Seasons of Change

As colder weather rolls into Michigan, I am reminded how much I dislike it. But it occurs to me that I haven’t always disliked it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I used to love playing in the snow and staying out in the cold until my extremities were numb and snotsicles bridged the gap between my nostrils and upper lip.  And it wasn’t too long ago that I remember poking fun at my dad and other ‘old people’ because of their intolerance of the cold and propensity to leave us all behind as they fled south for months at a time.  Deep down I’m sure it was just envy…for not having the freedom myself to disappear to the land of milk and honey (or is it Geritol and ginger-ale?) for months at a time.  And although I don’t see him nearly as often as I should in the months he’s nearby, the bigger reason for my deflections-disguised-as-harassment-about-the-weather is simply that I miss him while he’s so far away.  Perhaps a little reluctant to admit I am starting share his disdain for the cold, too.

It’s true…as if right on schedule to reinforce the irony of it all, I am finding the older I get, the less I care for the cold.  And the more I’m saddened to say that I, too, may soon appreciate the simplicity of Velcro shoes and the golf cart as a primary mode of transit.  So as I try to do in other areas of my life (at least better than I used to), I am taking a hard look at why I have done things, why I do things, or why I feel the way I do about certain things.  Nature’s changing season is just the latest timely reminder of my own changing nature.

In the Midwest, the thick heat of summer gives way to the crispness of autumn air.  It blesses us with the splendor of colorful leaves, tastes of cider, and the smell of pumpkin spice.  Another blessing of this change in season is the transition itself.  Not only does the transition prepare the environment for the harshness of winter, it similarly prepares us by moving our bodies from dramatic heat to bitter cold by gradual acclimation as we pass through a milder autumn.

So what’s the problem?  With that reasoning I should have no problem acclimating to the biting wind, cold, snow, and other extremes of winter.  I think one the things it boils down to is preparation; wearing the right clothes the right way, having the right equipment and resources, and having the right attitude.  I have concluded that when facing extremes – whether in life, temporary circumstances, or environment – an increase in discomfort often involves a decrease in (or lack of) preparation.

Consider this.  If you grew up in a ‘four-season’ part of the world, you probably had a mom, dad, grandparent or other adult who bundled you up like the Michelin Man before going out in the cold, making you virtually impervious to the elements.  I remember everything from the mittens attached by a string running from one sleeve to another, to wearing bread bags on my feet inside my boots to keep my feet toasty and dry (personally I think my mom was conducting some early study in the greenhouse effect with those bags).  But those things worked.  Buttoned up, zipped up, no exposed skin.  Hats, mittens, scarfs, the right coat, pants, socks, boots, and long underwear.  You could stay out for hours and not be bothered by the coldest of days.  Even now, when I actually wear appropriate clothing and accessories for the conditions, the weather really doesn’t bother me so much.

The problem is I usually don’t.  I don’t prepare properly.  I don’t wear the nice warm stocking cap because it will mess up my hair.  I don’t wear the thick socks and warm boots because they’re cumbersome, uncomfortable, and it’s just a pain to change into other shoes when I get to my destination.  I seldom wear gloves, scarf, or even zip my coat up.  Is it any wonder I have started to dislike cold weather?  I should either dress for the weather or stop complaining about it.  And while I think there are a few other lessons we can take from this, I want to keep this at a reasonable length, respecting your time and attention.  So with the assurance to continue this subject in a second part soon to come, let me wrap up with these points.

In the same way the changing seasons prepare us for more extreme conditions yet to come, and properly outfitting ourselves prepares us for the extreme conditions we venture out into, properly preparing ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically, and socially can help us through some of the extreme conditions of life.

Until the next edition, prepare for the changing season by bundling up, wrapping up, zipping up, breaking out your bread bags, and above all never forgetting how much fun it was to be a child.  Keep that youthful spirit alive!

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven (Ecclesiastes 3.1)

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong.

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Dave E.

Strength that Stands

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Stand fast is defined, in part, as to firmly remain in the same position or cease all action immediately.  I’ve heard it widely used in military life in a few contexts, the most common to me of waiting to move after a preparatory command was already given…sometimes seemingly as if to test the formation to see who’s going to be the one to flinch: “Flight, Attention!  Forward…Stand Fast!”  You don’t want to be the one who false starts and then fumbles around trying to reset as if no one noticed the ONLY body cavorting around in a sea of stalwarts.

