As Remembrance Day approaches this Friday, I have probably purchased
three or four poppies in the past week. I have yet to properly fasten one of
those things to any garment I own, and usually manage to skewer myself at least
once or twice. Perhaps a little prick of pain is a fitting way to remember the men and women who have sacrificed so much for our collective freedom. While I
worry about the state of the world today, and am as disheartened as the next
American about the up and coming Presidential election tomorrow, I am still
hopeful and comforted by the (possibly deluded) notion that we North Americans
enjoy freedoms that most of the rest of the world cannot imagine. I am thankful
to every generation of veterans for their service, and I express my gratitude
locally by making several donations to the local Burk’s Falls Legion over the
year.
When I was a sullen teen, my parents employed a cleaning lady named Mel,
and her son Richard used to pick her up after work. Richard was a Viet Nam vet,
and though he was a little shy, we developed an odd friendship which originated
around cars. Richard owned a “sleeper”, which in drag racing circles means a
car which does not look as fast as it is. Richard’s car was a hopped up Cougar
XR7 with a supercharged V8. That motor developed well over 500 HP and was
geared for drag racing. The car was intentionally painted to look as if it was
done by a child - orange with black leopard spots - and it definitely did not
look like something that would hit 0-60 in under 4 seconds. I took several
rides in this thing and it was probably the fastest car I’ve ever been in. The acceleration
off the line could snap your neck. He used to take it down to Fuhrman Blvd. and
race other hot rodders for pink slips. Fuhrmann Boulevard was at the time
Buffalo’s unofficial drag strip, because it featured numerous exits for
escaping the cops. Richard told me that he and “The Leopard” had won a few cars
down there. We had an unusual relationship, not just because I was a spoiled
young teenager, and his family was several rungs below mine on the social
ladder, but also because I was a naïve kid, and he was a war vet. I met a few
of Richard’s friends, many of them also veterans, and they looked as if they'd been through a war. While Richard and I never
talked much about his experiences in Viet Nam, I know he’d seen combat, and
that he was affected psychologically by what he’d done and seen. It was
obvious. The Viet Nam War was troublesome on so many levels, because the mission was
ambiguous and it came to represent one of the worst and most devastating
failures of U.S foreign policy. As happened to so many vets from every
generation of war, many of the Viet Nam vets came home with PTS, and to a
population that did not understand or appreciate their sacrifice. I don’t know what
happened to Richard, or if he is still on this earth, but he was my personal reminder of the ravages of war. I have never been a history buff, but I do know that war
is hell. I try never to forget this or to take my freedom for granted. Not
every vet was a decorated hero, not all of them sacrificed their lives, but in
my opinion, they are all worthy of my respect.
I feel the same about Remembrance Day as I do about Thanksgiving or
Christmas: it shouldn't just be for one day that we honor our vets, any more than it should be for only one day that we are thankful or charitable or kind. Maybe it’s
because we have so much more “information” than we used to, but it seems to me as if
the world is becoming an ever more dangerous place than it used to be. I’m not as worried about some fringe group of
religious extremists in the Middle East as I am of the misdirection of a super
power. We should never forget the lessons of the past, and we should never forget
the sacrifices we depend upon from our soldiers, both at home and abroad. I’ll
try to remember them the next time my internet service is slow, or the chainsaw
won’t start, or someone cuts me off on the highway. Little problems. I think
the best way can honor our veterans is to do a better job of appreciating and
respecting the freedoms for which they fought.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer
c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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