Am I Worth It?

Dear Lord,

Lest I continue my complacent way,

Help me to remember that somehow out there,

A man died for me today.

As long as there be war,

I then must ask and answer:

Am I worth dying for?

--Eleanor Roosevelt

Kept in her wallet during World War II

Copyright © 2018

By Ralph F. Couey

In the history of the United States, there have been times when unfortunately we were forced in undertake war as the last means of defense. When that has happened, our young men and women have courageously stepped forward to serve, many of whom paid the ultimate sacrifice. We have erected monuments to honor them, both the living and the dead not only here, but around the world. It is an established fact that no nation on earth has sacrificed so much of it’s own blood in defense of other people’s freedom.

After decades of benign neglect, it has become fashionable to honor them in other ways. Uniforms that in the not so distant past produced contempt now inspire respect and admiration. The pendulum of that respect has swung fully back from the Vietnam era, and that is a good thing. Serving in the military has never been an easy job, even in peace time. The work is hard, the stress high, the hours seemingly unending, and the responsibilities daunting. And there is the risk to life and limb as well. If one stops to consider all those things, it can be amazing that there are those out there who are willing to enlist at all. There are plenty of inducements offered to enlistees, but when they’re asked, almost all of them will tell you, quite honestly, that the reason they do what they do is that they love America.

That sets them apart immediately from the rank of file of citizenry. Civilians spend a lot of time beefing about their problems, and blaming their situations on their country, mostly I suspect because they feel that they should be getting much more free stuff. Those attitudes are an anathema to servicemembers, a contempt that goes back a long time. In 1863, President Lincoln issued a new call for draftees to fill the depleted ranks of the Union army. In New York City, people, mostly Irish, rebelled in a three-day episode of death and destruction that has been called the Draft Riots. To quell the violence, the government pulled a brigade of Union soldiers out of the bloodbath at Gettysburg and sent them to the city. When presented on arrival with a crowd of civilians refusing to serve, the soldiers, probably with the memories of the regiment’s dead in mind, opened fire on the rioters. The riot ended within hours.

That’s not going to happen now. Soldiers understand that part of their responsibility is to defend cowards as well as the staunch. That acceptance extends into the public safety sector as well. In Dallas one night a few years ago, people took to the streets to march in protest to what they perceive as maltreatment by police. In the midst of that protest, a terrorist opened fire. In many acts of selfless courage, the police without hesitation placed themselves between the shooter and those who had just been heaping insults upon them.

These days, we take time to honor our heroes, mostly on the obvious holidays, Memorial Day and Veterans Day, also for some on July 4th. That honor takes many forms, parades, concerts, ceremonies, and individuals who take the time to personally thank them for their service. But I think there is a far better way to honor that service and sacrifice.

The best monument to those who have gone before, are those who go on ahead. For parents, there is no greater honor for them than to see their children successful in their chosen fields. The pride that is there is matched almost equally by the guilt that occurs when the kids live out the consequence of their stubborn mistakes. But in regards to our veterans, past and present, the best way to honor them is the way in which we live our lives. The poem at the beginning of this post was carried by First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt in her wallet throughout World War II. It was a daily reminder to her that the price of her freedom had been paid by some unknown and unnamed man in a uniform somewhere in the broad reach of geography that embraced the combat theaters of the war. The poem begs a question that spans the decades. Has the way I’ve lived my life honored their sacrifice?

This is no small question. Asking it of ourselves forces us to embrace the larger world beyond the selfish little boxes in which we tend to live. We then look honestly and critically at our lives through the lens of that sacrificial standard. For many, it’s not a comfortable view. We have to acknowledge that the things we take for granted have not been awarded free of charge. Our constitutional rights, embodied by the Bill of Rights and all the subsequent amendments are guaranteed, but at the cost of someone’s life. I think when we exercise those rights, we need to stop for a moment and send a silent thanks to the unknown and unnamed who gave their lives so that we can continue to enjoy those freedoms.

It is easy to take things for granted, when never exposed to situations where those things are not present. I’ve spent time in Africa, and that experience gifted me the appreciation for everything I have, and the perspective that those in the United States who complain about being poor really don’t know what real poverty truly is. I have been in other countries where the rights we accept in the same way we expect there to be air to breathe every day have been lost to despotic governments who keep their people in poverty and hunger so that they will never have the energy to oppose them. When I tell some people of that, they look at me as if I were deranged. The truth is that nobody will understand and appreciate what they have until they personally witness happens in that absence.

Our country is presently in the throes of one of the most angry and divisive moments in our history. Opinions range from the radical left to the reactionary right with a disquieting number of those who frankly don’t care one way or another scattered across that ideological landscape. I understand that these differences have to be worked out; that at some point some of those who are at war with each other are going to have to modify, if not change their minds. But as we fight on that battlefield of ideas, let us remember that we would not have the freedom and ability to conduct this often bloody debate unless someone unknown to us in some distant part of the world gave up their life.

If we truly want to honor our veterans and heroes, than we must strive to make our nation and our lives something that a stranger in uniform would find worthy to die for.