For this article, the standing fast to which I refer is similar, but more akin to standing firm…in strength, power, resoluteness, faith; the kind of strength to carry on when it would be easier to just roll over.  It’s the kind of strength that when the whole world or the gallery of so-called experts, know-it-alls, or haters (as today’s generation might call them) tells you to just give up and get out of the way, you stand firm and say “No, you move…I’m not giving up…I’m strong…I’m a survivor…I’m a conqueror.”  Standing firm in this way takes a different kind of strength than we typically think of.

A recent quiet time illustrated two divergent types of strength – active and passive – that might help clarify my point.  As I thought through the author’s analogies and applied them to my own life, I began to appreciate the need for each at different times in our lives.  The author, Harold Cooke Phillips, said it better than I ever could, so I’ll let him handle this.

“Sometimes nothing is harder in life than just to endure.  There are two types of of strength.  There is the strength of the wind that sways the mighty oak, and there is the strength of the oak that withstands the power of the wind.  There is the strength of the locomotive that pulls the heavy train across the bridge, and there is the strength of the bridge that holds up the weight of the train.  One is active strength, the other is passive strength; one is the power to keep going, the other is the power to keep still; one the strength by which we overcome, the other is the strength by which we endure.”

Sixteen years ago, a healthy, active 13 year old attended his local county fair to watch the motocross races.  He left the fair in a helicopter, critically injured, unconscious, with a depressed skull fracture and his life would never be the same.

This young man is one of my nephews.  He and another spectator were struck by an out-of-control cycle that left the track.  When my dad’s call woke me in the middle of that July night and he told me what happened, he said things ‘didn’t look good’.  My nephew remained critical and comatose for weeks.  He was ultimately transferred to a renowned rehabilitation hospital where he eventually regained consciousness.

Through faith, prayers, amazing staff, rigorous physical and speech therapy, and his incredible resilience, he finally started to look at people, move his lips, and comprehend things again. He gradually improved, spending many months in a wheelchair, followed by a walker (neither of which he uses today).  Through God’s amazing healing power, tremendous medical care, his incredible strength, and the loving support of many, he eventually went home.  In June 2007, my nephew graduated with honors from high school and later from Michigan Career & Technical Institute.

The damage his brain suffered from the injury had lasting effects on his speech and his right extremities, but that doesn’t slow him down.  He’s a husband and father, and is as fun-loving and quick-witted as ever.  He is strong, hard-working, and an inspiration to me and many others because of the person he is and the example he sets with his huge smile and easy-going disposition.  Every chance he gets, he goes out of his way to text, call, or visit with friends and family.  While it was tough early on to see the impact this had on him and his family, I am so proud of the man he has become.  Some of the things I truly enjoy in life are the rare occasions to lock arms with him to help navigate a set of stairs or other challenging terrain, and being the recipient of the smiles, hugs,  and “I love you”s that he unashamedly doles out…the way more of us should.

My nephew’s life has been a case study in both the strength to endure and the strength to overcome mentioned above.  He continues to be one of the strongest people I know.

“The physical strength of a person must always be added to the strength of his or her soul and power for marshaling the resources of truth, righteousness, and love.” – J. Richard Spann

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong.

It is my honor to dedicate this article during National Disability Employment Awareness Month to him and all those who stand strong and persevere through their disabilities, setting an example for us all.

https://www.dol.gov/odep/topics/ndeam/index-2018.htm

Hunsberger, E. & Nygaard, N. (2002). Strength for service: daily devotional messages for those in the service of others updated edition. Franklin, TN: Providence House.

Actions and Reactions

I’ve heard you can tell a lot about a person by playing a round of golf with them.  Besides the number of ‘Mulligans’ they take when they think no one is looking (think Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack), the corresponding increase in profanity, bent clubs, and diminishing disposition as the strokes add up are pretty telling.

The fact is, we don’t always react the way we would like to in each situation.

Have YOU ever been disappointed with yourself after reacting poorly or uncharacteristically to a situation?  Perhaps something caught you completely off-guard or you were already on ‘your last nerve’ stressing about work, politics, or other disappointments in your life.  Let’s be honest here…when was the last time you waved at someone in traffic using just your tall finger because they were driving like a jackass?  How dare they ride your bumper or spike their brakes (perhaps because you were riding theirs?).  Don’t they know you’re in a hurry?  Don’t they know who you are?

What about blowing up at one of your kids or a co-worker in absolute overreaction when they asked an innocent question or simply did something harmless at the wrong time?

I think I’ve made commendable progress in my reactions over the last few years, but I still have plenty of moments.  I admire those people who are perpetually easy-going and seemingly unflappable.  Cool as a cucumber.  It bothers me a little that I maintain composure in chaos and excel in stressful or challenging situations, yet I can fly off the handle in response to ridiculously unimportant events and minor infractions.

