A dead soldier

My sister-in-law’s grandfather passed away today.

I feel a bit of grief for my sister-in-law, her family, and my nephews. I was not terribly close to him, so comments of condolence to me are not necessary. But two thoughts come to mind.

1. The man

Francis was a profoundly great human being. I believe we all have pasts that we extinguish with our nobler motives and actions. I am certain that he did things of which he was not proud, but I never saw them. He was cheerful in his old age… non-judgmental, kind, loving, and very happy to have retained his life to an age that enabled him to get to know his great-grandchildren.

He used to ask me about my job (when I had one). We would talk about marching band, and he would recite his memories of being 16 and in the local Boy Scout Drum and Bugle Corps. He probably told me the following story 10 times:

It was the late 30’s. Francis was playing the cornet in the drum and bugle corps. After careful rehearsal and training, the corps was marching in a local parade. Francis, whose mind did tend to wander from time to time, marched on the outside right of the parade block as instructed: Nose-to-spine; maintain interval with the person to your left; the interval must not expand at a corner; you, in fact, must take a curved path.

As the corps approached a corner, Francis was distracted from his music and maneuvering by a young lady. As he attempted to focus, he couldn’t manage to take his eyes off of the woman who stood along the parade route admiring his precision and decorum. As the corps rounded the corner, Francis’s attention would not snap back, and he soon realized that he was playing his part, marking time, right by the young lady…. as the rest of the corps had continued several dozen yards down the street. In a bit of panic, Francis said “Good day” to the woman, and proceeded tardily back to his position in the block.

He was a minister. In the summers, he lived in North Carolina. He assisted at a Methodist church while there. In the winters, he lived in Lakeland, Florida and worked at a Presbyterian church.

He was open, honest, and understood that one person’s conception of what God is might be different than another’s. He did what he believed was right, and was cheerful in doing so. God bless you, Francis. You will be remembered, at least as long as I have anything to say about it.

II. What he did

Francis, as many we are losing these days are, was a veteran of World War II. He didn’t speak about it much, but he was. I don’t know where he was, I don’t know what he did. I know that he served. I can’t tell you much more.

What I do know is that America is losing a generation of heroes. As we do with most superlative descriptors, our society is assigning the word "hero" to a lot of people. I assign nothing less than that term to those who fought on behalf of what was then an inferior America to insure our current freedom, about which we are often unforgivably flippant.

I am very, very proud to have been associated (and related to) ladies and gentlemen who decided that the fight to secure security was worth the potential loss of life. I am proud that my grandfather (Big Daddy) swam, then walked, then shot his way onto Normandy. I am proud of the captured tattered nazi flag that he stole off of that building in France, which to this day sits dormant in my closet, never to be feared again. I am very proud that these human beings believed in something bigger than themselves, and that they were willing to risk their own well being or lives for it.

On the other hand, I am worried about us right now. I am not sure that enough people like Francis (or Big Daddy) are around. I am concerned that the next “crisis” will soon give way to Tom Cruise’s infantile rants about what he “knows,” or our obsession with something even more profoundly unimportant. I’m afraid that we can’t focus our energy and attention on something relevant long enough to correct it. I’m afraid that our generation is bullshit. And I don’t have the first clue as to what I should do about it.

I do know that I owe a tremendous gratitude to the ladies and gentlemen who are calling it quits, after enjoying a fraction of the benefit of the liberty they preserved 60 years ago.

So, here’s to you Francis and Big Daddy (God, rest your souls). I know we don’t act like it, but we really are more appreciative than I can tell you of what you did for us.

I like that poetry... that old soldier dying peacefully after passing out at the dinner table on July 4, following a stroke he never even felt. I hope that's how I get it too, though I have done nothing to deserve it. But, boys, I hope we don’t have to prove that we love what we have the way that you did.

Cheers and Godspeed, gentlemen.

... oh, and thank you!