Thoughts on Veteran's Day - I turned eighteen in the spring of 1973, just a few months after the cease-fire agreement was signed that brought what President Richard Nixon called "peace with honor in Vietnam ." I registered for the military draft and was classified 1"H", for "Holding". As I recall that was because the federal government was uncertain whether anyone from my group would be called, but we all got draft lottery numbers just in case. I believe we were the very last group of 18-year-olds that ever did.
Six years later, when I finished graduate school, I had a couple of interviews with the Air Force, and though I considered it seriously, ultimately I chose the private sector, where I spent four years before moving into public service. I suspect popular perceptions of the post-Vietnam military played a role in that decision, however accurate they may or may not have been.
By the time the first Gulf War began in 1990, I had passed thirty-five, and it was another generation's turn to heed the call to arms. Other than relatively small engagements in Lebanon, Grenada, and Panama, the intervening years had seen the United States primarily at peace.
The moral of the personal history lecturette is to say that I've always recognized that it is purely an accident of the calendar that I was never called upon to serve this country in the military, and never had to make the kinds of sacrifices so many others have made, and continue to make on our behalf.
On days like today it's impossible not to feel a little bit guilty about that. Last February I had the privilege of walking the grounds of the American Cemetery on the shores of the English Channel in Normandy. It's a place I had long wanted to see, and it was a powerful experience. I thought about those 18-, 19-, and 20-year-olds, and how much they must've been like my buddies and I at that age. And about how many of them never made it home from France.
This morning, as I left the local Veteran's Day ceremony, a tall gentleman in a VFW hat stopped me, shook my hand, and said "Thank you for your service!" A little embarrassed, I quickly said "I appreciate that, but I have to tell you I'm not a veteran."
"I know who you are", he said. "And I want to say that I appreciate your service to the city, and what you do for us."
While I will say that particular comment may have meant more to me than any I've heard since I came to Sarasota, it is much more important that I say to this gentleman, and all the others he represents, with all due respect, sir, no. Thank you!
Six years later, when I finished graduate school, I had a couple of interviews with the Air Force, and though I considered it seriously, ultimately I chose the private sector, where I spent four years before moving into public service. I suspect popular perceptions of the post-Vietnam military played a role in that decision, however accurate they may or may not have been.
By the time the first Gulf War began in 1990, I had passed thirty-five, and it was another generation's turn to heed the call to arms. Other than relatively small engagements in Lebanon, Grenada, and Panama, the intervening years had seen the United States primarily at peace.
The moral of the personal history lecturette is to say that I've always recognized that it is purely an accident of the calendar that I was never called upon to serve this country in the military, and never had to make the kinds of sacrifices so many others have made, and continue to make on our behalf.
On days like today it's impossible not to feel a little bit guilty about that. Last February I had the privilege of walking the grounds of the American Cemetery on the shores of the English Channel in Normandy. It's a place I had long wanted to see, and it was a powerful experience. I thought about those 18-, 19-, and 20-year-olds, and how much they must've been like my buddies and I at that age. And about how many of them never made it home from France.
This morning, as I left the local Veteran's Day ceremony, a tall gentleman in a VFW hat stopped me, shook my hand, and said "Thank you for your service!" A little embarrassed, I quickly said "I appreciate that, but I have to tell you I'm not a veteran."
"I know who you are", he said. "And I want to say that I appreciate your service to the city, and what you do for us."
While I will say that particular comment may have meant more to me than any I've heard since I came to Sarasota, it is much more important that I say to this gentleman, and all the others he represents, with all due respect, sir, no. Thank you!
posted by Michael McNees at 5:08 PM
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