Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Soldiers Home really looks like a soldiers home on Veterans Day, with giant American flags lining the entrance; uniformed Boy Scouts, single-file, pushing residents’ wheelchairs to the program; and a high-school Color Guard practicing its poignant march.
I took it all in and took a deep breath of gratitude for this place and these people, but my primary concern 90 minutes before the official Veterans Day program was one veteran in particular: I was worried about Mike. I made a beeline for his room, but I didn’t feel any better once I saw him, asleep in a twitchy little ball and not looking much like a man on his way to a ceremony.
I went to Activities to find paper for a Mike note, and was almost pathetically happy to find Gary there. I am always happy to see Gary, whom I admire beyond words, but today, at this exact moment, I think I kind of needed to see him. Things quickly improved: Gully brought me a cup of cheery hot chocolate, and then the even-cheerier Cal Bush joined us. I asked Gary and Cal whether I could please take just one picture of them, together. Gary made me promise I wouldn’t publish his, and it took me a few shots to get a really good one. “You said one,” Gary said. “I’m a woman,” I told him. “Changing my mind is my prerogative.”
Naturally, this reminded Cal of a story. “You be sure to listen to this one,” he told me: “A guy goes over to Sweden to get a sex-change operation. Afterwards, his friend asks whether it hurt. ‘Not too bad,’ the ex-guy said. ‘Except when they cut that hole in my head to take out half my brains.’" Cal and Gary got a good chuckle out of that one. I acted insulted (I might have actually said, “Har de har har”), but I am not a very good actor.
Gary wasn’t sure he was going to the program because he didn’t feel so well; Cal he knew he wasn’t, because his son was taking him to the Muckleshoot Casino. “Now that’s the way to honor your service,” I told him.
When I walked into Chilson Hall, Ray McDade was sitting smack in the middle of the room. I kind of needed to see him, too. I gave him a huge hug, and then I was suddenly surprised by a hug from behind—and by the hugger. It was Kathleen Merryman, a friend and former co-worker at The News Tribune, who was there writing about a group of Bethel High School football players en route to earning a major community-service award. I was thrilled to introduce her to Ray, and thrilled that she’d come to the Soldiers Home to write about good people doing good things. There’s a lot of that going on out there.
Other program highlights:
The Soldiers Home really looks like a soldiers home on Veterans Day, with giant American flags lining the entrance; uniformed Boy Scouts, single-file, pushing residents’ wheelchairs to the program; and a high-school Color Guard practicing its poignant march.
I took it all in and took a deep breath of gratitude for this place and these people, but my primary concern 90 minutes before the official Veterans Day program was one veteran in particular: I was worried about Mike. I made a beeline for his room, but I didn’t feel any better once I saw him, asleep in a twitchy little ball and not looking much like a man on his way to a ceremony.
I went to Activities to find paper for a Mike note, and was almost pathetically happy to find Gary there. I am always happy to see Gary, whom I admire beyond words, but today, at this exact moment, I think I kind of needed to see him. Things quickly improved: Gully brought me a cup of cheery hot chocolate, and then the even-cheerier Cal Bush joined us. I asked Gary and Cal whether I could please take just one picture of them, together. Gary made me promise I wouldn’t publish his, and it took me a few shots to get a really good one. “You said one,” Gary said. “I’m a woman,” I told him. “Changing my mind is my prerogative.”
Naturally, this reminded Cal of a story. “You be sure to listen to this one,” he told me: “A guy goes over to Sweden to get a sex-change operation. Afterwards, his friend asks whether it hurt. ‘Not too bad,’ the ex-guy said. ‘Except when they cut that hole in my head to take out half my brains.’" Cal and Gary got a good chuckle out of that one. I acted insulted (I might have actually said, “Har de har har”), but I am not a very good actor.
Gary wasn’t sure he was going to the program because he didn’t feel so well; Cal he knew he wasn’t, because his son was taking him to the Muckleshoot Casino. “Now that’s the way to honor your service,” I told him.
When I walked into Chilson Hall, Ray McDade was sitting smack in the middle of the room. I kind of needed to see him, too. I gave him a huge hug, and then I was suddenly surprised by a hug from behind—and by the hugger. It was Kathleen Merryman, a friend and former co-worker at The News Tribune, who was there writing about a group of Bethel High School football players en route to earning a major community-service award. I was thrilled to introduce her to Ray, and thrilled that she’d come to the Soldiers Home to write about good people doing good things. There’s a lot of that going on out there.
Other program highlights:
- Bill Crowell found me at the refreshment table and said he was going to call me today just to hear my voice. But now that I was there in person, he had decided to ask me to divorce my husband and marry him instead. “Deal,” I said. And then I walked him down the aisle—but only to meet Ray, who had secured some primo seats. I just love that they’re friends.
- At Bingo last night, Royal had told me someone had approached her a while ago about participating in the Veterans Day program, but she hadn’t heard another word about it. “I hope they’re not expecting me to stand up there and do something,” she’d said. I think they were. Her name was on the program to lead the Pledge of Allegiance, but she wasn’t there, so Danny did it (very nicely) instead.
- A representative from Gov. Gregoire’s office delivered a greeting on her behalf, saying the governor was “unavailable” to attend. I cringed, probably visibly. “Unavailable”? Really? That’s the best word you could offer a roomful of people who show more bravery every single day than most of us muster in a lifetime? Ouch. Next time, maybe someone could spend a minute or two with a slightly more compassionate thesaurus. Save “unavailable” for the telemarketers.
- As we were looking over the program, one resident’s son was not immediately impressed by the guest speaker’s title. “Every guy in here has seen combat,” he said; “and they bring in a Public Affairs Officer?” But it turned out Maj. Paul Robinson, of the Army’s 191st Infantry Brigade, was a really good guest speaker: respectful, humble, articulate and very engaging. When he finished, he even got a few “woots.” I haven’t seen that before. Well done, Sir.
- This is the first Soldiers Home ceremony I’ve attended where I did not cry as the residents stood (or waved their hats) during the military songs, and I was kind of disappointed at that. I’m not sure whether it was because I was distracted mixing punch, or because I had a large AJROTC guy right in my line of vision, but I felt guilty and a little concerned that I wasn’t more emotional.
- Four of us volunteers manned the cake and punch table, and we’ve worked out such a reliable system of refreshment specialties that Peggy and I knew without speaking that we should switch places so she could cut cake and I could ladle punch. We’ve been overwhelmed before, but today everyone was patient and polite, and everything went smoothly. Only three guys asked which punch cups were spiked.