Veterans Day, 2024

I am a Navy Veteran, though there are few times that this deserves mentioning and only a few stories that come up from my time at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda. 

When I think of Veterans of my era, it is more in line to think of my brother Dave and my cousin Jim, who actually went to Viet Nam. 

But when I think of *Veterans,* I think of Mom and Dad. 

Mom, a WAC (E-5) who served in London and Paris. Dad, a weatherman (Capt) in the Army Air Corps, who served all across sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East. And then add into that image, my uncles of that WW II generation: Uncle Harry (who flew planes for the US Army, though I am not sure he was in the Army), Uncle Ben, Uncle Paul, Uncle Jim – Army and Navy, Europe and the Pacific. 

Growing up in the 1950s, when my parents had friends come over, there were almost always Veterans among them. Not many stories, but it got mentioned. WW II was all over the TV: “Victory at Sea,” “Combat” (with Vic Morrow). 

But I think the underlying benefit of being the child of two Veterans was the simple, active patriotism of the house. My mother was once unhappy at seeing a flag – even a crayon-colored paper flag – lying on the floor. The 4th of July, Memorial Day, and Veterans Day (my father still called it Armistice Day) were a part of my childhood. My mother and I went downtown for President Kennedy’s funeral procession. I loved the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, the White House and Capitol buildings downtown. My cousin Jim and I took a bus downtown to see the Senate in session, sit in the back of a congressional hearing, and wander around the House of Representatives Office Building basement. (Yeah, times were different then.) I grew up with a quiet, steady love of this country.

And this patriotism was there, even though my father and mother did not always agree politically. [“I’ve just cancelled your vote” was said on more than one Election Day.] It was there, even when my father and I could disagree about the Viet Nam war. He finally did allow an anti-war statement to stand, as long as he was satisfied that I wasn’t opposing the country or impugning the motives of everyone who supported the war. 

Dad worked for the National Bureau of Standards. Though he could joke about “government work,” for him government work was work that was to be done well. There was a controversy at the Bureau of Standards, starting under the Truman administration and coming to a head under the Eisenhower administration, where political pressure was put on the government scientists to change their conclusions to help a business with political connections. It was resolved, the scientists held firm, the Director of the Bureau (who had been fired) was re-instated, and my father’s resentment at political pressure was life-long. 

Dad considered that public service was service to the people, to the nation, and not to the changing political administrations (almost equally divided in his time between “R” and “D”). In the same way he respected my brother David’s work as a policeman. The work needs to be done and it needs to be done well. I’m proud to say that I have heard both my father and my brother used as examples of how service to the nation, to the state, to the people, ought to be done. (I include Mom in that list as well.)

And I should add that my parents’ love and respect for the nation went to all the people. They didn’t have any place in their patriotism for white supremacy or a supposed white nationalism, which they considered “a steaming pile of horse’sh” (my father’s phrasing). My father’s Pennsylvania roots went back to the 1680s. My mother’s parents were both born in Austria-Hungary. They considered that old-timers, newcomers, and the people still coming in were how you define “American.” Immigrants were not “them”; they were us. I sang “Give me your tired, your poor” with the Wheaton High School Chorus, and it was a song that could bring my mother to tears. 

I have been a part of this country now through 36 years under Democratic Presidents and 40 years under Republican. I have seen party control of the White House change ten times now. Although I have concerns about the future of our country – our Democracy, our Constitution, our Laws – it is still my country. “America The Beautiful” still sings “God shed his grace on thee” and still sings “God mend thine every flaw.” Like every nation, America is a nation under God, who is the Lord of the nations. Like every nation, it is – we are – a nation with work to do to live up to our words and our ideals. 

And so, on Veterans Day, I remember  

• Mom and Dad,
• the uncles, 
• Dave and Jim, 
• Jared and Trisch, 
• G’pa Weninger (WW I), 
• G’g’g’pa Cameron (Civil War), 
• G’g’g’g’g’pa Rush (Revolutionary War) . . . (Jacob Rush, Penn Militia, Somerset Co — not to forget the *very* distant cousin Benjamin Rush who signed the Declaration). 

I remember a country that people are still working at, constituted to becoming more perfectly united, with justice and defense for all, hopefully with more tranquility, working for the well-being of everyone and securing the blessings of liberty not only for us, but for the generations to come. 

It’s worth the work. And it’s our job to make it worth the sacrifice of those who have gone before us. 

Happy Veterans Day.