My uncle George & Veterans Day

My uncle George - not actually my uncle, more of a great uncle - was a short, slight, puttering mattress salesman. Bald and soft-spoken, you would have thought him a little wimpy and there was never a moment of question that my Aunt Winnie ran the show.

He never said a word about serving in the South Pacific during the second world war, but he marched with the VFW every 4th of July parade until he got too old to do so.

I think my dad mentioned George's service off-hand, once or twice, but didn't make a big deal out of it.

George and my aunt had no children. They lived in our town growing up and were kind enough to take an interest and became like second grandparents to me. Winnie - a former teacher - tutored me in fractions for months when I didn't initially understand them. The Hunters were the kind of smart, advice-giving, self-made people that every kid should have in their lives, and our friendship evolved and blossomed as I grew into an adult and they grew older. I got to help them the way they helped me. So it wasn't surprising when, a few months after George died, Winnie asked me over to do a few little chores for her. It was surprising, however, when she presented me with a small box. Some things of George, she said, and she didn't know what to do with them.

Inside were a variety of personal items - a driver's license, his membership cards and pins from VFWs in New Jersey and Florida, and pictures, some of them clearly from the second world war. There was George in his uniform in the South Pacific, George with his army buddies, George looking really happy at times and really worn at others.

Then Winnie told me he saw some bad fighting. Six islands, she thought, but he never liked to talk about it, so she didn't know which ones. Also Burma and what's now Pakistan.

Again, it was off-hand, matter-of-fact. No big deal.

Veterans day never meant much to me before that, and - to be honest - it still gets by me sometimes. Most years, though, I try to take a moment to think of my uncle George and the men like him who were, at least for a few years, forced to become something they never would have otherwise become, and in doing so helped keep a lot of people free. We take it for granted, but it's really an amazing thing when you think about it - young American men dropping their lives of the moment and spreading out across the globe to push back invaders who threatened not our land, but other people's lands.

So today I'll think about my Uncle George (jeez, I'm tearing up a little now writing this, like I said, he was a very nice man) and regret that I never got the chance to ask him about his service and thank him for it.

Instead, I'll thank any veterans who take the time to read this, and hope you'll take the time to thank one yourself if there's one in your life.

(And if you want to take a minute to share a story or two of your own veterans here, feel free)