Today, there was an assembly to celebrate Veteran's Day. I was surprised that the high-schoolers that I was supervising needed to be told to stand for the passing of the colors and the national anthem. I was shocked that some of them continued talking and did not put their hands over their hearts.
It was not so when I was a child.
I remember when "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "Taps" would be played every afternoon at 5:00. It meant put your book down and stand up under the willow trees. It meant stop playing with your friends. It meant stop and get off your bike and put your hand over your heart. Even if you were in the middle of the street. It didn't matter; all the cars would stop, too.
If you didn't, the nearest adult would most likely help you to remember to stop. It was soon second nature, to the point where it didn't even seem unnatural to stop mid-sentence to put your hand over your heart and sing the national anthem and then listen to "Taps" before resuming your conversation. The flag, and those songs, demanded respect.
I'd known the words to the "Star-Spangled Banner" since the second grade, but I remember learning the words to "The Caissons Go Rolling Along" and "Anchors Aweigh" as well as the "Air Force Song" in fourth grade. It was exciting. "Taps" has beautiful lyrics, too, but I never sang them as a child... that was trumpet time. When I tried band in sixth grade for a semester, I played trumpet, because trumpets meant "Taps", and "Taps" was special.
I remember how excited I was to start fifth grade, because the fifth-graders were given the privilege of taking the flag down after school with a partner and folding it into a triangle before bringing it to the office. I remember how proud I was every time it was my turn. I remember how careful we were, Kristin and I, that we would never, ever let the flag touch the ground.
The respect was ingrained. It was like the eleventh commandment. Thou shalt respect the symbols of our nation.
It was good. But I have to remind myself, most of these kids have probably never even been on a military base, let alone ever lived on one. And although there were probably about fifty of them that stood to acknowledge the service of a family member, I have to wonder how closely related they were, how strongly it affected their lives.
My dad was Air Force. I sometimes feel that the way I grew up was hugely influenced by that. Everything seems to go back to that sometimes, from memories of marching in our lines in Spring Lake, to having Dad gone for a year while he was stationed remote in Korea, to living on base in England, to attending upperclassmen orientation in OTHS and competing with the others there for most moves in your lifetime. From the constant respect for everything from the desks (You wrote on your desk? Really?") to the teachers (they never seemed to need to ask for silence, and tardies-- what are those?). From the instant obedience to any command given you by an adult. Any adult. From the "yes, sirs" and "no, ma'ams" to the knowing rank insignia and addressing spouses as 'Miss Dee' or 'Mrs. Dempsey'. I remember how shocked I was when Rose Shogren told me I could call her by her first name-- me, a fourth-grader!-- because it was unheard of in my group of friends to call an adult by their first name. You might know it, because you'd heard your parents talk to or about 'Andre and Teresa', but when you spoke to or about them, it was always 'Captain and Mrs. Dempsey'.
I think that's part of why it came so easily for me to use the usted form in Spanish. While others asked about why you should use usted instead of tu with aunts, uncles, and parents, it seemed natural to me to do that. Adults deserve respect, so obviously you use the respectful form of the verb. Duh.
But I digress. Back to the Veteran's Day assembly.
I'm glad they had it. I'm glad that the administration felt it was important enough to have an assembly to celebrate the sacrifices of our soldiers. Because the way they sacrifice their time, spend their energy, bear pain and hardships, and sometimes give their lives to protect our freedoms deserves respect.
Men and women of the Armed Forces, I honor you. Words can never be enough to properly thank you, but I'm going to offer them anyway. Thank you, and God bless you.
