The parade lined up at the corner near our family restaurant where my dad and uncles found their place within our small town, which would not hire them but ate their food and drank at their bar. This was our sanctuary and our window onto the world. These veterans of WWII fought to defend the country they knew did not fully accept them, like other immigrants and the formerly enslaved. Not much has changed. The spouses and children of veterans are being detained in concentration camps and deported because of their ethnicity and skin color. Military personnel are being ordered to commit criminal acts. Military personnel are being demoted or removed because of their sex and skin color. Things are actually worse in some ways. What would a parade of veterans marching on this Veterans’ Day look like?
I do not know because those parades seem to have faded away, like our respect for veterans.
On parade day we waited inside the restaurant until Dad brought us outside to watch the start of the parade. Dad lifted me onto his shoulders so I could see over the crowd. I recall the interesting sight of a lone soldier walking ahead of the other groups of soldiers. He was in a dark blue wool uniform, unlike the uniform my dad and uncles had worn, unlike the uniforms of the WWI marchers. He looked so alone. Where were his comrades?
I knew soldiers relied upon their comrades-in-arms. Dad’s veteran buddies gathered around our kitchen table regularly to remember and share their war stories, cleaned up a bit for the toddler sitting at her dad’s feet listening to every word. They helped one another heal from the wounds of war. Why did this lone soldier walk alone?
This slight, elderly man who stood ramrod straight and marched in step was the last survivor of the US Civil War. He must have been a mere child when he enlisted. In the crowd men saluted and women placed their hands over their hearts to honor him and the groups of marching soldiers, airmen, and sailors who followed him. The bands and floats followed. The Sheriff deputies on horseback followed. The Clydesdales pulled the Budweiser beer wagon. More bands followed. The politicians finally caught up. Finally the fire truck brought up the rear. The parade ended. My education into politics and war, racism and sexism ( where were the women soldiers, police, firemen and politicians? Where were the Black people who served in the wars?) began watching the parades. The parades are gone. The questions linger.
I would love to return to the days of parades. I would love the full support of our military during service, and for our returning veterans. I had hoped we had moved beyond the racism and sexism of the past. I believe most of us have. I believe we are experiencing the backlash to our success.
Today, I thank every member of our military and their families for their service to others, for their ability to view our world through a bigger lens, for their commitment to bringing peace to our world. Soon, I hope, we can shove aside the corrupt War Department and return to a professional Defense Department which puts the lives and well-being of our military and our citizens before the greed of the power-mongers attempting to destroy our democratic republic. These war-mongers believe if they control politics, if they control us, they can control their seizure of this nation’s wealth. They are destroying our military to protect their wealth.
Today, I intend to focus on those who serve the nation at risk to themselves. I intend to focus on families of our servicepersons who live with the stress of watching their loved one commit to the task. Thank you. Bless you.
