The Soul of America
I made an unplanned drive today. It was along a route I have never driven before. The scenery was exceptional, filled with well-tended land, trees, and shrubbery as I navigated along an equally well-maintained highway. The notable man-made structures along the way were gated communities enclosing homes that were priced well beyond my budget. The gates and the surrounding walls reminded me that I could not enter because I didn’t have the fare. Undaunted, I traveled on.
After just a few miles, I arrived at my destination. It was a place of quiet grandeur that defied the drive to get there. It was filled with history and heritage—and heroes without mortgages. It carried a different price tag. It was the final resting place for soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen who had served their country well in times of war.
I don’t wear my patriotism on my sleeve, yet each step I took as I walked slowly among the perfectly aligned headstones tugged at my heart, at my sense of purpose, and at my pride as I looked upon row after row of white marble. I was among those I knew so well, not personally, but by their resolve, and by their deeds.
There were very few visitors here at this solemn site, that lay in contrast to the premier homes nearby. Here privates, sergeants, and colonels all reside together. Rank has no privileges. The ground is the great equalizer. Checks are neither offered nor required. It is as free as honorable men and women could make it. Still, there is a price for admission.
In these contentious times, when our resolve is being tested by attacks on our patriotism, on our honor, and on our love of country, this is perhaps a good time to pause, and to rethink our commitment about what is important to us. It is OK to seek safety and a sense of achievement in our gated communities, in our social standing, and in our possessions. But freedom is different. It comes at a higher price. It is paid in blood, sweat, and tears. It is reflected in our history and in what we value. It is more than our earnings or our wealth, on in how much we give to charity. The real price of entry is embedded in history, and in our obligations to each other. The ultimate price of freedom is in the sacrifices we make to keep the soul of America alive as a beacon of hope for everyone.
There is some privilege in military burial. I believe you have to be "special" to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Although much ado is played over the "unknown soldier," most unknown soldiers are not buried in Arlington. And our Armed Forces have changed. In World War II, almost everyone who was able either volunteered or was conscripted from all walks of society. They died from the luck of the draw, largely unprotected in battle. In the Vietnam War, it was only those who could not avoid the draft, unlike me with first, a student deferment, and then, a disability one. And unlike the rich and privileged like two of our recent presidents, George W. Bush and Donald J. Trump.
Our Armed Forces have become more mercenary since those heroes were buried. Recruits are either new immigrants trying to establish citizenship, those who their parents believe will "grow up," by being inducted into the Armed Forces, and those who seek a college education offered free by most of the services as an incentive to sign up. The brass is still made up of those from the military academies and those few college graduates who opt for a military career over a career in the private or government sectors. Far fewer military die in our remote control wars these days and those that are saved after serious injury like amputations and brain injury, become part of the growing concern over the lack of medical and other care provided our veterans after their service and their sacrifice.
Ron
Rebecca
Ingeborg