Pausing on Memorial Day

Though we had been in class together for a semester, we were basically still strangers as we sat around a campfire together on a cool June evening. No one really said much during the one hour class that met twice a week during the weeks leading up to that evening. We came, listened, and left to get on with our days.

During the semester, I had become a bit familiar with a young woman of about 21 and with a woman about my age who had children of her own. The three of us became pals for our final assignment of completing the 24 hour class camping trip.

In our class was a young African-American man. All I knew about him prior to the trip was that he was quiet, and that his athletic style clothing ensembles always matched perfectly.

As we sat around the fire that evening, the older of the two of my acquaintances asked him where his tent was. Her motherly instincts seemed to be coming out as she noticed that his spot in the circle of tents contained only a tarp with a green sleeping bag on it, and his one bag of gear.

He answered that the army issue sleeping bag should be fine for whatever weather we would encounter that night. He then politely declined a couple offers from other guys in our class to bunk in their tents if he wanted to.

After thanking him for his service, she asked about his career in the military. As I thought about him already having had a career in the military, I was rather amazed. He was still basically a kid to both of us, now in our 40s.

Our instructor and the class as a whole had become interested in this new conversation that had started as we sat around the fire. The young man told us that he had landed in Afghanistan after dark with 40 men. There assignment was to clear an area and make it safe for a unit that would be setting up some kind of operations there within the next few days. He said that by the end of the night, nearly half of those men had lost their lives.

A few more questions were asked, but most of us sensed that he had said all that he had wanted to say, and conversations moved in different directions.

I haven’t kept in touch with any of those classmates. and I don’t remember the name of the young man who had served our country so bravely before he had even reached 23 years of age, but I will never forget hearing his story that night.

Memorial Day has always been of some interest to me because my dad served in the Army, 220 recon aviation division. I was always proud to go out with him at noon on Memorial Day and lower the flag from half staff then raise it again to fly freely at the top of our poll. After those times at home with dad were over, it was like the holiday lost some of its meaning for me.

A few years ago, my husband and I discovered the National Memorial Day Concert that airs on PBS on the Sunday evening prior to the holiday. It is always well done and often quite moving, but Memorial Days still felt impersonal to me.

Last night, as we watched the presentation of the concert, a very somber presentation this year compared to others, I began to think about all of the people that I do know who have served or are serving our country.

Two of the women in a group of my running friends from across the country served our country. I know more of the details of the life of one of those two women than of the other, but I am grateful to each of them for their service.

One of the two is married to a man who is still serving. He is working in his role at home now, but he has been deployed on several occasions, leaving our friend at home with their three children. Even now, his work requires him to be out of contact with them at times.

Their family is a frequent reminder to me of the sacrifice that the family makes along with the men and women who serve. The partner left behind becomes a single parent, solely responsible for all of the operations of the home and family. It’s amazing the responsibilities they carry all while dealing with the concerns of having their partner thousands of miles away. We owe the families a debt of gratitude as well.

Several years had passed since I graduated from a Christian college with my writing degree when I reconnected with an acquaintance from that college. I remembered him as being bright and having a great sense of humor. He had established a life in Michigan, my home state, when we made contact through social media. I found out that he had experienced several successes and challenges. I also found out that he too had served in the military. I am grateful for his choice to dedicate some of his time in service to our country.

I also thought of a young man who I met while training three times a week in the Korean martial art hap ki do. He had already earned his black belts in both tae know do and hap ki do when I started at the academy. While I was training there, he had traveled to Korea and had won gold and silver medals in competitions. His athletic talents were amazing. It was his character that outshined all of that though. He was a role model to the younger ones who trained at the academy, and because he embodied the discipline, respect, and humility that were core values at the academy, he was a worthy role model indeed.

It was no surprise that he was successful in the military, with his Marine sniper unit. We were happy when he returned from his first deployment in Iraq, and since he was a reservist, we had hoped he wouldn’t have to go again.