I don’t know if negative reactions are rooted in a sense of entitlement, a quest for justice, simple anger, or a combination, but I do know it’s been an issue throughout history.  The Bible provides many warnings against lashing out in anger.  One such admonishment tells us not to repay evil for evil; to live peaceably; not to avenge ourselves, but to give place to wrath (Romans 12.17-19).  Another reminds us to be swift to hear, slow to speak, and slow to wrath (James 1.19).

One of the lessons I remember most about actions and reactions came during a hockey game while playing in a men’s league several years ago.  It wasn’t the typical scenario you might think…everyone knows who invariably gets the attention of the referee (and the penalty) in sports like hockey: it’s the person who retaliates!

My lesson didn’t come from a penalty, although there should have been one called!  It came in the form of a cheap shot, a payback, my reaction, and the lesson in humility that followed.

The cheap shot: I was skating along minding my own business, trying to be where a Winger should be on the ice.  It had been a long time since pond hockey, but I was average at best and still fairly proficient at checking myself into the boards and tripping over the blue line.  It was a league where some just wanted to have fun and others thought they should be getting paid.  This was never clearer to me than when I went careening to the ice following a blindside cheap shot.  I was angry and embarrassed, but elected not to come up swinging.  A small (and short-lived) victory.

A payback: I skated with some great players; former Junior hockey and NCAA types.  One of them had the kind of slap shot I envy…one that travels with such velocity it keeps rising until it hits the net, or something else in its path.  On this night that something happened to be Mr. Cheap Shot.  I doubt it was coincidence that my friend unleashed his wicked slap shot in perfect synchronicity to dickweed’s path of travel.  It was a thing of beauty, striking center mass.  The impact was so powerful it doubled him over with a loud gasp and caused his abrupt return to the bench in a crumpled heap.

My reaction:  Having been the recipient of a slap shot or two, I was aware the pain he was in.  Yet being the small man that I was, I didn’t pass up the chance to skate by him en route to his bench and smugly ask, in top passive-aggressive form, “How’d that feel?”.  Not my best moment.  Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt bad.  But not that bad.

The lesson:  I’m pretty sure we won.  In fact, I think it was a playoff game and I had even scored one of the few goals of my lackluster career.  I should have felt good.  As I drove home, a late-night radio evangelist was on and I’ll give you one guess what his topic was.  You guessed it…actions versus reactions.  Coincidence?  More like providence.  I was quickly humbled and reminded that it’s often my REACTIONS rather than my actions that cause me the most trouble.  My reaction was petty and disappointing.  Instead of humbling myself and reaching out in compassion to a fellow human being in pain, I chose to take paltry satisfaction in his pain because he embarrassed me.  But it shouldn’t matter what he had done.  Those were HIS actions, and I don’t have control of those.  But I do have control of mine.

I allowed my reaction to override the much more important action I should have taken…that of turning the other cheek (see Matthew 5.38-40).

Here’s a few more ideas that might help us react differently.

  1. Count to 10 before reacting
  2. Be humble
  3. Be merciful
  4. Be gracious
  5. Be gentle
  6. Be courteous
  7. Conduct yourself with a healthy amount of propriety
  8. Ask yourself if this is really going to matter five years from now

Next time you’re tempted to react out of anger or in a manner you’ll soon regret, remember the lesson of a 3-inch, 6 oz. hard rubber disc traveling around 100 mph.  In moments you feel like you’re under attack, try extending kindness, love, and understanding instead of setting up a hasty defense.

You might be pleasantly surprised with being pleasant.

 

The Character of Leadership

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I’ve had a number of people ask if my recent retirement speech was recorded.  To my knowledge it was not.  For this post, I’m sharing the text from which I spoke.

DISCLAIMER: What follows may not contain everything that was said, nor was everything written here necessarily shared during the live recitation.  Also please note this is slightly longer than I prefer for posting on this blog.  However, I hope you’ll find it worth the extra few minutes to read.

Military retirement speech delivered August 4, 2018 at Battle Creek, Michigan:

When I was young I wanted to be a radio broadcaster like my dad. But after coming to terms with the realization that I look and sound like Howdy Doody, I figured a career in the profession of arms was the next best thing.

I’ve been very blessed over a career that started in 1986. I can tell you honestly that despite some missteps here and there, I always tried to be the very best leader I could be, trying never to forget who I was or where I came from…whether as an M-60 machine gunner; as a fire-team or squad leader; or ‘the enlisted leader’ of 2300 or so Airmen.

