Replies

I got these two articles in my email. I thought they were both good. Excerpted. First Seth Keshel.

https://skeshel.substack.com/p/meeting-commander-price-may-change

Meeting Commander Price May Change Your Life
Topic: Perspective

CAPT. SETH KESHEL

Those who have followed my work have certainly read my stories about my father, the late Lieutenant Colonel (Ret., USA) Donald Keshel. We said goodbye when he was dying; I went to Afghanistan, and he fought pancreatic cancer. While I was able to take emergency leave and attend his memorial immediately after his death in September 2010, his interment at Arlington National Cemetery would be delayed for four months, until January 2011. Unfortunately, my deployment prevented me from being part of that ceremony.

To atone for my absence, I try to visit Dad as often as possible. I always keep it together after I take that left off Eisenhower Drive onto York Drive on the way to the columbarium that holds not only his remains, but those of many other heroes and their loved ones who have left us. I always have few words with God, and with Dad. I stand up, salute his marker, and make the walk back out. The round trip is probably less than two miles, but seems like twenty, and maybe longer depending on how much sun is out. I always lose it on the way back, as if Dad went home to heaven last week instead of almost thirteen years ago. I now realize I was never able to properly grieve my father because my mind was focused on defeating the enemy.

On my last visit, just last month, I admired the grounds like I always do, which helps distract from the sadness I feel from saying goodbye to Dad. Despite all the carnage in America, our parks are still beautiful and immaculate, especially the hallowed ground of Arlington. Great, historical heroes are buried on these grounds, and so are heroes history does not remember so well. On the way back from the columbarium, just past Marshall Drive, I noticed the headstone of Lieutenant Commander Jason Michael Price, United States Navy. He came into this world on August 20, 1979, a Monday, and left this world on September 29, 2020, a Tuesday.

In preparing to write this brief piece, I was unable to find anything on Commander Price. All I know about him is what his headstone tells me, all the way down to his Catholic faith symbolized on his marker. This officer is one of countless thousands of names history may never know, but who was known to some as a son or friend, or perhaps a brother, husband, or father. I don’t even know how Commander Price died at the age of 41, which lies just three more trips around the sun for me.

Why am I making such a big deal about this headstone? Because this commander, or perhaps his family if his death was unexpected, remembered something that mattered a lot to him:

Nothing Great Comes From Comfort Zones

This quote takes up the lower third of his stone and sent a chill up my spine. How true is it, in a world that seeks comfort, that we are losing everything because so many people are too afraid to lose anything? We do not get to keep the things that we amass here on this Earth. Our wealth will one day be spread to others who did not work for it, our cars and trucks will become coat hangers, and the very homes we live in may one day be plowed under to make room for new development.

[More at link]

Next one:

https://tulsi.substack.com/p/the-final-salute

The Final Salute
How we can honor those who paid the ultimate price this Memorial Day, and ensure their sacrifice was not made in vain

TULSI GABBARD
MAY 29, 2023

Memorial Day is always a tough day. While the ads and signs say “Happy Memorial Day!” - for many of us who serve or have served, it’s not a happy day. It’s a day to remember our friends who are no longer with us. It’s a day where we think of our last memories with our friends who were killed in combat, thoughts of the loved ones they left behind, and reflection on the selfless sacrifice they made in service to our country.

In 2005, I was deployed to Iraq where I served in a medical unit. Every single day I was confronted with this high human cost of war.

We remember the day that we celebrated their lives, going through the final roll call, and deafening silence when their name was called with no response. We gave them one final salute to their empty boots, helmet, and rifle.

As we gather at cemeteries and memorials all across the country where our heroes have been laid to rest, we are reminded of the very real, high cost of war, and who pays that price — never forgetting our brothers and sisters who still serve in harm’s way today.

That cost seen in the names on gravestones that we adorn with lei and American flags. The memories of our friends live on our hearts.

So nothing angers me more than to see the hypocrisy every Memorial Day coming from warmongering politicians and media “pundits” who feign respect, gratitude, and empathy for those who paid the ultimate price in service to our country, while simultaneously advocating for more military adventurism, the new Cold War and nuclear arms race.

They don’t seem to understand, appreciate or care about who pays the price for these unnecessary costly wars. They carelessly throw around possible numbers of casualties without recognizing every one of those ‘numbers is a person, one of our fellow Americans — someone’s son or daughter, husband or wife, mom or dad.

They don’t know what it’s like to say goodbye to your family and loved ones, giving them one last hug and kiss goodbye, knowing that it could your last.

They don’t know the anxiety that these families live with every single day, every hour and minute, when their loved ones are serving abroad, praying for their safe return and dreading that phone call or knock at the door that could forever turn their world upside-down.

During my first deployment to Iraq, I didn’t fully understand or appreciate the stress that my family went through. I was focused on my mission and doing my job. It wasn’t until I came home that it truly hit me.

The plane landed at Hickam Air Force base in the dark pre-dawn hours. We stepped off the plane and walked down the steps to the tarmac, feeling the sweet Hawaii trade wind breezes, as the sky began to turn a beautiful array of pinks and oranges. It was so good to be home. We had our last formation, and the general called out, “Dismissed!” - releasing us after what had been a very long eighteen-month deployment. I ran toward my family, and into the arms of my dad first. As we held each other tight, my dad cried. I had never seen him cry before. It was at that moment that the weight of my service on their hearts became clear.

The way to honor our troops who sacrificed their lives for our country is to prevent unnecessary, costly wars which will result in the deaths of many more of our brothers and sisters in uniform.

[More at link]