It used to be that, for me, national veteran remembrance days were simply markers in the calendar where either the end of the fall semester or trimester (my high school operated on the latter) was around the corner, or the banks and post office were closed. This was probably due to my dislike of people parading around with the country's flag being melodramatic and claiming how oh-so-patriotic they were. This was an attitude I held at 8 years of age, and one that I shared with my Protest-Era parents.
I still dislike that sort of behavior. It has the vibe of the proverbial Pharisee praying out loud in the town square. But having learned the history of war at the feet of my peace-loving mom and dad, especially the conflicts that existed when they were in college (or grad school, in my dad's case--he took a educational deferment as he was classified physically unfit for duty, even as a chaplain.), and watching as our current president has overextended our country's forces in the so-called name of "war on terror," I have come to realize just how meaningful Veterans' Day has become for my peaceful-warrioress soul.
I read TIME magazine and see current articles and pictures where soldiers are sitting in worry and grief for fallen-but-still-living comrades in the hospital. I see pictures of older veterans in wheelchairs and think of how quickly our government sends our men and women off to war, but not be so quick to provide quality mental and physical care. I see vintage photographs of WWI and WWII helmets hung over guns stuck in the mud, their owners long gone into the Beyond, having died immediately from shells, shrapnel or grenades. I hear music and see videos from long ago war-times and think of my grandpa Ingram (and maybe many others) who long suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and ate their way into Type II Diabetes because that generation refused to acknowledge that it was okay to see a therapist for mental health care.
And my heart is torn. Torn over the sad necessity of WWII and the later conflict in the Balkans (1998, I think), both instances of deluded ideologues thinking one race or genetic makeup is better than another. I not only hope for peace, I pray that I can help bring about peace. Not by joining the military, as I believe that kind of activity only breeds more of what I dislike (in spite of my Aries tendency towards going a bit berserk over the little things that don't matter). But by practicing peace. By choosing and practicing peaceful ways of resolving conflict, maybe someday we won't need memorial days for soldiers. Someday we won't desire to put a bullet through someone's head just to rid the world of irrational despots, because someday the world will be free of the kind of emotional division and suffering that fear brings about.
...but we gotta start now....
In Remembrance,
Rev. Kat ^.^
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