The Reluctant Patriot
A recycled reflection on patriotism:
I have always been somewhat cynical about my military service. I am also suspicious of “thank you for your service,” “Support the Troops!” and most other forms of uncritical patriotism or nationalism. Veterans Day in 2019 shifted my view.
November 11, 2019 marked the 50th Veterans Day since my discharge from the Army in 1969. I served for 3 years - a 1st Lieutenant at the time of my release from service. For 49 years I paid scant attention, as neither my veteran status nor patriotic holidays hold deep meaning to me. Or so I thought.
That particular Monday dawned brilliant in Colorado. Our grandchildren spent the night on Sunday. Maddie came down to the kitchen and, when I offered to make pancakes, she suggested a flag pancake in honor of Veterans Day. I’ve always found the phrase “thank you for your service” a bit amusing, as my “service” was neither voluntary nor distinguished, but a flag pancake is quite a different thing. Maddie used decorative frosting for a few stripes and a Christmas cookie cutter to make several stars.
There was more than a flag pancake in store for me on this Veterans Day. Maddie’s school, like many around the country, planned an afternoon assembly to honor veterans among the school’s parents and grandparents. She invited me and it seemed quite important to her. Given that I would walk on broken glass for my grandchildren, gritting my teeth to be part of a patriotic ceremony was within my capacity. I did not look forward to it.
I arrived before the assembly – she had repeatedly reminded me to be on time – and joined a line of about 35 other veterans, mostly fathers, no women – a mix of (mostly) Army, Air Force and Marines. As we stood awaiting a “grand” entrance, the kids streamed by holding small flags, glancing sidelong at us with great curiosity. I’m not sure the younger kids knew exactly what “veteran” means. Maddie grinned at me as she passed.
We vets were seated in a row in front of 700 kids and their teachers as the uber-enthusiastic Principal (also a Marine veteran) asked us to rise, place hands on hearts and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I don’t like the Pledge of Allegiance. I believe it is unconstitutional (Under God) and a mindless bit of indoctrination. I am sufficiently mature to save my conspicuous skepticism for other occasions so I placed my hand over my heart so as to avoid easy detection. I also remained inconspicuously silent, so as to avoid total hypocrisy.
The Pledge was followed by the Star Spangled Banner, performed surprisingly well by someone’s older sister. I immediately thought about Colin Kaepernick, but stayed upright. I suppose you might say I took a metaphorical knee for my granddaughter.
A microphone was passed from vet to vet, each of us introducing ourselves, the nature and time of our service and a few words of wisdom. I was one of only two from the Vietnam War. I felt briefly fossilized and wanted to yell out, “I can still run and stuff!” The others talked about honor and service. Many implored the kids to consider a life of service to others, whatever forms it might take. One exhorted them to study hard, lest they end up in the Navy. That brought chuckles from the row of vets and crickets from the kids. Just before my turn, I caught Maddie’s eye and got tears in my own. This was indeed important to her.
I introduced myself as Maddie Nelson’s grandfather and said a few things about being in the Army and how you should never be afraid to ask “why” when ordered to use force or do something that seems wrong. I tried to sprinkle a few grains of “question authority” into an atmosphere of “respect your elders.” The school and the community are pleasantly traditional, although I noted with relief that no MAGA hats were apparent. The assembly concluded with a set of songs with “thanks for your service” lyrics, prepared by the music teacher and kids.
After the assembly several folks thanked me for my service as Maddie and I headed to her third grade classroom.
Upstairs I learned that Maddie was to interview me in front of the class. She, often inclined more toward poop jokes, was delightfully composed and we worked through a list of 20 or 30 questions that had been prepared ahead of time. I honored my father-in-law, who was wounded and captured during the disastrous Dieppe Raid in WWII. Maddie was transfixed as I told his story.
The kids were fully engaged. My brief stories of military training left them wide-eyed with amazement, especially the parts about getting all my hair shaved off and cleaning toilets with a toothbrush. After the prepared questions they were invited to ask their own. Hands shot up. Girls asked about the food and what it all felt like. Boys asked what guns I got to fire and if I got to drive tanks. The answers were “many” and “yes.” They liked that.
I am generally troubled by flag-waving patriotism, but I know my cynicism is due to the bad wars instigated by politics, not the good service provided by military women and men.
On that one Veterans Day I was glad to be among the other veterans who served or are serving the ideals of liberty and justice. For a moment - just a moment - I allowed myself to reflect on the unfinished nobility of the American experiment rather than on the many ways we fail the promise.