Monthly Archives: August 2013

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Remembering is Only the Beginning

soldier

Our United States military are remembered worldwide. There are over one thousand different memorial sites in foreign countries honoring America’s overseas wartime service. In the U.S., we have 44 National Memorials. In our state of Oregon there are over 200 memorial sites that show our respect and honor the memory and service of all our veterans. I was astounded by the number…two hundred! I couldn’t remember the last time I recalled having seen a memorial to our soldiers, but they are there.

Over the years, communities across Oregon have stepped forward to remember their war veterans. As you travel across the state, if you look, you will find them. You will find them in gardens, schools, parks, and cemeteries.  You’ll even find them on a football field and at a shopping mall. They are remembered on a flag pole in Astoria, a bridge in Bend, a bell in Eagle Point, an amphitheater in Klamath Falls, swimming pools in La Grande, a cannon in St. Helen’s, and a submarine in Portland. There are statues, brass plaques and engraved stones at locations too numerous to mention. You can even sit on a memorial bench in The Dalles.

Honors have been erected to all the wars: Revolutionary, Spanish American, WWI & WWII, Korean, Vietnam and already monuments to honor those in the Afghan and Iraq Wars.  They have become such a common site among our landscape we may walk by them without even a nod, a whisper or a prayer, but they are there.

There are over a dozen walls engraved with names and acknowledgements of their brave service and lives lost. This week four more names were added to our Afgan-Iraqi Freedom Memorial Wall in Salem: Pfc. Cody J. Eggleston, Lance Cpl. Robert L. Johnson, Chief Warrant Officer Joshua M. Tillery, and Pfc. Richard A. DeWater (OregonReport, May 25, “Memorial Day:…”). We salute their service. We mourn with their families.

But these memories should be only a beginning. Memorial Day should give us a greater appreciation for the opportunities we have to thank the soldiers that are still with us. Every day we can pass by those soldiers with more than a whisper, a nod or a prayer. We have the opportunity and  great privilege to thank them and let them know how very proud we are for their service to our country.

If you’d like a complete list of all the memorials you can visit across Oregon, listed alphabetically by city, I’d recommend going to http://www.portlandonline.com/shared/cfm/image.cfm?id=153625

If you’d like to get to know those 114 Oregon men and women who have died serving in Operation Enduring Freedom and the War in Iraq, I’d encourage you scroll through their names and bios on Oregon’s website dedicated to Oregon’s Most Honorable at http://governor.oregon.gov/Gov/soldier/soldier_oregons_most_honorable.shtml

Kay Helbling
Kay finds it an honor and privilege to be the daughter of a WWII veteran, the daughter-in-law and niece of Korean War veterans, the sister of a Vietnam War veteran, and the wife of a former Air Force Reserve Officer.

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Nick

I was at the mall last weekend and I made an observation.

Amidst the doorbusters and the 40-60% off clearance sales, I took a look around.  I’m a “people watcher” by nature—always have been.  So, I sized up each shopper that stood among the racks of clothes or in long lines for the register, and realized no one was smiling.  Even the clerks were pretty subdued, except when they offered the routine “Happy Holidays. Have a nice day.” Oh, I could find any item of clothing I was looking for on a sales rack, but what I couldn’t seem to find was the actual joy of the season.

Seems a shame if you really think about it. I know how it happens. To-do lists are long, things need to be done and there never seems enough time to fit it all in. So, we rush and we stress, and that’s when the smiles disappear. I’ll admit, I used to be that way. That is until the Christmas of 2006.

You see, it’s not easy shopping for my father. He never really asks for anything, and my sister and I discovered not so long ago that most of the gifts we’ve given him have ended up in a drawer. He would much rather store them away than disappoint us with the fact that he wasn’t using them. Four years ago, I had a great idea. I decided to give him the gift of me helping others.  Let me explain.

