned out to be D-Day) and the wedding was moved up to March 27th<\/sup>.\u00a0Soon after, Dad went to a secure base outside of Southampton to wait, and Mom went back over to France to coordinate with the Maquis.<\/p>\n They both managed to survive the ordeal of the last year of the war.\u00a0 They came home, back to Cincinnati, with drive and determination to start a family and make their life strong and successful. \u00a0Their friends did as well. \u00a0Art ended up serving in both World War II and Korea.\u00a0 Buddy commanded segregated troops before the invasion.\u00a0 Walter was a prisoner of war. \u00a0We grew up with their stories.<\/p>\n It was never a question about honoring their service.\u00a0 They knew they had saved the world from Fascism, and we recognized their sacrifices.\u00a0They had missing friends; the stories of those who didn\u2019t come home.\u00a0 My Mom\u2019s fianc\u00e9 (before my Dad) was one of those.<\/p>\n As I grew up in the throes of the Vietnam War (I was a couple of years too young to go) it was a difficult contrast:\u00a0 the sacrifices my parents made to \u201csave the world\u201d versus the sacrifices my older friends were being asked to make in Southeast Asia.\u00a0 And even a more challenging distinction:\u00a0 being against the war without being against those who fought it.\u00a0\u00a0Memorial Day was difficult.\u00a0America didn\u2019t get that part right then, and we still owe those folks now.<\/p>\n Later, as a teacher and coach, I had the privilege and fear of watching many of my students go to serve.\u00a0They were in Lebanon when the barracks were bombed, Iraq when the scuds were launched; they served as special operators in Iraq and snipers in Afghanistan.\u00a0 Today they serve on Navy ships, fly Air Force planes, drive Army tanks and proudly wear Marine dress blues.\u00a0 They take the lessons of our classroom, and maybe more significantly, the family of our team; and use those early experiences to help keep our country safe.<\/p>\n So it\u2019s Memorial Day.\u00a0Today, and most days, I think about the sacrifices of those who have passed, both from \u00a0the Greatest Generation and my friends who served in more recent times.\u00a0 As the rabid politics of our time cloud the field, there is still one thing that is clear:\u00a0 remember and honor those who serve.\u00a0 They\u2019ve earned it.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"