Monday was not national Grill Out And Drink Beer day, though in my opinion far too many of us see it that way.
While it’s perfectly alright to spend a beautiful Spring day-off-from-work day with family and friends, time should be set aside, if not every day, at least this one weekend, to remember the soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, and guard and reservists who have lost their lives in service to their country. Formally or informally. Your choice.
Not long ago I was discussing this with Clyde, the proprietor of my local dive, Clyde’s Place.
“You know,” he said, “I got a nephew who just returned from Afghanistan. Third tour.”
“No, I knew David’s son was in the Army, but I didn’t know he was back fighting the Taliban again.”
“Yeah, he’s out now. Out of the Army I mean. With all his limbs intact. You know, I remember the day he told me was enlisting. Said he wanted to become a Ranger. He did it too. I’m real proud of that boy.”
“I remember him from Bengals football,” I said. “He was probably the best running back I ever saw outside the NFL. Bassett’s team went to hell after Jake and that Dalton boy graduated.”
“He’s coming by here later, why don’t I pour you another, on the house of course, and you can wait around and see him.”
“Sure Clyde, why not? It’s been what, ten years since I saw him? Throw me together one of those awful hot dogs too. Mustard, onions, chilli.”
“Mustard, onions, chilli.” he mocked. “You think I don’t know what you want on this awful hot dog by now?” Without having to ask he told me, “Texas Pete is on the counter, just like it’s always been.”
About that time Jake came in. The tall, rangy kid I remembered was one big ass man now. The face, a younger version of Clyde, though darkly tanned and windburned, was easily recognizable. The grin was just like it always was.
Jake recognized me too and sat to my left. “Hello Mr. Foley, it’s been a long time sir.”
“It has Jake. Clyde tells me you are out of the Army now. Thanks for keeping us free over here.”
“Respectfully Mr. Foley, it wasn’t our job to keep you free. That’s your job. Ours was to keep you alive. And it’s not just me, it’s all the military men and women, in offices and in the field, who are tasked with keeping you alive.”
Clyde dropped a plate in front of me, hot dog on one side and a big mound of fries on the other. Poured another Scotch. I dug in.
“Please Jake, drop the Mr Foley. It’s Alton. And put that ‘sir’ stuff in your pocket,” I said. “Anyway, I think I know what you mean, but take a moment and explain it to me please.”
“You see Mr…uh..Alton, in WWII there was a real chance of German or Japanese invasion. Those guys back then, in Europe and the Pacific, fought to keep you free. To stop any possibility of invasion.
“Korea and Vietnam were political stuff that no one can really explain but there was really no way in hell either one could invade us.
“What we’re fighting now is a movement. An ideology. One, like the previous two, that can’t actually invade either. Instead one that intends to bring us down with a thousand small cuts. Kill our civilians until they kill our will.
“My job was to stop as many of those small cuts as possible. Pass on intelligence to those who could stop the big ones.
“You and Clyde and Mr. and Mrs. Stanley over there are all responsible for your freedom by voting smart. Study the issues. Investigate your candidates. Never let the bastards in the back door, either in Congress, the White House, or the General Assembly.
“Now I read your stuff online, even while I was overseas, and I know you and many others do get it Alton. I ask that you guys continue to work for freedom through education.”
After wiping the Texas Pete and mustard drippings from my fingers I shook the hand of Jake Conway, the boy who left here long ago and came back a wise young man, I said, “Jake, I’m truly humbled. The “keeping us free” cliché is just that, a cliché, I should know better and I promise to keep it in check from now on. Instead I’ll just say thank you for the important work you do.”
“That’s much better Mr. Foley. You’re welcome.”
“Clyde, great hot dog! I gotta go. I’ll pay you later. Come spend time with Jake. He’s a smart guy, maybe you’ll learn something. I know I just did.”
*This is a mostly true story. Names and some dialog were changed.
