[Denizen Commentary - Kat]
"Thank you!" to all our veterans, past and present. They are the rock on which we stand. They were the hammer and the anvil, the sword and the shield. They were the lightening when we needed to strike and the shelter in raging storms. God grant that we should continue to have such men and women in the future should the times require it. They have shining examples in all those who have served before.
Last night, I went to a showing at the Nelson Atkins Museum in Kansas City. They have an exhibit of photographs from the Civil War period. Some I had seen many times in history books. Others I had not seen before. There were many that look like our photos today: soldiers going about the daily business of preparation, cooking, sewing and relaxing with their comrades.
Somethings never change.
Afterwards, at a restaurant on the Plaza, I drank coffee and chatted with a fellow Angel. A man in dress army blues and a woman in a cocktail dress came out on the patio. He was a sergeant and he had only three ribbons on his jacket, though I know he could probably wear many more. They were his GWOT, Iraq Campaign and a Bronze Star along with an expert marksmen badge and his CIB.
I always have an Angel Coin or two tucked in the purse with some "thank you" cards. So, after they were seated, I got some items together and prepared to go over. I was a bit hesitant at first because the couple seemed to be having a romantic evening out. They kept holding hands and talking to each other quietly. Fortunately, her cell phone rang so I decided to take the opportunity to hand over the challenge coin and card.
I palmed the coin, held out my hand and introduced myself as I handed him the "Thank You For Your Service" card with my other hand. When he shook my hand and felt the cold metal touch his palm, he hesitated for a moment. I gripped his hand tighter around the coin.
As it warmed between our palms, I said, "Thank you for your service, Sgt..." I couldn't see his name tag in the dark. He gripped my hand tighter and said, "Wayne...just 'Wayne' and this is my wife Kim." I would have shook her hand, too, but now he wouldn't let go of my hand.
I continued, "We support our deployed troops. If you go back or have friends that are still there, please contact us." He gripped my hand again and said, "Thank you." I told them to have a nice evening together. The way they were leaning in close to each other the whole time, I figure he'd just came back and I should make myself scarce.
I was putting my coat on a few minutes later, preparing to leave when three young women walked up to the sergeant's table. On noting his uniform, one asked, "Were you at the Marine Corps Ball?" I could hear the humor in his voice when he replied, "No. This is Army dress...I'm in the Army."
The young woman, about 21 I'd say, was a little chagrined and apologized for her mistake. Then she said, "Still, thats great that you're serving our country."
Serving OUR country. OUR country. It's still "OURS" after everything and our veterans are "OURS". While the coin and thank you card might have made the sergeant's night a little nicer, hearing that young woman say "our country" made mine. That's the way it's supposed to be.
We're still connected, even after all the complaints, the angst and the general feeling that we're somehow separated, from each other and from those who serve.
We're still connected.
We're still trying to raise the funds necessary to honor our wounded veterans by giving them the means to reconnect and stay connected to their friends, family and the outside world while they are locked in the long process of recovery at facilities around the country. In many ways, these facilities are some of the toughest postings for our injured troops. Even on a base in the middle of nowhere Iraq or Afghanistan, they are still with people they consider friends and family; sharing risks, sharing dreams and the one desire that all men and women posted so far away always hold: the day they come home.
Even when they are extended, they still know a set time that they will return. They know the expected outcome. They know a general date. They can share that time and expectations with those they went to war with and those they will return to. They have something to look forward to and a dream to reconnect to.
In a hospital, with severe injuries to arms, hands, fingers and the brain, our wounded veterans.don't know the outcome. They don't know when they'll be home. Though surrounded by caregivers, sometimes a family member and other wounded, they are still isolated in their pain and struggle to return to some semblance of normalcy; to return to something close to "whole" both physically and mentally. They are isolated from us and many more that would give them support literally and in real time if they could reach them. But we can't physically reach them all.
They are trying to set goals when they don't know when it will end or how. When they went into the hospital they were still part of a great big family of the military. When they leave, many know that they will again be separated and isolated from that previous life.
Sometimes, that isolation and unknowing can be a hindrance to recovery. It destroys morale. It is a burden they cannot put down for the remainder of their stay, for their time in recovery and sometimes long after.
We can lighten that burden, even if we are far away. We can reconnect them to the outside world. We can reconnect them to their friends and family. We can give them something to look forward to. We can help bring them "all the way home".
Everyone has put up their challenges this week and pointed out some great auction items for bidding to support this project. I don't have anything to auction, but I do have a lot of pictures that show what it means to be "connected" from the past year of providing support for our troops. No one asked me to give that support. It was simply the right thing to do.
On the 11th hour of the 11th Day of the 11th month in 1918, an armistice was signed to end the "Great War". Millions of young men returned home to parades and thanks giving for their service to the nation. We don't have many parades anymore and many a young man and woman comes home to nothing more than a few family members and a strange feeling that they do not belong.
Today, I believe it is appropriate to offer the 11, 11, 11 challenge. Today, every person that reads this blog is challenged to donate $11 dollars (or a higher amount in increments of $11 or ending in "11"). Even if you've given before for the project or several times, on this day, in remembrance of all those who have and still serve, please consider giving this small dedication to that sacrifice and all those that came after.
Send your $11 to Project Valour IT and help us remind our wounded that they do belong, they are not alone. It's "our" country and they are and always will be "ours".
Now for some pictures and video in flash traffic to remind you what that support really means.
(If you don't want to hear me sing again, you'll donate. And remember, your donation not only serves our injured troops, it might even save a dog or two ;) )
Now this is how to "welcome home" a vet:
More photos to follow...
Check out these photos of our support efforts. Many stories to go with them.
I'll never forget the Marine, recently returned after being wounded, that we met at a donation drive. He thanked us over and over again for supporting his "buddies" that were still "over there" when he couldn't be with them. I still recall how he didn't want to leave us and kept talking and talking. We enjoyed every minute.
This is Soldiers' Angels and the Patriot Guard doing a Send Off for the 35ID to Bosnia. We went there to thank them for their service and tell them they had our support. Instead, we received a standing ovation for our continuing efforts to support our troops, no matter the time, no matter the place, no matter the mission.
We walked for 1.7 miles in Belton, MO with army reserve and recruiters. One gentleman was a veteran of the Gulf War. These guys were great fun and begged us to stop by their booth later. One recruiter told a story of a young woman who came into his office and signed up. She wanted the closest combat MOS she could get. She wanted to be a warrant officer flying helicopters. Only two months after training was completed, she was sent to Iraq. She wrote him and told him she was shocked the orders came so soon, but she was happy because she was right where she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do.
After the parade and before everyone broke up, the troops gave us an opportunity to film a little "Hoo-ah" video to help generate support:
