Memorial Day is like the unsung heroes it celebrates, sometimes remembered, oftentimes not. I think back to a time of innocence when Katie, in her third grade wisdom, reminded us that war is the sum of the individuals who give their lives for our freedom. Instead of being overwhelmed when we visited the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. back in August 1998, she brought the massive wall down to her size and understood the magnitude of what she was seeing. She focused on the first name she saw, John, and the last name, Jesse. And to her they were real men, real soldiers, real heroes.
In 2001, we visited the American Immigrant Wall of Honor at Ellis Island in New York. This time, Katie searched for names she knew, that of her grandfather and great-grandparents. Heroes of a different kind, who against all obstacles, with courage and faith, made the journey to America, a journey that took them away from their families, homes and heritage to a foreign land where their name was changed upon docking, stripping them of their identity and respect. But they persevered, learned the English language, joined the U.S. Army, took a job, raised a family, made a life. And we, that family, are testament that the journey was well worth the trip.
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