It is the day before Memorial Day. A long weekend for most. My husband made a remark this morning about how he imagined a lot of people just thought of it as a day off or the start of summer, and forgot that this was to honor and remember all the soldiers that had given their lives so that we have the extra day off. He is probably right.
My dad was a veteran. He didn't see combat, but was in the Army and National Guard for several years. He almost had enough time to get retirement, and regretted that he didn't go ahead and finish his time out. I don't remember a lot about his time in the military because I was very young when he was active. The most vivid memories I have are when I was about 3, and he had been mobilized and sent to Fort Lee, VA. We moved up there on the base for a while. I honestly don't know how long it was, but I remember I was miserable, and I missed my grandfather. I cried so much, that I literally made myself sick. My mom said they took me to the doctor and he told them (in not so many words) I was a spoiled brat and I would get over it. I don't remember going to the doctor, or where we lived at the time. I do remember packing up my red and white stick horse when we started on the road, and clutching the small 2x3 picture frame that held a photo of my grandfather. I am not sure, but I think my grandfather might have given me the stick horse as a going away present, or to keep my occupied while they left. I'm not sure which it was, but I loved that thing so much and played with it until it fell apart.
I have memories of a battlefield and the pile of cannon balls and the cannons beside them. The thing that really piqued my interest was 'that little train that ran down in that ditch'. I am not sure if that was in the same park or another one, but it definitely made an impression on a 3 year old. I also remember the kitchen at the mess hall. It was all shiny and the counter tops were really cold when daddy sat me up on one. He was a Master Sergeant and head cook there at the time. And there were bananas on a "tree"! And they used them to make a really good banana split. The ice cream was weird too. It came in these little blocks. But that was okay because daddy and his co-workers in the kitchen would feed me banana splits - as much as I wanted- while I watched them go about their duties. I imagine that my mom was none too happy about it either, but I can't remember whether she was there or not. Years later, when mom and dad took us to the local Dairy Queen in town, they ordered us a banana split and I realized I really didn't care for them. Obviously, I got a little burned out on them back then.
I know one thing, this girl was so happy when we made it back home! I could follow my granddaddy around and sit and listen to all his tall tales, and help him feed the animals, and ride to the field to pick watermelons. Nothing better than pulling a watermelon fresh off the vine, then breaking it open on a rock. The sweet heart of the melon would fall out and we would devour it like it was our last meal. Oh, it was so good! I can remember going home with a sticky face and hands so many times.
My dad never had to go overseas and I am thankful. After that, I think he served another few years in the National Guard, then settled in working at a local grocery store.He never regretted his service to our country. And I was so proud of him.
All I can say today is, that I appreciate all those that fought and died so that I was able to have such wonderful memories. I appreciate those that came home, and those that were support and may not have seen combat. We owe a debt of gratitude to the people that choose to serve this country. If not for them, there might be very few of us that had wonderful childhood memories. God bless the soldiers, and God bless the USA!
