Archives for posts with tag: Veterans Day

It’s Veterans Day, today. It is a mild morning in the Pacific Northwest, before sunrise. I’m at the trailhead, in no hurry, waiting for a bit of daylight before I start down the trail. The bridges in town and even the entrance road to this park and the trail that wraps around one side of the air museum property are marked with American flags. It is one way of honoring Veterans of the armed forces on this holiday. Today, I’ll hear a lot of performative expressions of appreciation for my service, and possibly some small number of sincerely felt expressions of real gratitude.

Have you put any thought into what you are thanking Veterans for? Saying “thank you for your service” is not a telling indicator that someone actually understands the sacrifices and changes such service demands. Mostly, it seems to me, people – civilians who have not served their country, I mean – don’t “get it”, at all. They simultaneously seem to elevate military service, and also seem to think that hollow performative thanks are sufficient to meet their obligation to care for and provide for those Veterans their nation has created, used, damaged, and cast aside. “Thank you” isn’t enough. Fund the VA. Ensure Veterans have access to the lifetime of healthcare they may need – at no cost to them, at all. These Veterans already did their part; they served. Make sure they have jobs. Homes. Resources. Relief from poverty. An opportunity to heal their moral and emotional injuries. All of this requires more than a perfunctory “thank you” delivered in passing on a single date on the calendar. You can’t easily know what Veterans go through, or what it takes to “put Humpty Dumpty together again”, but you can care, and you can vote.

Daybreak. Veterans Day 2025.

I get to my feet as daybreak reveals a new day, and start down the trail, alone with my thoughts.

This year it seems likely that, for various reasons, I’ll be hanging out with just one Veteran today, my Traveling Partner. He’s Navy. I’m Army. The differences in our service are less important than the similarities. He never chides me over my mixed feelings about my military service. He understands more than most people can. We’ve each had our own experience of military service. Veterans are not a hive mind, and we don’t all feel proudly patriotic about our military experience. Some come home grievously wounded,  physically, morally, and/or emotionally. We don’t all look back fondly on our service or our former comrades-at-arms. Some of us drag that baggage through a lifetime of struggle after we leave the military, never really healing, never really finding our way, never moving on from the damage done. (That’s more common than people probably realize.)

… Some never make it home at all…

I sigh quietly, sitting at a favorite halfway point. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here in daylight, watching the sun rise… or was that yesterday? 😆 I turn around for a look back, toward the rising sun. Pretty sunrise this morning. I don’t see much of it from this spot, but I see a bit of it between the trees that line the paved portion of the trail. Isn’t that representative of the limitations of our perspective, more generally, too? We see only a small portion of everything there is to see in some moment, and our understanding is limited – because our information is limited. Accepting uncertainty, practicing non-attachment, testing our assumptions, fact-checking what we’re told, and being open to new information are important skills for reasoning well, and thinking critically.

A metaphor in a colorful sunrise, and a moment of gratitude in which to enjoy it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate as the sun rises. I contemplate my good fortune and take a moment for gratitude. It’s been a long and sometimes difficult journey. I’ve been through some things. I’ve seen some things. I’m here, now, though, and I have better tools for dealing with the chaos and damage – even the lingering baggage of my military service is easier to lug around these days. (If you need help, get help! There are resources, and you can heal. You’ll have to do the verbs, but you are not alone.)

The VA hasn’t reliably done well by me, and I’m not inclined to sugarcoat that, but I’m also very much aware that it doesn’t get the funding it requires (and deserves), making it difficult to live up to the explicit commitment to provide care to Veterans. The solution isn’t privatization, so much as accepting the reality that doing the needful comes at a cost. Social safety nets like the Veterans Administration, and Social Security, and SNAP, shouldn’t be about profit, ever. They are about decency,  care, and a common good that should ideally matter more than profits. (My opinion.)

The VA has also done more, better, often, for me (and many other Veterans)than many civilian medical professionals ever could. It’s been sort of hit or miss, over the years, and mostly due to constraints and systemic failures due to partisan bullshit and inadequate funding. Still, I’m grateful. I’m okay, now, for most values of “okay”, and the VA has played a part in my journey.

… I’m glad Veterans Day is in the autumn, that just “feels right” to me somehow..

I sit thinking of old friends, battle buddies, and the many uniquely military experiences that are shared among Veterans that wouldn’t likely be understood by civilian friends and colleagues. Some are quirky and amusing. Some are dark, to the point of shared trauma. Some seem almost nonsensical out of context, others seem unbelievable. Some make great anecdotes, others can’t be shared even in whispers, except among those who know, and know better than to discuss it freely. Sometimes I miss active duty service… mostly I don’t.

The colorful sunrise becomes an ordinary looking autumn morning. I’ve got a couple of errands to run. Sooner or later, someone well-meaning will thank me for my service. I’ll thank them for their appreciation, without making it “a thing”. Then I’ll begin again. Good enough.

…If you really do care about “supporting our troops” and caring for our Veterans, please also vote for representatives who will actually fund the VA, and social security, and SNAP, because I promise you – our Veterans and active duty service members use those services and need them.

So, real life being what it is, with winter storms, and unpredictable changes in travel plans, and all of that sort of thing… my Traveling Partner did not make it home last night. :-\ Am I disappointed? I sure am. That’ll pass quickly, not because I am callous or insensitive, or don’t love deeply enough, it is, instead, because I have learned, mostly, not to become attached to an outcome that isn’t certain. Generally. Most of the time. I still expect him home “soon” – most likely today, sometime while I am at work. 🙂 It mattered more to know he was safe, somewhere, than to fixate on his planned arrival time.

This perspective is so much easier than getting all hung up on the details that can vary so much.

I imagine it would be tougher to be so chill about it, if I were the one stuck in some random city, waiting for another flight… I find myself wishing my Traveling Partner safe – and merry – travels, and hoping it isn’t unbearably tedious, frustrating, or unpleasant. Travel can be a lot of fun, but it is predictably less so, when all one wants is to go home.

Very little in life is predictable, really. Our results vary. We walk our own hard mile. We are each having our own experience. Our lives are built on what we make of all the chaos and uncertainty. It is our choices to act, to react, to refrain from action, that define us to the world…

I sip my coffee, contented, and grateful. My Traveling Partner is on his way home. I’ll see him when I see him. In the meantime, I’ll do what I do, and let the waiting be part of the background, instead of having it dominate my thoughts. (There really isn’t much I can do to speed things up, so why get spun over the details?) Instead, I let my thinking move on to other things… and rather consistent with the travel theme, I find myself wondering if my efforts here at home are “good enough”. The surge in anxiety reminds me I have baggage to unpack, myself, without even leaving home. lol I breathe, exhale, relax, and remind myself that the anxiety over “good enough” is a leftover from long ago, in a very different relationship, and it’s okay to let that go. Boom! A bag hits the floor – this one, though, is one I’ll let go of, over and over again, for the rest of my life (most likely). It’s heavy, and sturdily made, and this bit of baggage just keeps following me (so far). Still, recognizing it right away, and letting it go, again, is healthy progress. I’m content with that. Enough forward progress and we inevitably end up somewhere else. 😉

I had a moment of great delight yesterday, related to Veterans Day. My team at work asked for a moment of my time, and I said “sure” and then followed up some short time later, pointing out “This may not be a good time, I’m sort of cross at the moment, but I’ve got a few minutes, what’s on your mind?” My team grinned at me, and one of them said “It’s the best time!”, and another of them handed me a small gold bag, and an envelope.

“We’d hoped to get it to you Friday, but you weren’t in the office, and then Monday was the holiday…”

I opened the card – a Veterans Day card. What the hell? I’m still surprised. lol It was very… moving. Inside the bag? Very fancy chocolates from a local high end chocolatier (I rarely shop there, way out of my price range). “We wanted to do more than just say thanks…” they said, almost in unison. We all laughed together, and I’m still so… moved, by their appreciation. More palpable than a random thank you, it isn’t about the chocolate, as much as the sentiment (I probably won’t have more than 1 of those elegant chocolates; everything about them is a “restricted” food on my diet, and not ideal for my health lol). It was – and is – a heart-warming visceral expression of appreciation. Special.

How would the world improve if we could make every “thank you” we offer everyone truly visceral and “real” to them? How about if every time we apologize for hurting someone, they could really feel our regret, and that they matter to us? If we could successfully communicate that we are committed to making amends? If when we did our best to do so, it was something the injured person could really feel? How much more valuable would “thank you” and “I’m sorry” be then? (Actually, about as important as now – so maybe we should be putting more effort into it, already? 😉 )

Thoughts over coffee on a Wednesday. Today, I’ll work on more effective, meaningful, expressions of appreciation or regret. Effective and meaningful to the recipient, I mean. I guess that implies also being more effective and meaningful to me… “heartfelt made real”, somehow. It seems like a useful starting point with which to begin again. 🙂