It Will Never Be Enough
I hope your work today was interrupted with yet One More Thing you had to rearrange in order to get to yet One More School Thing.
I hope you were irritated and a little bit annoyed. Even if you kept it to yourself. Which we all do, because these are the kids we’re talking about, and, in spite of all the little things that get in the way (or so it seems from where we sometimes stand), this is the stuff their little lives are made of.
I hope you got to the school just in time to find out you should have arrived about 45 minutes earlier because the place is packed to the gills.
With kids.
And their parents.
And camcorders.
And grandparents.
And every neighbor in the neighborhood.
And I hope you were sardined shoulder-to-shoulder and polite and gracious when cameras came out, at the ready, to get a shot of each child with a line to read.
I hope you had to have this conversation with your boy today, “Um, no Alex. You will please tuck in that uniform shirt right now. The men and women you’re honoring today need it perfect. Your great-grandfather needs it perfect.”
“Dad…his name is Roland. And he’s dead.”
“His name just so happens to be Roland Owen Garland, and I don’t care if he’s been dead a thousand years. If he saw that uniform shirt not tucked in he’d come through the woodwork and string me up. Tuck it in. It’s Veteran’s Day. And it matters. Go.”
And I hope that when you saw the little hellion come in carrying the colors, you worked hard to hold it together because you realized you’re looking at what may just be, unfortunately, and also fortunately, a room full of our future defenders.
And I hope you had to push from your mind the unthinkable likelihood that someday, some of these babies will make the ultimate sacrifice. For us.
I hope that when all this young Perfect stood up and sang Grand Old Flag, and recited poems, and speeches…
…each one hardly knowing they have no idea what it is they’re really speaking into…
…or why all their parents’ eyes are brimming…
…that you stood up too and decided whatever meeting, phone call, or project was waiting for you because of this little interruption, could just wait till Hell froze over for all you care.
And when the young Perfect sang each branch’s theme song, I hope you turned around and saw this gentleman…
Who rose to lend his voice to the halls of Montezuma…
…who was helped up by his wife…
…with whom he’s been with since before the war…
…and who was shaking as he stood, because he’s been around that long and gets to shake if he wants to, and don’t you forget it. Plus, oxygen tanks are cumbersome…
…and who stood their trying to sing but couldn’t because he was crying…
…because though we couldn’t help but look at him (a photo of the moment would have been disrespectful, to put it mildly), we watched him watch the kids.
Singing.
To him.
And saluting hope. And courage. And You Do What Has To Be Done Because It Has To Be Done, thanking him. Even though all the thanks in the world will never be enough.
It will never be enough.
And I hope that after the program ends and you turn your head graciously so that your neighbors can wipe their tears while you wipe yours, you muster the courage to walk up to that Old Guard and tell him, “…my grandfather was in the war, sir. He’s no longer with us. But when I saw you, I kind of see him. And I really miss that sonofabitch. So. Thanks.”
And I hope that when he puts his older hand on your younger shoulder and smiles, you carry it with you for the rest of the day.
And I damn sure hope your shirt is tucked in.
Thank you, Todd.
I followed such a gentlemen into a parking lot just the other day. I wasnt going there, I was just driving down the road. But I noticed him and the purple heart on his plates and that his hair was white with both hands on the wheel and well under the speed limit. I waited patiently for him to park and turn off his car. He saw a 6’2″, 215# stranger in a suit and tie holding his door, he was a bit worried. But when I told him I just wanted to shake his hand and thank him for his service, he cried. It only took a minute of my time, and didnt make me late, but it was thee best part of my week.
It isnt every enough TC. And yes my shirt is tucked in. Thank you for the post and for stepping in the gap on behalf of all the Rolands to your children.
Todd,
I told you to stop trying to make grown men cry! Thanks for that though. You know how to do it right man!
beauuuuuuuuutiful……..thought i already ‘liked’ wip but somehow have missed all this. bravo!
Another bit of awesomeness from *the* Todd