I've Got Soul But I'm Not a Soldier

Who am I to complain when I am able to see my family everyday while so many others wait months and even years to see their own families?  Who am I to complain when there is a parent, a child, a spouse who has buried their loved one today  for the sake of our country.....for me......for all Americans?  Today I reflect upon my dad, my uncles, my family and friends who fought in various wars solely to protect my rights as an American.  Without a doubt, I consider myself patriotic, but what does that mean?  What exactly does that mean for you?  Are we all grateful for the many sacrifices, the blood that has been shed for our right to speak and write as we want, worship wherever we wish, live how we choose to live and be free?   Are we grateful?  I am.....and I thank all the young Americans who have walked this journey especially those who have paid the ultimate price with their lives.  Each having their own story as to why they chose to be a soldier.  A soldier is a special breed, and today all of us should take pause to honor those who have walked the walk and not just talked it.

As a child, I remember hearing stories from a distance of the heartaches of war.  During dinner, when we complained about our food, it was a familiar response from my dad that made me cringe.  Now understand that my dad took the shock you type of parenting stradegy.  He didn't waste time in mincing words.  There was no filter in the Meyer household.  He didn't mind telling us that people were starved and tortured to death in China. We should be grateful to have a table with food while people in other countries were eating each other to survive.  How about that for dinner conversation?  As a little girl, it did hit a chord with me, and of course I ate everything on my plate.  Thus began my lifetime wave of food issues!  More than that, I also got a sense from my dad that there was ugliness in war, but it was necessary to keep our place as Americans.  It was a privilege to live here in our country, and it was our duty to uphold those rights.  If we weren't the soldiers, we must honor those who were.

We never asked our dad or uncles about those war time stories.  There was an unspoken understanding that it was too painful to mention.  We think we want to know those stories but do we?  There were probably too many unspeakable moments that no one of that era wanted to relive.  I do recall vivid memories of my Uncle Bill who served during Vietnam, his letters home and the recordings made during Aunt Marie's Christmas gatherings.  It cracked me up watching Aunt Josephine attempting to talk with Uncle Bill into the microphone after she had one too many, awaiting a response from Uncle Bill.  "Bill?  Billlll?? Billly????  Hello Bill?"   Everyone else was too busy laughing that no one else was able to grab the microphone quick enough.   I was there, though, I saw it.  She took that old-fashioned reel to reel  microphone and awaited his response.  I think in her mind it was probably high-tech in those days.  Perhaps she thought it was a telephone.  Maybe it was a combination of the liquor and all the excitement of the holiday gathering.  Either way, I suppose it brought some laughter to a very awkward time in our history.

I remember the day Uncle Bill showed up unexpectedly to our home.  My Aunt Nancy happened to be at our house, and while she was downstairs doing laundry my mom answered the front door with Uncle Bill standing before her.  I remember tears, and as a little girl, I didn't quite understand.  I was about four or five years old at the time.  He then went to greet my Aunt Nancy as she walked up the stairs with a laundry basket in her hands.  He walked down one side and she walked up the other, not noticing immediately who was beside her.  Uncle Bill said, "Hi Mickey." (her nickname)  Aunt Nancy then replied, "Oh hi Bill."  A second or two passed and then she suddenly stopped, "Bill!"   Again the tears, but I did not understand.  Why was everyone crying???

I am filled with so many wonderful memories.  This soul of mine has been growing within since I've been born, but I am by no means a soldier.  This soul grows from all the joys, the laughter and the sorrows.  All of my experiences in life have shaped this soul within that has been traveling, learning, understanding and growing still.   Some say my soul, my being is God given and I am to figure out what its purpose is.  Without a doubt, I believe that I am a being with many dimensions, many talents, but I do not claim to be a soldier.  That my friends I leave to the brave ones..........our true beloved soldiers of this great United States.   Those who are here as well as those who have gone before us that fought for our freedoms, they are the true soldiers.  At some point in their lives, they were chosen.  Whether they enlisted by force, by choice or by circumstance........they were there for me and generations before me. 

On this day, I honor and respect our soldiers by saying "The Pledge of Allegiance," and placing my hand over my heart, respectfully listening to the National Anthem, and saying "thank you" to any soldier I happen to meet.    Those are easy ways to say "thank you" back without too much effort.  Ultimately the right to vote is another one of those rights given to us by our fore fathers, blood shed through the Revolutionary War.  You may have your own personal political views, but the bottom line is this:  you walk these streets in freedom because of blood shed by our veterans.  You watch your televisions, use your cell phones, attend your choice of schools and live where you choose to live.  It's not at all a perfect country, but it is ours.  Look around.....look around to other countries.  Ask yourselves this:  "Where would I be without them, our veterans?"    My friends, please pay homage to these great people in whatever way possible.  The life we have been given here is what it is because of them.  Although I've got soul, I am not a soldier, but I will honor those who are.  To all of our soldiers, past and present:  THANK YOU! 

"God Bless America!"