During my career(s), I’ve seen and done things many people will never have the opportunity to see or do. Quite frankly, some things no one should see or do.  The thing is, when you spend your entire career solving other people’s problems, you tend to ignore your own. And unlike wine or cheese, problems don’t get better with age.

So despite reaching heights I never imagined as an Airman and leader, I’ll tell you honestly that I have not always been the man I should have been. I’m a living example that a person can be quite successful in their life and career, yet still be plagued by unresolved issues or personal demons living in the shadows of their soul.  If you knew even half of the dumb things I have done, there’d be about three people in the audience right now.

But I’m glad you’re here to help celebrate my military retirement.  And since you ARE here, I’d like to share share some things about a few leaders I’ve known who made a difference in my life & career.

In 1987, and again in 1989, I was selected to compete on the security police team in Strategic Air Command’s Combat Weapons Loading competition ‘Giant Sword’.  I’m not going to lie…it was a pretty big deal.  And to be picked twice was ‘off the hook’ as the kids say.  Do the kids still say that?

After the 1987 competition in Spokane, Washington, I was chosen to toast the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force (CMSAF) because I was the lowest ranking person at the table…maybe the whole room.   I was a nervous, skinny 20 year old kid trying to speak in a room of about 500 people, with no microphone.  I was shaking; my voice was quivering.  I felt like a fool. I sat down relieved it was over. A few minutes later, one of the servers came over and handed me a note. It was from CMSAF James Binnicker, the man I had just toasted. If you haven’t figured it out, he was kind of a big deal! The note read “Thanks for the toast, Airman! By the way, your fly is down.”  As far as I remember my fly wasn’t down, but he knew I needed to be encouraged. His actions and words revealed the character of his leadership.

Fast forward to 1989. I was the top graduate from NCO prep course; I had been chosen as Airman of the month and of the quarter; I was promoted ahead of my peers (below-the-zone); I had been kicking a**… I mean, I was doing really well on all my job qualification testing.  I was on a pretty incredible run for a couple of years, and in case you haven’t figured this out yet, I was kind of a big deal!

So there I am one day somewhere in between all this, leaning against the shack of my assigned flight-line gate when a patrol car rolls up.  It’s driven by a NCO I recognized, but he wasn’t in my chain of command and he never impressed me much, anyway.  Maybe he hadn’t heard, but I was kind of a big deal.  My grandma would have said I was a little too big for my britches…and she’d have been right.

I peeled myself from he side of the shack and sauntered over to his patrol car wearing my best pair of Army gloves (I had my hands in pockets). One DOES NOT do this as a Security Forces Defender. Ever.  Especially on post.  I casually, borderline disrespectfully, ask “Hey what’s up?”, to which he asks “Why don’t you go over to the other side of the car and ask that?”

I peered through the window as I walked around the back of the car and saw the passenger was Chief Master Sergeant Rochelle. A feared man from Little Rock, Arkansas, Rochelle literally WAS a big deal.  I reached his door, snapped to attention, and delivered the requisite reporting statement…”Sir, Airman Eddy reports post Foxtrot Two all secure. Would you like a post briefing?”  The chief stared through me and replied ”I was actually stopping to tell you what a great job you’ve been doing lately, but I think I’ll hold off on that for now.” They drove off and left me standing alone at the position of attention in a cloud of dust. I was mortified…what an idiot I was.

A week or so later Chief Rochelle came through my entry control point in the weapon storage area. I again snapped to attention and reported my post: “Sir, Airman Eddy reports ECP Whiskey Three all secure, would you like a post briefing…?”  I apologized for my miscue during his last encounter with me. He said all kinds of nice things about me and left with “…you’re going to be Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force someday.”

He knew I needed to be encouraged. His words and actions showed me the character of his leadership.

I left active duty after four years to pursue a career in civilian law enforcement and moved back to Michigan with a pregnant wife and no job. Not one of my wiser life decisions, but we made it work by living in my in-laws’ basement and the generosity of my friend giving me a job driving a grain truck to help with the harvest. I also joined the Air National Guard at this very base.

I worked hard, offered what I could, learned a lot, and ended up in a place I thought I could compete for Wing Command Chief (CCM). I was the only applicant, but ultimately wasn’t selected. I was pretty devastated. Not long after, Chief John Kemp, a former Wing CCM and long-time friend and mentor, stopped in my office and laid a set of his own CCM stripes on my desk.  He looked me in the eyes and said “Don’t give up…it will happen when it’s time.”

