I jokingly have always referred to Nov. 11 (Veterans Day) as my Birthday Eve, and deeply appreciate the fact that a federal holiday falls so closely to my birthday because it basically guarantees that I get a freebie day off on which to celebrate, well, me.
But in all seriousness, Veterans Day is, to me, one of the most meaningful days that our government has chosen to commemorate. My father is a 23-year Air Force veteran. I grew up in military communities all over the world and he deployed during the first Gulf War. I know firsthand what members of the military and their families give up on a daily basis to ensure our freedom. My wonderful grandfather, who died last February, was a member of the “Greatest Generation,” a John Wayne lookalike who enlisted in the Marines during WWII and fought in the Pacific.
However, when I think of a veteran, the first one that comes to mind is Uncle Bill. He is a man I’ve never met, but one who has achieved a hero-like status in our family. Uncle Bill was the older brother of my grandfather, the oldest of my great-grandfather’s five children. My great-grandpa was a veterinarian and cattle farmer in a very small town in central Illinois. Our family was pretty prominent in this small town, which is to say that a great deal of the town was related.
From everything I’ve heard, Bill was a sharp kid — smart, witty, funny. He was a good student and went off to college at a challenging private liberal arts college in IL (the same college both of my parents would graduate from 40-some years later). He majored in English, acted in drama productions and served as editor of the college paper. After college, Uncle Bill eventually returned to his hometown and became an English teacher at his old high school.
I believe he was drafted into service in the Army after WWII began, and was sent to Europe, where he served in Holland. Like any good English teacher would, Bill continued writing, in the form of long, chatty, descriptive letters — to his parents, his brothers and sister, other family members and friends, students, etc. It was nearly the end of the war when Uncle Bill was killed — some of his fellow soldiers were guarding a border one night, he went out in a jeep to take them dinner and drove over a explosive device. He was buried in one of the American military cemeteries in the Netherlands. After his death, the family collected all his letters and had them published in a book for family and friends.
When my father was stationed in Europe, we had the chance to visit the cemetery and see Bill’s grave. It was especially meaningful because my parents had chosen to name my youngest brother (who at the time was a newborn) after Uncle Bill. A couple of times we attended a Memorial Day ceremony at the cemetery, where family of the deceased were honored guests. Coincidentally, Uncle Bill is buried not too far away from his brother-in-law Bob, the husband of my Aunt Elizabeth, who had also been killed in WWII.
It’s funny, but I’ve always felt that my immediate family had some weird connections to Uncle Bill — echoes of his personality, maybe. I mentioned that my parents went to the same college, and that’s actually where they met and fell in love. My parents and my brothers and I have all acted in drama productions over the years, like Uncle Bill, and we’re really the only ones in our extended family who are into the performing arts. And I’ve always been a writer, like he was, and I served as editor of my college paper as well. Plus, I’ve read some of the letters my father wrote to his parents while he was stationed overseas, and I can see the same chatty, conversational tone that Uncle Bill’s letters had. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if my Dad had a lot of his uncle’s personality.
I have always wished that we hadn’t lost Uncle Bill during WWII, because I really would have liked to get to know him. But I’m thankful for him, and my Grandpa, and my Dad, and the millions of other men and women who have served…those who died and those who lived who tell their stories.
(I don’t have a picture of Uncle Bill, but that’s my Grandpa in his Marine uniform…he was very handsome.)
