A Moment of Truth...

This video captures quite nicely the feelings that I and many other and many other Vietnam-era veterans have upon witnessing the respect so often commanded by our soldiers today.  On the one hand, as veterans ourselves, we know how much those big “thank yous” mean.  On the other hand, we got no such wonderful treatment ourselves – in fact, often quite the opposite.  Most service men and women in the time that I served would avoid going off military facilities in uniform – as being in uniform (most especially before about 1974) was an invitation for abuse by our fellow citizens.  We certainly didn't feel cherished – or even tolerated.  Watch:


Last year I posted about a colleague of mine who gave me a big hug, a big “thank you!” and a Starbucks card on Veteran's Day.  That was the very first time any of my fellow citizens have ever thanked me for my service (at that point over 30 years in the past!), and I was quite moved by the gesture.  She did it again this year, and again I'm smiling every time I use that card. 

I take every opportunity I can to say thanks in a meaningful way to a service man or woman I meet.  I'm going to try to find ways to do the same for those veterans who, like me, were not thanked while they served...

Honoring a Veteran...

Reader Jim M. passed this along:




The backstory: the award is given to entertainers or other celebrities by the Veterans Foundation.  This was filmed at the 2002 award ceremony.

A Veterans Day for Me to Remember...

For years now, basically since 9/11, I've gone out of my way to honor the men and women who serve in our armed forces.  It's become second nature for me, most especially when I'm traveling.  Just this past week, for instance, I connected through Charlotte, North Carolina – and while in the airport I struck up a conversation with a young man in Army uniform.  Turns out he was headed to a school, and then back to the Middle East.  I invited him to join me for a Starbucks coffee and a little food, and found a good opportunity to say “thanks” in a heartfelt way.

One of the reasons I do this is my own experiences while in the Navy in the '70s; I've blogged about these before.  Suffice it to say that while I was in uniform, I never had the experience of a friendly stranger buying me coffee and saying “thanks” in a way I'd believe sincere.  Quite the opposite.  But I've often wished I'd had that experience.

I'm no longer in uniform; I've been out of the Navy for more than 30 years.  But today – for the first time ever – I had an experience something close to this.  A colleague of mine (whose name I don't have permission to use, and therefore won't) sent an email to myself and another mutual colleague, whom I'll call “J.” (since I don't have permission to use his name, either).  With minor edits to maintain anonymity, here's the email:

J. and Tom,

Just a moment to say thanks to the only two Vietnam War vets that I really know (I think).

We are living at a time of war, the first one that I have first hand witness to in a way that I can understand. I see how the vets are revered and how their work and service is honored. I see the concern and care for the invisible wounds warriors come home with.

My memories of the Vietnam War are vague, I was young. What I know, though, is that what I see now is very different than what I remember seeing, however vaguely, back then. The people that cheered for soldiers; the people that welcomed them home; the people that cared about the invisible wounds were very few and far between and didn't have anywhere near the voice that people that opposed the war did.

But they were there. And my dad was (is) one of them. I learned from him the importance of the work of all who served and the depth of their sacrifices. I learned from him to cheer loudly when vets passed by on Veterans Day. I learned from him to look for and reach out to those who served. I learned from him to have respect.

As time has passed, our country has come to rethink and regret the collective attitude towards Vietnam Vets, though I am afraid for many vets, this was too little too late. But I do believe that it is the lessons learned in that attempt to reconcile that has given way to much of the honor our current warriors are extended. And for that, we all owe Vietnam Vets a certain and very sincere debt of gratitude.

If my dad had met either of you back then, he would have shook your hand. He would have cheered loudly as you passed by. He would have honored your service. He would have offered you a cup of coffee. He wasn't with you then, but I am here now. And in honor of today as Veteran's day, in honor of the lessons learned from my dad, and in honor of your service to your country - I would very much like to buy you a cup of coffee!

Some things can't be undone. Some things can't be forgotten. But it's my sincerest hope that it is never too late to say thank you.

Thank you so much, for your service. And thank you for what your collective experiences have brought to my life and my career all these years later.

To say I was stunned would be a significant understatement.  All these years later, someone said “thanks!” to me.  It's some hours later as I write this, and I'm still shaken by the experience.  I guess I never expected anyone to just say “thanks” to me...

Just to be clear: I'm a Vietnam-era vet; I wasn't actually in-country in Nam.  Nor was I directly in combat.  I was a sailor on a ship that supported combat air operations in Nam.  I fixed computers (the mainframes of the day).  I was a warrior only in some metaphorical sense.  But I was a member of our armed forces, and served for six years.  And now someone has said “Thanks, Tom”...

Uncle Jack...

Just watch it.  Via reader Dr. Simi L.:

On Veteran's Day...

Some words for the occasion from President Ronald Reagan:

Sometime back I received in the name of our country the bodies of four marines who had died while on active duty. I said then that there is a special sadness that accompanies the death of a serviceman, for we're never quite good enough to them-not really; we can't be, because what they gave us is beyond our powers to repay. And so, when a serviceman dies, it's a tear in the fabric, a break in the whole, and all we can do is remember.

It is, in a way, an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country, in defense of us, in wars far away. The imagination plays a trick. We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise. We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray haired. But most of them were boys when they died, and they gave up two lives -- the one they were living and the one they would have lived. When they died, they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers. They gave up their chance to be revered old men. They gave up everything for our country, for us. And all we can do is remember.

There's always someone who is remembering for us. No matter what time of year it is or what time of day, there are always people who come to this cemetery, leave a flag or a flower or a little rock on a headstone. And they stop and bow their heads and communicate what they wished to communicate. They say, "Hello, Johnny," or "Hello, Bob. We still think of you. You're still with us. We never got over you, and we pray for you still, and we'll see you again. We'll all meet again." In a way, they represent us, these relatives and friends, and they speak for us as they walk among the headstones and remember. It's not so hard to summon memory, but it's hard to recapture meaning.

And the living have a responsibility to remember the conditions that led to the wars in which our heroes died. Perhaps we can start by remembering this: that all of those who died for us and our country were, in one way or another, victims of a peace process that failed; victims of a decision to forget certain things; to forget, for instance, that the surest way to keep a peace going is to stay strong. Weakness, after all, is a temptation -- it tempts the pugnacious to assert themselves -- but strength is a declaration that cannot be misunderstood. Strength is a condition that declares actions have consequences. Strength is a prudent warning to the belligerent that aggression need not go unanswered.

Read the whole thing here...

Message From A Vet...

You don't want to miss the end of it.