Chief Kemp knew I needed to be encouraged. His words and actions showed me the character of his leadership.

Each of those men essentially told me what I understand Bill Parcells said to Tony Romo after he botched the snap on a field goal attempt that would have sent the Dallas Cowboys to the next round of the 2007 playoffs: “Don’t let the fumble define you.”

Romo needed to be encouraged. Parcells’ words and actions showed the character of his leadership.

I never became CMSAF.  But I did become enlisted leader at a level I never imagined possible.  And my time directing the Air National Guard Chief’s Executive Course (E9 orientation) in Washington, DC provided many chances to visit his office in the Pentagon.  I may have even partied on his front lawn at Andrews Air Force Base a few times.  So, yeah…

I had a pastor that used to say “Being a Christian isn’t easy, it’s impossible!  We can’t do it on our own…that’s why we need a savior.”  I feel the same way about life and leadership.  It’s NOT easy. In fact, it’s impossible unless you’re surrounded by great people, great friends, and great family. People who support you no matter what; people who don’t love and support you because of who you are…they love and support you in spite of who you are.  They are also willing to tell you what you need to hear. They are people who care about you and love you unconditionally. I’ve been blessed with many people like that in my life and both careers – many who are here today.

I want to thank the staff and everyone who put this event together; dignitaries; special guests; childhood friends; coworkers; and all the rest of you who are here, despite knowing the real me.  And of course my family.

I’ve talked much longer than I should, but I want to just leave you a few final thoughts.

Former ANG Command Chief Gary Broadbent used to say that ‘everyone messes up, but those same people have done far more incredible things; don’t throw the baby out with the bath water…give them the chance to do more amazing things.’  We need to pick them up, dust them off, recognize their need for encouragement, and remind them the fumble is not what defines them.

A boyhood friend I haven’t seen in decades sent me this message on social media just a few days ago. As far as I know, he’s never served in the military, yet this is the insight he shared:

Congratulations. Thank you for your service.

It’s all cool when it’s pictures on FB and stuff.

Never forget the men and women you served and were deployed with. I am positive you impacted them with your leadership. Look for them at this celebration look them in the eye, shake their hands and give them a hug. Tell them how much they mean to you. There are probably many that you impacted that you weren’t even aware of. Make sure to thank them too.

I hope you future is filled with the laughter of children, loved filled challenge and the growth in love and knowledge of the Wonderful Savior!!

He gets it doesn’t he?

You’re going to think what you will about me. If it’s bad, I certainly deserve it. If it’s good, you’re really very sweet, but perhaps a little bit misguided.  I appreciate it nonetheless.

I am going to miss this and all of you. As far as I know, I still have a day job for a few more years, and I’ve started a Life, Leadership and Fitness website and blog you can follow if you’re interested in keeping up with what I’m doing in retirement.

But if you need a character-limited version to remember me by, use this: leader, follower, angel, sinner, gentlemen, wretch, needy, giving, broken, redeemed.

My good friend and retired ANG Command Chief Jim Hotaling used to say this, and I feel the same way: It has been my honor to serve with and help lead the greatest weapon system in the world – the American Airman!

I’m blessed and grateful you all chose to be here with me today, and I am a better man because you’re in my life.

I love you all. Thank you.

*Photos added for blog.  Some photos courtesy of Mr. Art Frith, USN (Ret.)

Defining Mistakes

I’ve heard that it is few the men who finish well.  I am certainly not one of those few.  I marked my last day in the military less than a week ago.  As I ease into this new reality, I find myself nostalgically reflecting on the highlights of my career and wistfully pondering some of the royal eff-ups and ‘what were you thinking?’ moments.  As I do, I’m faced with the reality that even though I always strove to do my best, give my all, and put others first, I also made plenty of mistakes.  Nonetheless, something that accounts for nearly two-thirds of my life is done.  As I grieve the things I’ll especially miss about military service, reverie will be my ration now.

In his book My American Journey, General Colin Powell wrote of his draw to the Pershing Rifles during ROTC as “…the discipline, the structure, the camaraderie, the sense of belonging…”  Recognizing the U.S. military as one of America’s greatest opportunities, he eventually ascended to highest military position in our armed forces – Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  I was a career enlisted guy, and while a non-commissioned officer can never be the chairman of the joint chiefs, many of us in the enlisted corps share the general’s affinity for those things that first attracted him to the Pershing Rifles and that likewise make the profession of arms a unique and honorable vocation.

