Memorial Day

For The Fallen

They went into the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted:
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we are left to grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condem.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
                                     
                                      - Laurence Binyon

I attended several memorial services in Iraq in '04-'05 and '08-'09.  Young men and women whose lives ended in a roadside bomb or a snipers bullet.  The services were usually the same; rifle pointed into the ground with a helmet on top and boots at the base.  There was a picture of the Soldier in uniform.  But also with family, children, other brothers-in-arms.  Words, prayers, tears, hugs - never exactly right and never enough to mark the loss of someone in their prime.

Today all of those families across many generations and many conflicts will remember.  To quote Lincoln, "It is altogther fitting and proper that we should do this."

As I approach thirty years of service I know that the concept and act of war is enduring.  It has exisited for thousands of years as we have tried to hoist flags of nations or religions over one another.  War is enduring.



 

Insurance

I was not athletic as a kid.  That means I did not play organized sports.  Of course this was back in the day when Little League baseball and Pop Warner football were the only games in town.  Not like today where kids have a choice of soccer, swimming, Tae Kwon Do, or even rowing.   I ran track for a couple of seasons in High School – once running a 5:15 mile to the surprise of my coach and myself. 

As a kid my athleticism was running through the woods, sledding down the big hill at the golf course (and walking back up the hill), and swimming all summer.  We played tennis, stickball, and tag football; but never in an organized manner.  Still – I stayed thin and limber – just not athletic to a point where it was a part of my life.  Then again, who in their teens truly sees beyond the immediacy of the moment?  Very few.  You see them every four years on NBC.

Even in Basic Training I did push-ups, sit-ups, and ran out of fear of my Drill Sergeants than for passing the physical fitness test.  Once I made it to the New York State Trooper Academy I learned that if you ran faster than the others then you got to the shower first.  From there it started for me.

Since my mid-twenties I had maintained a level of physical fitness that wasn’t the pinnacle of human endeavor, but I didn’t have a gut and could run 7:00 miles for a 10k.  I could do push-ups and sit-ups in the high ninetieth percentile when I took my Army Physical Fitness Test.  I tried to “get big” in 2008-09 in Iraq but I lacked the discipline to take protein shakes and limit carbs even though I went to the gym almost every day.  I suppose I got strong without getting puffy.

Now I am forty-eight and fifty is creeping around the corner.

And I still lace up the shoes and pound the pavement.  Even with my bad knee I can still run a 5k in under 24:00 and the APFT 2 Mile Run in 14:15 on an easy day.  I go to the gym and lift with a goal in mind of getting stronger than I am now.

Why.

I look at working out as an insurance policy for the future.  Eating well and exercise might give me more time to play with the boys as they become teenagers and keep me agile for grandchildren one day.  I do it so I don’t have health issues now or in the future.  I have some ego in it too.  I want to be respected for looking the part of an Army officer, good looking dad/husband, and forty-something year old. 

I still work out to stay young in body, mind, and spirit for as long as I can.

Down Into Turn One

Look carefully at this old picture.  Number 17 is waiting to get onto the five-eights mile hard clay oval track of the Orange County Fair Speedway.   He's not exactly ready to go because his helmet and goggles are not on. It's probably a publicity photo for the speedway or for the weekly program. 

Most likely it's a Saturday evening early or late in the season based on the jackets and flannel the people are wearing.  The stands in the far back ground appear to be somewhat full. 

The men standing on boards in back of the green Chevrolet shortbed sidestep pick-up truck have their attention drawn to the first turn of the race track.  All four of them are watching with intensity.  Perhaps there is a lead change going on, or perhaps there is a bunched-up group of stock cars headed into the turn.  Maybe the race is close; down to the last few laps.  Or maybe there is an accident.

Looking carefully at the sidestep you see a red fire extinguisher.  Once you notice that one you look through the cockpit of number 17 you can see a whole bunch of fire extinguishers. 

The green pick-up is the safety vehicle for the race track.

The man in the red flannel shirt looking to his right into the first turn is my dad. 

In 1975.

In 1975 my dad would have been 42 years old; younger than either of his boys are now.  In fact, I would have been eight years old - the same age as TJ this year.  There is Dad in his prime of his life on a Saturday night doing something that gave him so much pleasure. 

The green truck belonged to Monroe Lumber; my dad's business.  Every Saturday he would close the lumber yard at noon.  In the spring, summer, and fall - if the weather was nice - he would load the back of the truck with fire extinguishers and drive to Middletown, NY, and provide safety and fire response for the race track. 

He loved stock car racing.  It gave him a thrill that other people get watching football, or hockey, or anything involving speed and human competition.  He never climbed into a car and drove it, he always enjoyed being a spectator.

When we got older we got to go with him.  Around 12 years old, I was allowed to drive the company forklift an load the fire extinguishers.  When I turned 16, I got a job at the raceway myself and would ride with him.  We came home covered in clay dust at midnight only to be met by mom at the back door who ordered us to strip and shower before we brought the dirt into the house.

My brother, Andy, found this picture and sent it to me.  It's so benign.  A simple promo picture that caught my dad in the background but it brought back so many great memories.  How awesome to see him like this.  In a few weeks it will be nine years since we lost him to cancer.  We miss him and this was a great way to remember him.