Some thoughts on Veterans and those who need help after the parade has ended....
When I was a kid, men my age were veterans of World War Two. They became, later in life, known as "The Greatest Generation." They were also the generation of Archie Bunker. They fought the last war of morality, and they could not understand how young adults, when I was a child, could refuse to run off to fight when Uncle Sam came calling.
At one point, we had half a million - that's 500,000 - soldiers fighting in Vietnam. Most of that half a million went because they were drafted, and had no choice.
But those who went, either because they believed, or because they couldn't figure out how to dodge the draft, came home to jeers from those who, for them, it was an "unjust war," a war which - it has been established and admitted to - was fought based on provocations that were completely fabricated, in a place that they could not find on a map, for reasons that had nothing to do with them.
"The Greatest Generation" could not fathom this.
And those who fought against US involvement the war could not understand why anyone would go willingly, or at all. And those who went had a hard time with those who wouldn't.
Phil Ochs wrote many of the best known anti-war and anti-Vietnam war songs, but one of his lesser known lyrics, from The Flower Lady, captures this best:
Soldiers disillusioned come home from the war.
Sarcastic students tell them not to fight no more.
And they argue through the night,
black is black and white is white,
Walk away both knowing they are right....
And it
was black or white.
I remember going to an anti-war rally, where some were chanting:
Vietnam is gonna win!
Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh!
This troubled me. In fact, it shocked me. As a 10 year-old, I did not want my country to lose. I just wanted us to get out of a war we had no business fighting. But sides had to be chosen. "If you are not part of the solution," the slogan went, "you are part of the problem." And so, in my solution, you became part of my problem, and I became part of your problem.
And while soldiers were part of one's solution, they were very much part of another's problem. There was no hero's welcome for them. They came home confused, frustrated, and confronted by those who called them pawns, and baby killers, and worse, if such a thing is possible.
But now we know better.
There is no draft, so, at least in theory, the only people who go are those who want to go - in theory.
And we make a point of thanking our veterans.
Yet there are almost 50,000 homeless veterans.
The suicide rate among veterans is a horrifying 22 a day.
And the suicide rate among young veterans has tripled.
But at least we thank them now.
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I thank them for their service.
I thank them for their bravery, even when they were scared out of their minds.
I also, selfishly, thank them for going so I don't have to. I thank them for making those split second, life-and-death decisions, some of which were horribly wrong, in the moment, and which will haunt them for the rest of their lives, for making the decisions and taking actions that often result in PTSD - they did so and I did not have to. For this I am, profoundly, and selfishly, grateful.
I thank them for service to our country, and for fighting for our freedom, which is both cliche and true.
I also thank them for putting their lives on the line in wars that were futile, and ill-advised, even for fighting in the wars that were just plain wrong. It doesn't matter. What I'm saying here is that I am not just thanking those who fight in the wars that I liked, or approved, or supported, or didn't protest against. If they put their lives on the line, wearing our uniform, I thank them, even if I curse out the decision-makers who put them in harm's way.
We have learned something from the travails of my youth.
It might be nice, though, to think of our veterans on more than just one day a year, so I'm starting, now, so this can be read the day after.