Having had the privilege of serving at all levels of the enlisted force, from basic trainee to senior enlisted leader, I can say that structure, camaraderie, and sense of belonging General Powell spoke of are among the things I will miss most.  I already do.  With that in mind, I’d like to offer a few observations I believe relate to those merits of service quoted above that have leadership relevance within any organization, military or otherwise.

There are certain keystones to leadership that I believe some military leaders are particularly good at that should be embedded within the framework of any organization.  It begins and ends with truly caring about people.  It involves making sure every person understands where they fit into the organization, how important they are to the organization, and exactly how they contribute to the success of the organization.  It’s the leader’s job to do his or her absolute best to help each of them reach their full potential by ensuring they have the opportunities and resources necessary to be successful.  Had it not been for a few exceptional leaders ahead of me recognizing this and giving me opportunities and correction along the way, I’m not sure where I would have ended up.

One such leader taught me a long time ago that creating acronyms could help a simple-minded bloke like me remember things more easily.  In fact, I created this one as an outline for a talk and think it’s relevant here: L-T-S-R-B-R.  It stands for Leadership through Service, Respect, and Building Relationships.  You see, I not-so-uniquely believe excellence in leadership comes through relationships and service to others.  I believe real leadership is seen in how people treat others.  It involves treating others with dignity and respect; good communication; empowerment; and positive influence.

People need to know their leaders care both about the mission and about them, and that they are safe to make mistakes as they strive for greatness.  If you know someone in a position of authority who leaves a wake of destruction behind them everywhere they go, and they are more concerned with building an empire or advancing their own career than they are taking care of their people, that’s no leader.  In fact, that’s just a jerk.  My grandma would have said he’s gotten too big for his britches!  Using today’s vernacular, she might say it’s an example of the Peter Principle.  Still, I’m tempted to believe he was probably a jerk long before rising to his level of incompetence…

I believe true leaders are strong, courageous, humble, kind, committed, and compassionate.  Real leaders spend their time and energy finding ways to make others successful and equipping them to lead.  They genuinely care about people, and they own their mistakes.

I already miss serving.  I have considered it my privilege and honor to have followed and led some of the finest GIs in the profession of arms.  But I have not arrived.  Heck, I’m not even on final approach.  In the daily devotional Strength for Service, William H. Danforth quotes Coach Meehan of New York University as saying “We learn practically nothing from a victory.  All our information comes from a defeat.  A winner forgets most of his mistakes.”  I’ve learned much along the way from the many mistakes I’ve made, not the least of which is not to let them define who I am or what I represent.

Neither should you.

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong.

Hunsberger, E. & Nygaard, N. (2002). Strength for service: daily devotional messages for those in the service of others updated edition. Franklin, TN: Providence House.

Powell, C. L. & Perisco, J. (1995). My American journey.  New York, NY: Ballentine.

Fathers, Families, & Going Beyond

May 5, 1945

Dear Mom and Dad;

It’s been quite a while since I have been able to write.  We were committed for combat – when we secured our part of the island we had to go down and relieve the Army.

You will receive a notice from the War Dept. of my being wounded. Please don’t worry, as I am all right. I am not able to use my hands, so I am having a corpsman write this letter for me.

Your loving son,

John

P.S.

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Brady;

The above was written by me, as your son told me.  I am rather unaccustomed to doing this sort of thing, but somehow I feel that I must tell you a bit more than the blank, disheartening telegrams that Uncle Sam has already sent you.

As I sit here writing you, John is resting comfortably in a bed very close by.  Please know that he is getting the best care humanly possible, and that he is in no danger.

I know that it is quite foolish to ask you not to worry; you see I have a wife and little girl at home, waiting for me, and I do understand some of these things.  However, please take comfort and rest a little more easily, when I say that John is not too seriously injured, and that in all probability he will be home with you, perhaps sooner than you may think.

To be quite frank, and I hope you will forgive me if I am doing the wrong thing, John has been burned about the face, hands, arms and legs.  Perhaps that looks horrible in writing, but modern medicine and surgery will work wonders, and I know that John will be as good as new in a few months.

John is in very good spirits, not experiencing too much pain, and feeling at least up to “par”, so to speak.

I must close at this time, due to the fact that we have a few hundred more men, who have been injured, and they all need help.

Trusting that this finds you in good health, I remain

Very truly,

Edward D. Sears, Ph.M.2/c

U.S.S. Karnes, A.P.A #175,

c/o F.P.O. San Francisco.

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John Brady served in the 1st Marine Division, United States Marine Corps during World War II.  The reprinted letter above was authored over 70 years ago, likely aboard a hospital ship during Brady’s transport back to the west coast from the South Pacific.

