The Great Depression was one of the defining characteristics of my dad's life. Consequently, he grew up knowing the value of a dime, the need to live debt-free, and the importance of figuratively saving for a rainy day.
Perhaps of equal influence in crafting dad's view of the world was his service to Uncle Sam during WWII. During his tenure in the the U.S. Army, dad was not a stranger to combat. He knew both the victory and the horrors associated with the D-Day Invasion on the beaches of Normandy.
Dad was one of the lucky ones. He was honorably discharged after the war and came back home. There were others in the small community from which he came, that didn't make it back.
Dad's best friend from high school was one of those who paid the ultimate sacrifice for his country. That personal loss, along with others, unmistakably underscored that war is hell. Dad didn't need to look further than his own experience to have that understanding.
When Dad came home from the war, he wanted nothing more to do with guns. Of course, all of that was before my time, but I know that dad never had an interest in hunting. He distanced himself from anything associated with firearms. He was intent never to pick up a rifle again.
Dad never talked about his war experiences until toward the end of his life, but when WWII movies started being released in the 1950s, he took us to see them. As his children, he and Mother effectively communicated to us the "purpose of remembering" associated with Memorial Day.
After Ronnie's plane went down during the Christmas Bombing Raids of 1972, the following Memorial Day felt like a sucker punch in the gut. Ronnie was listed as MIA, but the unspoken fear associated with the likelihood that he could be one of those for whom Memorial Day is observed, weighed heavily on all of or family. We didn't talk about it at the time. It would have felt like betrayal, but I know that it was a struggle we all experienced.
Across the past 49-years, Memorial Day has always been a day that captured my attention. Overall, it has become a trigger to remind me to be grateful for the privilege of physically sharing a third of my life with him. He was my twin brother.
Perhaps the lyrics to Garth Brooks song entitled "The Dance" expresses it best:
"And now I'm glad I didn't know The way it all would end
The way it all would go Our lives Are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain But I'd have had to miss
The dance"
All My Best!
Don