FOR VETERANS DAY 2021 -- PERHAPS THE NEED TO UNDERSTAND...

EDITION OF VETERAN’S DAY, 2021 — Thanks to the people who have served the United States so honorably in the armed forces. Without you, mokes like me would have never had careers writing in a free press.
That kid on the left is my father, J.C. “Calvin” Powell, in his early Army photo — drafted in the early ‘40s.
The gentleman on the right is a fellow I met one time, Martha’s beloved daddy, Johnny “Red” Muse, his countenance caught by a sketch artist in France in 1945.

The day I met Mr. Muse, he walked out of his home  and was carrying an infant granddaughter and had a toddler granddaughter holding onto his right pants leg and a first-or-second-grade grandson hanging onto the left side.
Johnny Muse was wearing a big ol’ grandpaw grin — yes, he transitioned from military service into husband and daddy and grandpa with ease. After a war, destiny gave him a much happier road to travel.

Fate had these two “boys” touring Europe at the same time — Mr. Muse and Pop Powell (they never met each other) had gotten the group rate on their U.S. Army walking tour of Europe. Other people got the same rate in the Pacific and Africa and wherever there was some despicable human of demented character trying to claim the world on behalf of evil.

It wasn’t “The War to End All Wars” as World War I was labeled, or Korea or Vietnam or the 911-inspired desert fighting. But, in post-war terms, World War II was “The Big One.” 

Mr. Muse was a medic with Gen. George Patton’s army. That was a busy position under that general’s theory of war. God only knows what Mr. Muse saw in that up-close-and-personal view to the bloody, tragic, unimaginable aspect of war. Martha says he never talked about the war or the memories.

My Pop was an infantry soldier from Normandy across countries he’d only heard about. Like Mr. Muse, he wasn’t on a tour bus — he was shooting bullets, dodging bullets and being a fellow who helped set free a Nazi concentration camp.
He spoke to me only twice and briefly about his wartime experiences — the horror was still in his voice.

I suspect that we are not the ony offspring of veterans whose daddy or mommy couldn’t talk or chose not to tell their kids about the ugliness of humans going to war with each other.
On this Veteran’s Day, I think it is important for children of veterans to understand their parent or parents who went to a war or who served in an “on alert” time in history. Understanding is important — you are understanding hearts not just one moment in one day.
In some cases, it would help you understand why your dad can’t sleep, or smokes like a fiend, as we used to say. 
Or why quiet moments are treasured and church and prayers mean more than we know.

Or why, when a flag passes by, or is spotlighted at a ball game, there is a whole different line of memories marching through the heart of a veteran. 

Or why there is irony in that people who refuse to salute the flag have the right to do so because of people who put their lives and futures at peril to protect the rights of strangers who happen to be their fellow Americans.

We really need to appreciate not only the joys of our lives, but the joys of the veterans’ lives, too. Imagine the pressure of protecting the greatest nation on earth. Thanks to all of you who stood up and stand up for the rest of us.

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