Holiday Weekend

I always try to remember the real meaning of this weekend. It’s easy to forget with BBQs and boats and beaches and lakes and the giddiness of the end of school.

I had (have) plenty service members in my family. My dad fought in Korea. The only time I ever saw Dad cry was describing the Battle of Pork Chop Hill to my kids. I thought it would be a great experience for them to hear about war from someone who had been in one. I wasn’t sorry after but I was humbled and saddened and awed.

He never spoke about his experience in Korea. He was a staunch Republican but I remember him saying once to a friend if we ever went to war and they had a draft he’d send my brothers to Canada. It was so shocking from someone who was otherwise so patriotic, lockstep, and I knew why he felt that way after that story of his experience at one of the bloodiest battles in history. A battle, honestly, I never knew about before that day. No person is one dimensional. People are a prism.

And he and I were close even though we existed far apart on the the political, life choices and so many other scales. That day I saw him in a new light so close to the end of his life, though, of course, I could not know that then. Like a character in a story I was being given a gift. He peeled a layer, shattered the image of the thankful immigrant I knew him as. I’m glad I heard about it before he left us.

Anyway, enjoy the holiday with family and friends remembering those who keep us safe here and far away.

Published by miasotowrites

Wannabe Writer Tired Mother Aspiring Slacker

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