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VETERANS' DAY, 2001
by
Bruce F. Barber
I was heading up to bed
at the time, feeling good for having had a really nice day. As I reflected
on it, this special day had begun as most days do, around 4:00 a.m. at
my computer. I pulled down my e-mail, reviewed it, and sent the appropriate
replies. Then, because it was garbage day, I went around the house to
collect trash and garbage and put it out.
Freda came down and we sat for half an hour with coffee until it was time
for me to begin the chore I had assigned myself for this morning. Meanwhile,
she departed and returned from church, I put liquid bandaid on a blister
I had managed while she was gone, and we departed for Bill and Kay Gabbard's
charity breakfast. Sitting with Frank, Dorrel, Dale and Myrna, we acknowledged
many others on a really beautiful San Felipe morning. It was a chance
to reflect upon one of those extra-special benefits we enjoy in retirement:
Friends!
Home again, Freda prepared a special dish for today's Pot Luck Dinner
at the South Campos' Community Center where we had been invited to participate
in the second Veterans' Day celebration to be held at the site. This was
the idea of one Walt "Jarhead" Jones, of Campo Adriana, who
had convened the first such celebration last Veterans' Day and enjoyed
21 local participants.
Whereas the idea of celebrating this special day between military veterans
and their loved ones (a people who share a common bond) is not unique,
it becomes unique when residing in a foreign country. Junio, who attended
last year's event, had invited Freda and me and suggested we bring as
many vets and their mates as we could.
It was a thirty mile drive for us and at least a dozen more for anyone
living in the El Dorado community. When you think about it, driving 60
to 80 miles for Happy Hour and a Pot Luck Dinner is not as inviting as
it may sound. But, I hasten to add, what we found after driving our thirty
miles, was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!
"Jarhead" is a colloquial name given, many years ago, to American's
Marines. Although all one has to do to understand who and what Marines
really are is read about the battle for Iwo Jima, we tend to think of
Marines as "Jarheads," "Gyrenes" or "Grunts"
because, in military circles, it is the popular thing to do.
Walt Jones is a far cry from the mental picture conjured up by the word
"jarhead." Typical of most Marines, he stands tall, wear himself
proud, and is an obvious leader. He captured my attention when, midway
through the afternoon madness, he marched to the microphone, called for
order, and asked each of the attending Vets to come to the mike, introduce
themselves, and tell the assembled men and women the part they had played
in the military.
There was an obvious camaraderie in the air. Few of us really knew each
other although the bond we had shared in uniform brought us together again
as one cohesive group. There was a man who had flown twenty-five missions
over Europe whose commander had been Hollywood's Jimmie Stewart. There
was a woman who had served her WWII time in the Women's Army Corps. There
were soldiers, sailors and marines; a retired policeman, and a man from
the Mexican Army.
At one point in the afternoon, I counted eighty men and women (including
fifteen in our San Felipe contingent) and saw seven others come through
the door after that. Then, as the sun disappeared behind the western mountains,
Walt called for attention again, asked a young lady to draw a ticket from
the can he held, and Alan Dobson, both a Canadian and an American Vet,
won the lottery, a prize he's donating to an American Legion-sponsored
Children's Club.
Still reflecting on this special day, I drifted off to sleep wondering
about next year's celebration: Among the group Freda and I represent,
there are many who would enjoy the military pot of gold we participated
in today.
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