I remember when he came to say goodbye before he left for his second deployment. It was just before class on a hot evening. He greeted the guys, and I was next. I was already sweaty so I wasn’t sure I wanted to give a hug, but I did because I wasn’t sure when I would see him again.

I never did see him again, in person. I did see the picture in the paper when he returned from his second deployment. He and his girlfriend looked the part, both beautiful people embracing each other upon his safe return from Iraq.

It was over a year later that my husband came across his obituary. He was working as a secret service agent in Washington DC when he was killed in an accident.

Though I have not named any of the others about whom I have written in this post, out of respect for their privacy, I will name this friend as Memorial Day is intended both for expressing gratitude to the living but also honoring the lives and the memories of those who have passed. Gamsahamnida, Pascal Hall, and may your life and your work be long remembered.

Once A Champion

“I tend to think that each new day brings a new possibility to be a champion, an also ran, a quitter, or a loser. Most people are all of the above at different times or on different days.”

I found myself oddly fixated on those two sentences the day the email arrived in my inbox. I found that, though they had the potential to be inspirational, they were also quite intimidating.

I thought about how I’ve always wanted to be a champion, but more often than not, I’ve been an “also ran,” and I certainly felt like I’ve been a loser more times than I wanted to think about. I know too that I have even been a quitter, though that pains me to admit.

As those words continued to come back to me, to the extent that I was inspired to write this blog post because of them, I pondered what it really means to be a champion, an also ran, a quitter, or a loser.

The formal definitions of a champion according to Merriam-Webster is: “a winner of first prize or first place in competition.” It’s interesting that, though this definition is the one that most often comes to mind first, it is last in their list of definitions. Listed first is “warrior, fighter” and listed second and third are the definitions: “a militant advocate or defender; one that does battle for another’s rights or honor.”

Merriam-Webster does indeed define also ran: “a horse or dog that finishes out of the money in a race; a contestant that does not win; one that is of little importance especially competitively.”  I can relate. Most of my life I have felt like that “one that is of little importance” in several areas where it seems to matter.

So what makes one a loser? Again I went to Merriam-Webster for the formal definitions: “a person or thing that loses especially consistently; a person who is incompetent or unable to succeed.” That’s harsh, but it’s technically accurate I suppose. I think that many people add an element of choice to the connotation of a loser, envisioning a person who makes poor choices consistently.

Though it’s rather obvious, I will also share the Merriam-Webster definition for quitter: “one that quits; especially one that gives up too easily.” One who gives up too easily…this one is a challenge for me. Having grown up in a “never quit” culture, I had to learn to determine the difference between quitting and understanding when something just isn’t meant to be, or when the time has come to say enough is enough. Reaching those conclusions is rarely easy.

In most cases, life doesn’t come with big wins and losses in the same way competitions like sporting events do. We go through life doing what is expected of us, sometimes more and sometimes less, but we just do what’s there to be done. At times we fail, but hopefully more often than not we succeed. Still, those successes are not noticed or celebrated in the same way as when someone wins a formal competition. Often the losses, the bad grades in school or the errors on job tasks, are more noticed and carry more significant consequences in everyday life.

Though one’s character is typically expressed in the events of every day living, it seems that more often than not we are the only ones who truly know which of those roles we have played in any given situation. We know whether or not we’ve given it our best – whether or not we get the win, whatever form that takes. So too, we often know when we may have given up or given in too soon, or even when we’ve played the role of a loser.

The perfectionist in me struggles with the notion that only one of those roles indicates success. I suspect that being a champion may not always look like I think it should look; it’s more about the way in which one chooses to conduct oneself than about the end result at times.

 

The person who made the statement that opens this blog post has several athletic accomplishments to his credit; he is a champion in many aspects of the word. Once my teacher, he continues to challenge me, intentionally or inadvertently. I appreciate that because the challenges are necessary in being a champion.