It's Memorial Day. Time to remember our fallen heroes that served in the military. Actually, we should remember everyone in the service of our country: Those who work in our embassies and consulates, report the news, or work at other occupations overseas. They are all--and have been--targets at one time or another. Many have been kidnapped and held for ransom, murdered, or imprisoned (just because they were Americans). But when one thinks about it, those selfless people who put on the uniform and follow orders knowingly put themselves at risk. They've taken an oath to protect our country, an oath that is backed up by literally putting themselves in harm's way.
My dad, James Harold Keller, was one of those. He was a Staff Sergeant with the U.S. Army in Korea, 9th Infantry Regiment, E Company, 2nd Infantry Division. He was killed on November 26, 1950. I was told he did some intelligence work for the Army. I don't know exactly what that means, I was only a few months old when he was killed. His jeep ran over a landmine. All they found were his glasses and his wallet. At least that's what they shipped back home to my mom.
Dad was a veteran of World War II--and a career soldier. He'd seen a lot of action in the big war and wasn't ready to go back for more. He'd married my mother only a couple of years earlier. Now he had a family. But maybe that's why he went so willingly to that ghastly conflict. To defend America, to defend us, Mom and me. I'd like to think so, anyway. There have been so many times I would have loved to have known him; so many times I could have used his fatherly advice. Oh well, he gave all so that the rest of us could go about our lives, post blogs, blast the president, bear arms, and raise kids who litter their sentences with the word 'like.'
My dad was from Searcy County, Arkansas. They have a huge monument there with his and other names on it--for those who served in Korea and other wars. I guess it's a fitting monument for one with no grave to visit or lay flowers upon. They gave him the Bronze Star (back when a soldier had to actually see combat to be eligible). Oh, I forgot to mention, in 2005, South Korea also awarded my dad a beautiful medal. They sent it to me, his next of kin. It is baby blue, white, and lime green with the yin-yang symbol in royal blue and red like what is on the South Korean flag. It is in a special frame with the Army insignia and his picture. That medal reminds me of how much he was appreciated, not just by his own country, but by another for his ultimate sacrifice.
Memories overtake me... memories of my stepfather, David Hutton, who also served in the Army, and as my 'other' father. He taught me a lot, probably more than most stepfathers would have. But he was not my father. He was my brothers' father. Alex and Andrew were luckier than I in at least one aspect. They knew him. They knew his faults as well as his virtues. I only know about my own father from what my mother has told me. That he was a light drinker (3 beers was over the top for him!), that he had cataracts and had to have eye surgery, that he was crazy about me, that he was a good, good man who deeply loved his wife, his daughter, and his country. He was also a very handsome man (don't you think?).
My mother astonished me one evening a few years back. She said when she looked at my youngest son, Russell, sometimes she saw my dad--saw his brow and his nose and the curve of his mouth, and when the light hit just right, and his head was turned in a certain way, it took her breath away. Now I look at Russ a little differently, too.
Today is the day to remember all our heroes: The wounded, the shell-shocked, the ones who've brought the war back with them and can't sleep at night, and the ones will never come home to loved ones again. Yes, even in far-off wars where sometimes our reasons for being there seem vague and illogical, they still gave, they still served their country, without question. Whether or not you support the war they are fighting is not the point. The point is this: Our troops epitomize, stand for, and shoulder the strength of America. They are the chip on Uncle Sam's shoulder. They are the reason we are able to enjoy our barbecues, our family, our friends, and everything this wonderful country has to offer.
Thanks, Dad, for your sacrifice. But I still would liked to have had you for a little while longer. I would liked to have gotten to know you. But then you were the career soldier, the one who put on the uniform and followed orders on that snowy November day in Kujang, so the rest of us could live in peace.
To our military men and women, I salute you and thank you.
Hoo-Rah!
My dad, James Harold Keller, was one of those. He was a Staff Sergeant with the U.S. Army in Korea, 9th Infantry Regiment, E Company, 2nd Infantry Division. He was killed on November 26, 1950. I was told he did some intelligence work for the Army. I don't know exactly what that means, I was only a few months old when he was killed. His jeep ran over a landmine. All they found were his glasses and his wallet. At least that's what they shipped back home to my mom.
Dad was a veteran of World War II--and a career soldier. He'd seen a lot of action in the big war and wasn't ready to go back for more. He'd married my mother only a couple of years earlier. Now he had a family. But maybe that's why he went so willingly to that ghastly conflict. To defend America, to defend us, Mom and me. I'd like to think so, anyway. There have been so many times I would have loved to have known him; so many times I could have used his fatherly advice. Oh well, he gave all so that the rest of us could go about our lives, post blogs, blast the president, bear arms, and raise kids who litter their sentences with the word 'like.'
My dad was from Searcy County, Arkansas. They have a huge monument there with his and other names on it--for those who served in Korea and other wars. I guess it's a fitting monument for one with no grave to visit or lay flowers upon. They gave him the Bronze Star (back when a soldier had to actually see combat to be eligible). Oh, I forgot to mention, in 2005, South Korea also awarded my dad a beautiful medal. They sent it to me, his next of kin. It is baby blue, white, and lime green with the yin-yang symbol in royal blue and red like what is on the South Korean flag. It is in a special frame with the Army insignia and his picture. That medal reminds me of how much he was appreciated, not just by his own country, but by another for his ultimate sacrifice.
Memories overtake me... memories of my stepfather, David Hutton, who also served in the Army, and as my 'other' father. He taught me a lot, probably more than most stepfathers would have. But he was not my father. He was my brothers' father. Alex and Andrew were luckier than I in at least one aspect. They knew him. They knew his faults as well as his virtues. I only know about my own father from what my mother has told me. That he was a light drinker (3 beers was over the top for him!), that he had cataracts and had to have eye surgery, that he was crazy about me, that he was a good, good man who deeply loved his wife, his daughter, and his country. He was also a very handsome man (don't you think?).
My mother astonished me one evening a few years back. She said when she looked at my youngest son, Russell, sometimes she saw my dad--saw his brow and his nose and the curve of his mouth, and when the light hit just right, and his head was turned in a certain way, it took her breath away. Now I look at Russ a little differently, too.
Today is the day to remember all our heroes: The wounded, the shell-shocked, the ones who've brought the war back with them and can't sleep at night, and the ones will never come home to loved ones again. Yes, even in far-off wars where sometimes our reasons for being there seem vague and illogical, they still gave, they still served their country, without question. Whether or not you support the war they are fighting is not the point. The point is this: Our troops epitomize, stand for, and shoulder the strength of America. They are the chip on Uncle Sam's shoulder. They are the reason we are able to enjoy our barbecues, our family, our friends, and everything this wonderful country has to offer.
Thanks, Dad, for your sacrifice. But I still would liked to have had you for a little while longer. I would liked to have gotten to know you. But then you were the career soldier, the one who put on the uniform and followed orders on that snowy November day in Kujang, so the rest of us could live in peace.
To our military men and women, I salute you and thank you.
Hoo-Rah!
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