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Monday, November 29, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Salute to Veterans
In the house I grew up in, there was a coat closet near the back door. Inside that closet hung a worn-out, faded green coat. This coat was not like any other that hung in the closet such as my mother’s fancy, wear-to-church coat or my dad’s favorite brown and white plaid blazer with the black elbow patches. There were also sweaters and rain coats for each of my family in this closet, but this one shabby coat was quite different and quite special.
This coat had “Marable” embroidered above the right chest pocket. (Marable was my last name back then, my maiden name now.) As memory serves, that jacket also had “U.S. Army” on the left chest pocket. I remember as a kid being very fascinated by that coat, as if it had a special aura about it. I would sneak into the closet and put the coat on when no one was looking. The arms of the coat of course were much longer than my own, and the length of the jacket fell way beneath my knees. I would wrap myself up in the coat which still had a lingering musty smell mixed in with faint scents of my dad’s after shave lotion.
Like a magic cape, I felt as if putting on my dad’s army jacket would conjure up memories of the time he served in the military.
Over the years, I have tried to ask my dad many questions about the time he served our country in Vietnam. But like a safe that’s been locked up and the key thrown away, he always manages to avoid the details I’ve tried to finagle out of him. Of course now as an adult, knowing and reading about the atrocities of what happened on that foreign soil, it’s no wonder my dad refuses to relive that piece of history.
My dad, Jerry Marable, enlisted in the Army and was called to duty just a few short months after being married at age 21 (almost five years before I would be born.) He was in Vietnam during the peak of the war in 1968 and 1969 as part of the 43rd Medical Brigade.
It is reported that over 58,000 American soldiers were killed in action during the Vietnam conflict, of which more than 16,000 died in 1968 alone.
The question of why the United States participated in the Vietnam War is still hotly debated, nearly forty years after the conflict ended. It’s much like the ongoing debate as to the necessary presence of our military men and women still fighting today in Afghanistan and Iraq and other Middle Eastern countries.
The one thing I do know is that no matter whether or not you support our leaders’ decisions to go to war, you should definitely support the men and women who risk their lives in service to this country in those wars.
I can’t even begin to imagine how those servicemen from Vietnam felt after never-ending days and months of fighting, seeing their brothers-in-arms die all around them only to come home and be scorned by the people they were representing.
Since the days of Vietnam, there’s a whole new generation of men and women serving in our country’s military. I have two cousins, both sons of my mother’s brother, currently serving in the United States Marine Corps. I have seen these two young men grow up from their birth, and I have always loved them like an older sister. I am so incredibly proud of them and their decision to join our country’s armed forces. They are tough; they are smart and they are incredibly focused. Very different from the two little boys who wore little, white tuxedos in my wedding fifteen years ago. They stood at complete attention on the platform in between me and my maid of honor during the long ceremony never moving or speaking once. To be such wild, rambunctious boys, even then their inner soldier was shining through.
I sleep easy at night knowing there are many other men and women just like Matthew and Christopher serving all over the world to protect our country’s interests.
Those soldiers keep us safe, and for that, we owe them a great debt of respect and gratitude.
As a little girl wrapped up in my daddy’s army coat, I felt sheltered and secure. That coat is so much more than just the armor of a soldier; it is a symbol of the larger conglomerate of men and women who make up our country’s armed forces. That coat may be tattered and pierced. It may be washed out and ragged, but no matter the condition, that coat will always keep you warm.
November 11 is the day we set aside to revere and memorialize those individuals who have served or continue to serve in our country’s military. On this day, let’s honor our soldiers for whom without we would not live in the freedom that we do today.
I challenge you to remember that this nation will only remain the land of the free, as long as we remain the home of the brave.
(Published in the Columbian-Progress 11/11/10)
This coat had “Marable” embroidered above the right chest pocket. (Marable was my last name back then, my maiden name now.) As memory serves, that jacket also had “U.S. Army” on the left chest pocket. I remember as a kid being very fascinated by that coat, as if it had a special aura about it. I would sneak into the closet and put the coat on when no one was looking. The arms of the coat of course were much longer than my own, and the length of the jacket fell way beneath my knees. I would wrap myself up in the coat which still had a lingering musty smell mixed in with faint scents of my dad’s after shave lotion.
Like a magic cape, I felt as if putting on my dad’s army jacket would conjure up memories of the time he served in the military.
Over the years, I have tried to ask my dad many questions about the time he served our country in Vietnam. But like a safe that’s been locked up and the key thrown away, he always manages to avoid the details I’ve tried to finagle out of him. Of course now as an adult, knowing and reading about the atrocities of what happened on that foreign soil, it’s no wonder my dad refuses to relive that piece of history.
My dad, Jerry Marable, enlisted in the Army and was called to duty just a few short months after being married at age 21 (almost five years before I would be born.) He was in Vietnam during the peak of the war in 1968 and 1969 as part of the 43rd Medical Brigade.
It is reported that over 58,000 American soldiers were killed in action during the Vietnam conflict, of which more than 16,000 died in 1968 alone.
The question of why the United States participated in the Vietnam War is still hotly debated, nearly forty years after the conflict ended. It’s much like the ongoing debate as to the necessary presence of our military men and women still fighting today in Afghanistan and Iraq and other Middle Eastern countries.
The one thing I do know is that no matter whether or not you support our leaders’ decisions to go to war, you should definitely support the men and women who risk their lives in service to this country in those wars.
I can’t even begin to imagine how those servicemen from Vietnam felt after never-ending days and months of fighting, seeing their brothers-in-arms die all around them only to come home and be scorned by the people they were representing.
Since the days of Vietnam, there’s a whole new generation of men and women serving in our country’s military. I have two cousins, both sons of my mother’s brother, currently serving in the United States Marine Corps. I have seen these two young men grow up from their birth, and I have always loved them like an older sister. I am so incredibly proud of them and their decision to join our country’s armed forces. They are tough; they are smart and they are incredibly focused. Very different from the two little boys who wore little, white tuxedos in my wedding fifteen years ago. They stood at complete attention on the platform in between me and my maid of honor during the long ceremony never moving or speaking once. To be such wild, rambunctious boys, even then their inner soldier was shining through.
I sleep easy at night knowing there are many other men and women just like Matthew and Christopher serving all over the world to protect our country’s interests.
Those soldiers keep us safe, and for that, we owe them a great debt of respect and gratitude.
As a little girl wrapped up in my daddy’s army coat, I felt sheltered and secure. That coat is so much more than just the armor of a soldier; it is a symbol of the larger conglomerate of men and women who make up our country’s armed forces. That coat may be tattered and pierced. It may be washed out and ragged, but no matter the condition, that coat will always keep you warm.
November 11 is the day we set aside to revere and memorialize those individuals who have served or continue to serve in our country’s military. On this day, let’s honor our soldiers for whom without we would not live in the freedom that we do today.
I challenge you to remember that this nation will only remain the land of the free, as long as we remain the home of the brave.
(Published in the Columbian-Progress 11/11/10)
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