On a beautiful April morning in San Antonio, the US Army held its monthly retirement ceremony at historic Fort Sam Houston. My sister in law was retiring after 30 years of service. I prefer to skip these things. I had my Air Force retirement papers mailed to me—but this was different. My sister in law had paid her dues, in Kabul, Kosovo, Eastern Europe, Guatemala—and other garden spots.
The Army is good at outdoor retirement ceremonies. The Army Band played,the general handed out the medals and documents, Each family was called up front as well, and introduced. The spouse also got their own “retirement” certificate, while the narrator thanked them for putting up with the Army life.
There were 17 retirees, and most did have family members to come forward with them when the retiree's name was called. One in particular stood out, and made me feel especially good. An African American female senior sergeant was the retiree, and the narrator called her and her immediate family forward. The sergeant was introduced, as was her wife, and son. The general awarded the retiree a medal she had earned, gave her the retirement certificate, gave the spouse her framed certificate of appreciation, and posed for photos with the family.
It was seamless.
The audience clapped for them, 'same as they clapped for each of the other 16 retirees and families. It was no big deal, in 2017.
My service ended over 20 years ago, when gays were certainly in the military, but couldn't be themselves,couldn't acknowledge mates, couldn't act like they loved one another.
And now, it was no big deal. It was good to be there.