I watched beautiful fireworks on the Fourth of July going up and falling back down into the night sky. As I looked around the crowd I saw families and friends. I saw little ones with excitement and wonder in their eyes. But, when “God Bless America” came on I couldn’t help but wonder about all the men and women fighting for our freedom in far away places while we party and play on this American land.
As I glanced around the big crowd I saw kids with ice cream running down their faces and old men in their wheel chairs. And, I couldn’t help but wonder how badly the men and women serving this great nation must be missing their families and would give anything to hold them tight on this star spangled night. As I stared at the woman who was wearing her husband’s dog tags and holding her child close, I could see her longing for that feeling she once may have had with him by her side. She raised her head with joy as that sky lit up but how would she feel when the sky turned black again? That magic only lasts but a few moments.
And, of course I thought about my grandfathers and my father…the men closest to me who have served this country. I think about this often and I do because my father was a marine in Viet Nam. It’s one of the most controversial wars in American history, but still a war. I’ve seen him cry twice, once when his father passed away and a second time when his brother died. Quite possibly I saw his eyes tear up while watching Platoon, Saving Private Ryan, and few great John Wayne country and westerns that I’m sure make him think of his youth. It’s the war movies that I’m sure strike a nerve in him. They must bring back feelings so deep and sad that I can’t really find the courage to ask him about his days in battle. Can you imagine being a teenager on the front lines fighting our country’s enemies? He was just a teenager, barely old enough to drive and vote in this country, barely old enough to say that he even lived.
Let me tell you what brings tears to my eyes when I think about my father at war. There was this one time he told me about the little Vietnamese girl that was freezing cold and had nothing to wear so he gave her his vest. I remember this story from childhood, and I remember asking him why he did that for her, he simply answered, “She was just a little girl like you and she needed to feel warm so I gave it to her. If you ever needed help I would pray someone would give it to you.” I think about the simple gesture that must have made that little girl feel special and loved for even just a minute. I think about his friend along side him in that madness, John Hogan. He went through basic training and all the way through his tour of duty by my father’s side. Every year he sends a Christmas card to my dad. Every year he puts a special note in there to tell my dad about his family and ask him how his is doing too. About seven years ago or more he was traveling from the West Coast to Philadelphia and stopped in for a visit. I walked in the room and met him and I felt something special. I felt a love and a bond between two men that never died. It has lived on through years and years and space and time.
John brought my father a special gift that day- his sea bag. When they got discharged from the Marines they stayed at John’s house and my father left it behind unknowingly. John gave it to him on this hot summer day forty some odd years later. It was a huge worn out green bag and it had the names of every city and country my father had traveled written in permanent black marker. I looked at this bag and I felt my eyes begin to fill and it was then that I realized my father really had seen the world and been all over. It wasn’t just to embellish his stories; he really did see it all. I really had found an even greater respect for my father that day. I felt the bond that these two men shared and I thanked John before he left for being a great friend to my father and a partner to him in battle, before I was even a thought. I also thanked him for always sending that Christmas card, if not for that, I might not know of this amazing man.
Years ago I was going through my father’s stuff and found his dog tags. I asked him if I could keep them and he said yes, of course. I keep them in a special place. I keep all of this in a special place. My father is one of my best friends and is the best man I know. He buys American made cars and products, he hates and I mean despises Jane Fonda, and he’s not real fond of most liberals. He thinks my generation is a tad lazy and crazy, and, well he has a point. He thinks everyone should serve for this country and it would make a boy a man. He’s just this way and I love him for every bit of it. I love him for serving my country and most importantly serving my family. He made his parent’s proud, my mom and brother, John Hogan, that little girl in Viet Nam, and he makes me so very proud. My father is a freedom fighter and I will fight for the rights of anyone who serves America. You may not always back the wars, but you should always back the troops.
Fireworks on the Fourth of July…Happy Birthday America, you have a wonderful family that keeps you safe and sound as the world turns round. God Bless America and the men and women who serve this great nation.