He would spend most of a year in a Naval hospital.  He eventually returned to his family in Rhode Island, re-enrolled in the University of Rhode Island, and finished school.  After graduation he married and they raised a family of six children.  My good friend Mike Brady, a Connecticut high school teacher and retired USAF Command Chief Master Sergeant, is one of them.

Mike found this letter a few years ago after his mom’s passing.  Here’s what he wrote about it:

My Dad had visible scars from his wounds, but not to us.  He was our Dad.  What an amazing thing this corpsman did in writing to my Grandparents for my Dad.

We all have people in our lives that have made sacrifices to help us get where we are, may we all take a moment to appreciate these sacrifices and give thanks whenever possible.

Mike’s dad died in 1984.

It was timely that I came across this vignette, that Mike originally shared, while backing up some files at my soon-to-be old office.  As my military career comes to an end at the end of the month and Father’s Day still close in the rear-view mirror, it brought with it a host of emotions and thoughts of my own aging father.

And of my own shortcomings.

Thank you John Brady and Corpsman Sears.  And special thanks to Mike Brady for allowing me to share his dad’s story.

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong.

Triumph, Tragedy, and Strength

In the difficult times, it is what is in you that comes out of you. I wrote those words down as soon I heard Don Denyes say them a few months ago.  Then I promptly forgot them. That is until two days ago.

Two days ago, I attended a local high school graduation ceremony with a thousand or so others. High school graduations are always a bit poignant as we wish our children and their friends well, anticipating the great things they will do to make the world a better place. And perhaps as we reminisce a bit about our own graduation so many years ago…contemplating whether we upheld our end of the bargain in making a difference in the world.

This school and these graduating seniors have already triumphed greatly and will no doubt continue to do great things.  Four Salutatorians and six Valedictorians were poised to speak to their fellow classmates and the many friends and family members on hand…quite possibly the largest audience most of them will ever have the honor (or horror) of addressing. It was remarkable. But we were about to witness something even more remarkable.

The day before the ceremony, a Thursday, I ran into a friend coming out of the barbershop as I was walking in. Jon and I used to play softball together and his dad, a pastor, was a friend and helped me through some tough times.  Jon and I have a common friend with whom he now works.  We made small talk and chatted about a promotion I didn’t know he had gotten.  Everything seemed great. The next day I had lunch with our common friend and told him I’d seen Jon.  He asked if Jon was doing ok.  It seems Jon’s pastor had been tragically killed in an automobile crash just the day before our barbershop run-in.  My first question was whether it was his father.  I was relieved to discover it was not, but as is common for me – and concrete evidence of my attention deficit – I found myself wondering why Jon doesn’t attend his dad’s church?

Nevertheless, I was saddened to learn of the untimely death of this local pastor.  He was a well-known, well-loved, and well-respected local man of God, and the community collectively grieved as news of this tragedy spread across the area.

Back to the graduation. You see, one of the class Valedictorians happens to be the son of this pastor.  As I looked over the program and compared the lineup of speakers seated on stage waiting to take their turn, the order didn’t match.  I silently acknowledged to myself how difficult that would have been to participate in a public graduation ceremony just two days after the unexpected death of someone as close as a father or mother, and then symbolically excused him from being there in my mind with sympathetic understanding.  The pastor’s son was the only male Valedictorian, and according to the program would have been the fourth Valedictorian to speak, had this tragedy not befallen his family.  So it was that I then found myself wondering who the lone young man was seated at the end of the row of five female Valedictorians.  Was this someone not listed in the program set to receive unknown special recognition?  Or were my eyes simply deceiving me?  Maybe I had miscounted the remaining honorees, since they also had the Salutatorians seated in the same row.

No. The order had been changed.  I, along with over a thousand others in the concert auditorium, were about to witness one of the most inspiring things many people have probably ever experienced.  The final person to speak would be an incredible young man whose father unexpectedly died just two days earlier.

He did all the things a good public speaker is supposed to do. He stood tall. He made good eye contact. He captivated the audience. He was clear, concise, and delivered an oration that was moving and insightful.  I wept, with pride and anguish, as I expect many in attendance that evening did.  This remarkable young man calmly told us his father recently passed away.  He spoke of the honor and dignity with which his father lived.  He spoke unapologetically about the love of God, family, and community his father displayed and instilled in him as he grew.  He told us how his father, just days prior, was helping him with his speech and shared a verse with him.  He was no doubt preparing his son not only to reach those listening to his speech, but for a life of service beyond graduation.  Little did he know how profound this verse would be just days later… “Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”  Joshua 1:9 is a life-verse to many.  It is frequently quoted, memorized, shared on social media, scrawled in graffiti, and tattooed on people’s bodies as a reminder that even in the most difficult or challenging times, we can be strong and courageous because we are never alone.