I got talking to Kris, a co-worker whose close friend Nick was serving in Iraq. We decided to put together care packages for him and the guys in his unit. My dad is a veteran and served in the Vietnam War. He once told me about a care package my mom sent him when he was overseas. Inside it, she put goodies from home, including two Jiffy Pop popcorn tins—you know, the kind with the handle attached that you make over a campfire? My dad told me that when he was hunkered down in a fox hole, he made that popcorn and told me how guys he didn’t even know very well seemed to appear out of nowhere just to get a handful. That little treat from home had turned out to mean so much.

Knowing that now, my co-workers, my mom and I went to work putting together care packages for Nick and the guys serving with him. We packed things like snacks, magazines, playing cards, chapstick, even a pair of Groucho Marx glasses so the guys could have a few laughs.

We planned on filling a couple boxes, but ended up with around a dozen. We shipped them off. Then, on Christmas morning, my dad found a letter under the Christmas tree explaining that, in his honor, we all had made an effort to send some holiday joy to Nick and his unit. My dad was very touched and said it was the best gift we could have given him. I thought: “This is what Christmas is all about.”

Kris heard from Nick a few weeks later. The guys loved the treats and all the gifts. He said the Groucho Marx glasses may have been the biggest hit of all. It felt good for us to know that while those soldiers were giving so much of themselves, we could so something small in comparison to let them know we here at home were grateful.

Less than three months later, while on combat patrol in Baghdad, an I.E.D. exploded near Nick’s unit.  Nick was only one of two soldiers to survive the attack but he was badly hurt.  He made it back to the states, but died at Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

I still think of Nick often, especially around Christmas.  He not only served and died protecting our freedom, but he taught me a valuable lesson about the gift of giving and more importantly, the gift of time.  Enjoy the people in your life.  Value the season which brings us all together.  No matter how long your to-do list, at the end of the day it’s not the “stuff” that matters.  It’s the moments that made a difference in someone’s life.

I thank Nick for that even though I never had the honor of meeting him.

Kelli Warner,
KMTR-TV Morning News anchor
Springfield, OR

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Zachary Wade McBride

boots

Officially, Memorial Day is a day to remember and honor those in the military who have given their lives in the service of our country. For most of my life, I haven’t given the day the proper attention and respect it deserves. Part of my neglect might be understandable. I was born on May 31, so my birthday usually coincides with the long weekend. When I was a child, Memorial Day meant birthday fun and a break from school. I was that naïve.

But even as an adult, I haven’t had much personal connection to Memorial Day. My uncle fought as a paratrooper in the Battle of the Bulge during World War II. My brother-in-law served in the navy, and my nephew did a tour of duty in Iraq. Thankfully, all came home safely. The closest I ever came to a personal loss was when a high school classmate died in the Vietnam War. But I barely knew him. On Memorial Days, I felt grateful as I sang the National Anthem with my hand over my heart, mentally acknowledging the huge debt of gratitude I owe to all those who serve.

But I wasn’t impacted on a gut level.

All of that changed on December 9, 2008. On that day, the son of dear friends, Sgt. Zachary Wade McBride, was killed in Sinsil, Iraq. In a house he and his team were searching, a rigged IED exploded. Zack was twenty years old.

He left behind two shattered parents and one shattered sister, plus countless shattered relatives and friends. I am one of those friends. When someone dies like this, the ripple effects are so far-reaching we as a nation probably can’t begin to comprehend the extent of the loss, but I know it’s staggering. Five other soldiers were killed that day along with one Iraqi, a young boy serving as their translator. This means that seven families and countless relatives and friends were all shattered by that single explosion. Multiply this loss by thousands to get some sense of the massive cost of war.

Since that awful day, Memorial Day had taken on a whole new meaning for me. When Abraham Lincoln dedicated the Soldiers’ National Cemetery in Gettysburg on November 19, 1863, he solemnly noted that meeting together to remember the dead was “altogether fitting and proper.” I agree with him. Parties and picnics and car races are all fine, but I don’t think we should allow these activities to overshadow the true meaning of the day. Let’s take some time for sober reflection. Let’s honor those who have died serving our country. Let’s give the day the respect it should have. I’ll probably think about Zack every Memorial Day for the rest of my life.

Soldiers like him deserve to be remembered.

Michal Ann McArthur
Bend, Oregon