I’m aware I’ve been a bit MIA for the last couple of months. My job drained every bit of passion and desire to write so I havent really been able to put my heart into anything. However, on 11/24 I will be starting a new job and I cannot be more thrilled. I will cover that in another piece. Maybe tomorrow, but today is Veterans Day and that deserves all the attention and recognition for today.

I was raised in a very pro-military family. My grandfather and great uncle both fought in WWII, my uncle was a marine, and my brother served tours in Iraq and Afghanistan with the Army. I was raised with the history of our country and the wars that were fought to sustain it, from the Revolutionary War to the Vietnam War and everything in between and after. My parents never shielded us from the price of our freedom. For example, in 8th grade we had to give group presentations on the Holocaust and I was one of a couple if not the only one that actually knew what happened and the affects the Nazi regime had on the world. I knew about it because my mother was raised in a home where she was taught about it because my grandparents lived it. So there is only so much you can learn in books and in school and even when I went to D.C. as an 8th grader, it still wasnt as surreal to me as the day I went to Ohama Beach in Normandy, France.

I was 17, about to start my senior year of high school, and going to this hollowed ground shook me to my core. In the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan, they portray this beach and the battle that took place there. It’s been said that it’s probably the most accurate cinematic portrayal of this battle, but physically being on that beach and seeing the steep incline to get to the high ground, I was almost dumb founded that anyone would even attempt to overtake it. Sincerely, this thing was a death trap, but yet on D-Day 156,000 troops voluntarily stormed a 50 mile stretch of beach. I mean this was the pinnacle of WWII that turned the momentum for the Allied Forces. Here I am on this beach, moved to tears, not even from the memorial, but just by a beach and a hill because I know that this war wasnt fought for money or power on our part. It was fought against oppressors and threats of evil in our world.

Anyway, let me get back on track because I will rant for hours about WWII. Fast forward to my older brother joining the Army. I was still pretty young when he did his first tour, so it didnt affect me as much as his second tour because I was 18 at the time. But my mom always talks about one of her friends saying how Kevin could die and isnt my mom afraid or why would she let him do this and blah blah blah. My mom said “Kevin could die crossing the street. If he wants to serve his country, who am I to stop him?” And let me tell you, my brother worked his ass off to join the Army. Anyone that knows my brother, knows he is a stocky man. Even in his prime he was a big guy and in perfect shape. He could run miles without an issue, but he just couldn’t meet the measurement requirements. We Irish are short stalky people. He and my mom tried everything. They would literally saranwrap him and he would go run. I mean he was determined. So in New Mexico, there is a special qualifier that he could complete to join the Army. He had two minutes to step up on a two foot step at a sprint pace. No stopping. If you stop you’re disqualified. (Now granted my times and proportions on this could be off since I didn’t get to talk to Kevin about it today, but it’s in the ballpark) Kevin is one of four people in the state of New Mexico to ever complete it. The other three are women.

Now back to his service. So like I said I was still young when he did his first tour so it wasn’t as impactful. We wrote letters all through his time over seas. Some letters I still have to this day. The second tour hit a little harder. He was less than a year away from being discharged and we found out he would be going to Afghanistan. It’s so funny the little things you remember. I came home from work and my parents told me and I just went and sat in my closet and cried. Since he was stationed in El Paso at the time we actually got to go see him off. The first time he was in New York so we just had quick hugs before he left for the airport. This time we had to be there. To sit in anticipation. To feel the heaviness of the air. To actually say goodbye not knowing what the future would bring. A couple months later in school, my English professor would ask us to write about an impactful moment in our lives and adapt it into a poem. This is the moment I wrote about. Mr. Kline was an Army vet himself with a son about to deploy so he latched on to it quickly and helped me with it. I haven’t taken it out in years and worked on it. I should, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, that was in November 2011. I remember making care packages to send for him and the number one thing he asked for was socks because the place they were at didn’t have running water so they didn’t shower. They wore socks for a couple days and then threw them away. He called home on Christmas and told my mom that enough of the guys in his unit were due to discharge in June like he was so they were sending everyone home. My mom says it was the best Christmas present ever.

But Kevin never really talked to me about what he had experienced. He did talk to my mom and my mom has told me over the years, but I think there was very much a need to protect us and himself from the things he experienced. I will say we’ve been very fortunate, because he came back with relatively no issues. He left it all over there. I mean he’s the same obnoxious brother I had growing up. So that was the standard for my in depth knowledge of war, but then I met Anthony. If you know Anthony, he is a very private person. He doesnt give out a lot personal information about himself. So you can imagine, it took me a while to get through that wall. Mostly because no one had ever been behind it before so this was uncharted territory for both of us. He did open up to me about the things he had experienced as a solider and deep invisible wounds that had been left on him. We talked about the support that is offered to Vets and the treatment they receive when they get home. It’s not my place to tell his story, but I can tell you the price he paid and the price paid by those that didnt make it back, is worth more than any one of us could ever offer. He’ll tell you he didnt join the military for recognition or glory. He didn’t join the Army for the free meals on Veterans day, but because he felt like it was his duty. And what do we, as American citizens, do with that? The answer is not enough.

11% of the homeless population is veterans. 1.4 million other veterans, meanwhile, are considered at risk of homelessness due to poverty, lack of support networks, and dismal living conditions in overcrowded or substandard housing. In 2017, Veterans accounted for 13.5% of all deaths by suicide among U.S. adults. That should floor every citizen to their core, but yet year after year nothing changes. We see online movements to end veteran suicide but where is the outrage for their suffering? Why are we not marching and protesting on their behalf? We are all here today because of military sacrifice whether you support the military or not. You may not be one to join the ranks, but you do enjoy the spoils every day you wake up in a free country. So today on Veterans Day, genuinely take the time to thank a veteran.