The kind of strength we witnessed when a grieving, graduating high school Valedictorian chose to not only attend his graduation (when no one would blame him for not doing so), but to courageously deliver his speech and use that opportunity to reach others as a proxy of God’s glory is truly going beyond strength.  I want to be more like him.

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong

Lest We Forget…

“By this we know love, because he laid down his life for us.”  These are the words of the apostle John, written somewhere around A.D. 90.  John was referring to Jesus Christ in the first half of that verse, but he goes on in the second half of the same verse to say, “And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.” (1 John 3:16).  The next few verses of that passage then articulate what I consider some of the most insightful facts about love ever documented, the bottom line of which is this: genuine love ALWAYS results in action…not just sentimental words.  Memorial Day is a holiday through which we rightfully pause to remember the loving action of ultimate sacrifice by those defending freedom.

Since 1775, more than a million American service members have died in wars and conflicts to preserve the freedoms we hold dear, fighting for our independence.  They helped create the world we live in and paved the long road of democracy we continue walking today.  We all owe them our gratitude for the freedom to live, work, play, express our faith, and raise our families.  I’m especially mindful today of those thousands of brave sons and daughters who paid the ultimate sacrifice fighting our nation’s wars…who died while preserving our way of life.

These men and women were some of America’s best and brightest.  They gave their lives on the blood-soaked beaches of Normandy, in the jungles of the South Pacific, and over the skies of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan.  They fought and died on the icy slopes of the Korean Peninsula and in the rice paddies of Vietnam.  More recently, they have fought and fallen in the mountains of Afghanistan and in the deadly streets of Iraq.  Only those who have seen the horrors of war firsthand can ever truly know what these Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines may have gone through in their final moments.

“…I think of all those guys killed in action, wounded in action, and their friends, their relatives and all those altered lives.  How could I forget?  It’s not so much what we went through as it is knowing what the other guys went through.  They died dirty.  They died hot, hungry and exhausted.  They died thinking that their loved ones would never know how they died.”  Clinton Poley, 2nd Platoon, Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry in the Ia Drang – as written in Lt. Gen. Harold G. Moore’s book We Were Soldiers Once…And Young.

Even though the technology of war has changed dramatically since the American Civil War, the risks and suffering has not.  For brave Americans who bear that risk, no victory is free from sorrow.  This nation’s men and women fight proudly, but we likewise know the price and weigh the cost each time we see another flag-draped coffin carrying the remains of another fallen hero home.  I can tell you that having been there on the other end as some of those heroes began their journey back to the U.S., the loss is real…tangible…and tragic to those grieving, on both sides of the ocean.

It is humbling, and comforting, to realize that despite the known dangers, increased operations tempo, and unconventional enemy we now face, every member of the all-volunteer armed forces serving today has either enlisted or re-enlisted since September 11, 2001.  And as of 2013, more than half of those serving were seasoned combat veterans.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; – Shakespeare, Henry V, Act IV, Scene 3

Those who have known combat make me think of these words from the Man in the Arena portion of Theodore Roosevelt’s ‘Citizenship in a Republic’ speech: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasm, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

America’s military has defended her throughout history with courage and honor.  Our service members raised their right and swore an oath, knowing what they had to do and what that cost might be…the shedding of blood.  Perhaps their own.  They are humble servants, serving something greater than themselves.  Remember the fallen…today and every day.

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong.

If you have an extra few minutes, I encourage you to watch this video about Air Force Pararescueman William Pitsenbarger, killed in action in Vietnam, April 1966.  Video courtesy of the United States Air Force.  http://www.airman.af.mil/HeritageToday/videoid/492074/dvpcc/false/#DVIDSVideoPlayer33885

I also encourage you to learn more about the high price Americans have paid in service to the nation by exploring the following link: https://www.va.gov/opa/publications/factsheets/fs_americas_wars.pdf

In the interest of proper attribution, some portions of the text above are from speeches I gave the last few years at Memorial Day events, with some of that content originally derived from military Public Affairs Office talking points provided for consistent messaging by those speaking in an official capacity.

Man in the Arena quote retrieved from: http://www.theodore-roosevelt.com/trsorbonnespeech.html

Shakespeare quote retrieved from: http://shakespeare.mit.edu/henryv/henryv.4.3.html