It's quiet here this weekend. #1 is on his first long FTX - field training exercise. The collies have waited by the door since last night. #2 is wandering around doing extra schoolwork, and #1's cat is laying on his bed. Ok, #4 was trying to divide up his brother's belongings, but that's a different story.
This is a trial run for the real thing, I realize. Not just a trial for when he goes to Officer School, but if and when he deploys for long periods. It is finally sinking in that being in the military most likely means he won't be living at home any more. Excuse me while I open a new box of Kleenex.
Ok, back. Something happened yesterday which puts this into a very different perspective. I was going to drop him off at the field where the helicopter would show up to take him away for the weekend. I was being really good - this is for a weekend, and really shouldn't be a big deal. Anyway, I wasn't being weepy or anything. Because, there's no need, because it's just a weekend...more Kleenex...
Back again. So, yesterday when I asked him to pick a restuarant, he chose Olive Garden, because he wanted lots of salad. He told me that for some reason, they don't include salad in the MRE's. Since he wouldn't let me send a big batch of cookies or a nice pot of chicken soup along with for the weekend, I reminded myself that I couldn't fix this, either, and parked at the restaurant. He left his kevlar helmet in the car and adjusted his field cap carefully, brushed the wrinkles out of his uniform, and got out of the car.
We were heading toward the door when someone shouted accross the parking lot. We both turned to see three men waving and shouting. These three men were elderly, probably in their 80's. Two walked with canes, so their progress was slow, but they kept waving and shouting, so we waited. I glanced over at my car but my lights weren't on, so I couldn't imagine what they wanted.
When they got up to the sidewalk where we waited, they walked up to #1 and began smiling, patting him on the back, and saying,"God bless you, young man! Thank you for doing the right thing." and then, standing in a line they saluted him. One had to be helped by his friend since he had to let go of his cane to salute, and two of them had tears running down their cheeks. #1 tried to tell them that he was still only in ROTC, but they wouldn't have any of it. They told #1 that they had fought in WWII and that it made them proud to see fine young men also willing to serve their country. They kept thanking him for giving his time to our country, and all of them had to shake his hand. Even the wobbly one - #1 had to hold his arm while shaking hands with his other arm to keep him from falling. When one of the men turned to me and thanked me for raising such a fine young man, I finally stopped even pretending to hold in the tears, and I cried.
Before this happened, I thought of the men who served in that war as heroes on a completely different level than other veterans. Seeing them honour my son made me realize that just as in any other war, those who served may have wanted to be there, many did not, but they all did what they were asked. I finally understood that this weekend was not a bunch of young kids with sticks going to run through the woods, but serious young men and women training to be the next generation filling the shoes of those previous veterans, and it finally occurred to me that these young soldiers will be able to do just that. Those who are over there serving their country in the best way they know how, who are willing to give up cats and collies, brothers and parents, and even chicken soup and salad all deserve the same degree of respect as the veterans who came before, and I am in awe of them.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with an economy-size box of Kleenex, and a chicken. I need to make a big pot of soup to feed my hero when he gets back home this Sunday.
Last edited by hadassahchana; 04-01-2007 at 10:53 AM.
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When Poe ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
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