Memorial musings

Memorial Day is humbling, to say the least.

First, a full admission - I have never served in the military, nor had a family member killed or wounded in combat. It's this "distance" from the realities of war that, for many people, might make Memorial Day just another extended weekend.

It's hard to believe that anyone can be so blissfully ignorant, with our service men and women fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan (and serving in peacetime outposts in far-flung places such as South Korea and the Balkans). Yet, in a day and age when an amazing number of people can recite every "American Idol" development but are dumbfounded when asked to name their Congressman, perhaps it's not so surprising.

This blindedness to the importance of Memorial Day is probably due to current events. Let's face it - Iraq has largely fallen off the daily news headlines, a positive development due to the great drop in American casualties. Afghanistan is a powder keg intertwined with developments in Pakistan, a conflict that could blow up any moment and holds the very real risk of nuclear weapons falling into terrorists' hands. Yet it hasn't received the attention it really deserves and, if it did, who knows if most Americans would really notice? After all, it's been 8-1/2 years since 9/11. A false sense of security has probably been lulled into folks.

Back to Memorial Day. It's extremely humbling to consider the number of Americans who fought, suffered and often died horrific deaths so that we could, for example, freely write blogs. Can you imagine the cold, hard fear in the guts of soldiers riding landing craft onto the beaches at Normandy? Or charging across open fields toward fortified enemies in the Civil War? Or facing off against the better-armed and better-trained British in the Revolutionary War?

Maybe we can imagine, but can't relate, because we've never been there. That's easy enough to understand. But here's what brings it home for me.

Our neighbor's son is in Iraq. It's his second tour there. He's the nicest guy, always smiling and glad to see you. He's a full-time National Guardsman. He joined the service after 9/11 to make a difference.

And he has. I think of him every day over there. It's given me a much more personal, emotional tie to military personnel and their often hazardous jobs.

The emotional carnage that his family would undergo, should something happen to him, is indescribable. Even now, when I ask his father how he's doing, I catch the hitch in his speech and distant look in his eyes. Every day must be a 24-hour stress fest, fearing a phone call that no parent ever wants to get.

I'll never forget one experience of a soldier returning home. The son-in-law of some friends from church served in Iraq shortly after the 2003 invasion. He's also a good guy, someone I've played alongside with in softball and volleyball.

We were at a church event, and I looked across at the next table, and - could it be? - there he was. He was home from Iraq on leave. It was like seeing a ghost, only from the sense of disbelief. Nancy and I were filled with joy and rushed over to greet him. It was indescribable, the mix of happiness and relief to see that he was actually back, and unharmed, and seemingly the same as before.

It was the same feeling when our neighbor's son came back from his first tour in Iraq. He was as happy and smiling as ever, even though he acknowledged that, yes, he likely would be sent back for another tour. But for the moment, all was well. I could have talked to him for hours.

I'm sure there are millions of others across our land who feel the same way about someone they know. We all want that opportunity, just to see that person(s) alive and well again. It might not seem like much to ask. But it is. And on Memorial Day, that sense of need - and humility - is reinforced like never before.