When I was a freshman in high school my family visited Hawaii. I was there standing on a platform looking over into the ocean depths at the wreckage below. The tomb of so many sailors who never saw it coming. The emotions come back to me as I remember looking not too far below the surface of the ocean. I could almost touch it. It was haunting. I had heard the stories, watched news footage and movies, and even met survivors, but this was different. It made it real somehow. It made the loss so much more significant and disturbing.
While I wasn't a military brat I grew up with a strong influence of the military in my family. My dad served in the Navy. He, along with one of his four brothers chose to serve in the military. He got out just 11 days after I was born. My dad and his brothers were the military brats. Their father was a Navy Chaplain. Imagine that! The son of a Lutheran minister turned Navy Chaplain. I can't imagine. I love the stories though. Some are great and some are not.
After my dad got out of the military he had a job as a welding engineer. Our family moved across the country as he worked at various power plants. We lived in Pennsylvania, Michigan, New Jersey, and Ohio before we moved back to California. After a few more moves and the death of my maternal grandpa we settled down in La Mesa, California.
The influence of the military continued. My dad taught me how to clean. He taught me how to make my bed. He taught me how to respect authority. He taught me the sailor's language! He taught me and my siblings songs and rhymes that I have now passed on to my children.
My brother decided to join the Army shortly after he graduated high school. He became an intelligence analyst. While it may sound like an oxymoron my brother was great at what he did. He is brilliant and enjoyed his job. He served 16 months in Iraq after being stationed in Alaska.
My husband Damon also chose to serve in the Army. Damon did not grow up with the influence of the military. He grew up with other examples that led him to believe in supporting his family, working hard to earn his place in the world, in serving those that needed him, in being an example of love, sacrifice, and service.
Damon joined the military just three months after we married. We shared the desire to travel and experience what the world had to offer. Damon was a natural leader but more than that he was a comforter. He supported his friends and family and those he worked with. He was willing to stick his neck out to stand up for others. He worked hard knowing the sacrifices he made would be worth it and would pay off. He did not plan on staying in the military though. He knew that his family was more important but he was willing to serve in order to provide for the long run. Damon's ultimate goal was to become an elected Sheriff. He always strived to serve those around him. He couldn't be who he was without serving.
I share my story of the military's influence on my life because I know how it is to wonder what it could be like. My wonder is different though. How do people not feel the call to serve? How do people not respect the flag? How do people not understand or appreciate the service men and women and the sacrifices they make? How are American's afraid of the military? Why do American's want to pay the military less and less and take away their means of survival while increasing the minimum wage? Why are there homeless veteran's dying on the streets while the President invites refugees from other countries? Why are veteran's committing suicide and not receiving the mental and health care they need after serving and sacrificing so much? These are the questions I have because I truly don't understand.
Men and women that are willing to sacrifice their own lives, time with their families and friends, and so much more are honored and remembered on this day, November 11th. But I remember them everyday. And I ask you to do the same.
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