An American Fable

It was Veteran's Day and Harold W. Miller was taking his great-grandson Tyler on a day-long tour of the Nation's capitol.

Up and down the Mall they would walk, just the two of them. To the Jefferson and Lincoln and Washington Memorials, as well as to those honoring U.S. veterans, like himself, who had served in WWII and those who had served in the Vietnam War. Harold hoped if they got an early enough start, they'd make it to both the Capitol and the White House.

So, they lighted out of their hotel room as the sun broke up over the Potomac and stopped at the Mocha Hut, a little cafe on 14th & K Harold remembered for having the best almond bear claws he'd ever eaten. Plus, there was a pretty good view of the Capitol Building from the sidewalk tables; a good place for their day's journey to begin.

Harold had his usual, no matter where he was, coffee, hot, black. Ty, his grandson David's boy who would turn sixteen a week from Friday, ordered a large mocha. Grandad grabbed each of them an almond bear claw, and saw a table open beside the brick planter at the opening to the outdoor seating area. They grabbed it.

As the two looked over a map and list of sites they'd found at the conceirge's desk at the hotel, they heard two men sitting at the table behind them arguing. Each worked for members of the House of Representatives and one was trying to get one to vote for some Bill that was coming up on the floor.

"Come on...", the one man told the other. "This is a good bill and will help a lot of people".

"But what's in it for my guy?", the other asked. "Yeah, it'll probably be great for business start-ups in our district. But you know he's not just going to give his vote away. He's going to either want the Whip to come and do a fund raiser for him or get him at least ten grand in PAC money, otherwise, he'll shop the vote on K Street".

Ty looked at his great-grandad as he listened to the two men and was surprised Harold didn't turn around and give the two a piece of his mind. Ty had spent many hours with the old man since his dad had been killed in Fallujah, and knew he didn't have much use for politicians. But young man's the silver-haired surrogate just popped the last bite of bear claw into his mouth, folded up the map and said, "Well, let's hit it!". And off they went...

As they headed over towards the Mall, they passed by the Supreme Court building. There were about 200 protesters out in front, walking as Ty had seen on tv, in a big circle, carrying signs and chanting something in semi-unison. From what the two could gather, there was a case going on inside that had something to do with whether or not businesses should have the same rights as people. Before he retired, Harold had been a very successful corporate executive and remembered how in the raccous debates at family gatherings, he had heard this man take the side of business and in his big, booming, baritone voice, make the case that business was the heart that fed the economic blood to the nation, and without them, we would surely fall. But as the two invisibly passed by the gargantuan marble steps leading up to the columned halls, Harold said nothing.

The two men arrived at the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial and headed straight for Panel 114, Section F. There, they found engraved in the glossy black marble stone, the name Harold W. Miller, Jr. Harold's son (Ty's grandfather) had been killed just outside of Saigon in 1968, and every year that the memorial had been here, Harold came to this very spot on Veteran's day, to remember and honor his son. Both his son and grandson had been lost in combat, and while Harold would give anything, including his life, to be able to have either one of them back, every day, and especially today, there could not, he thought, be a father more proud of his son or grandson, than he was of his.

On most mornings, as he pulled himself up and out from under the covers of his bed and sat on the edge of the mattress to collect his thoughts for the day, he always remembered that, no matter what this day would bring, he would accept if gratefully, because it had most likely been made possible because of the sacrifice made by his progeny.

As Ty and Harold sat on a bench near their section of the Memorial, two college students walked by.

"Man...look at all these guys who died for The Man, gave it all up so some Fat Cats in the Military Industrial Complex could get rich. Was like that in World War Two, In Vietnam, In Iraq. The Man sends our guys off to war for nothing. This country sucks!".

Ty's head jerked towards the man he immediately deemed an asshole and started to get up. Now he wa talking about his dad, who didn't die for nothing, and Ty was pissed.

Harold grabbed his great-grandson's elbow and looked up at the young man, smiled, and shook his head. "Naah, let it go, son", Harold said. We've still got a lot of ground to cover.

Throughout the remainder of the day, the Ty and Harold walked what seemed like the length and breadth of D.C. They had lunch on the back steps of the Jefferson, over looking the Potomac and the Pentagon as it sat, confidently, and stood guard like the old soldier it was, and enjoyed an old-fashioned tastee freeze swirl from the top step of the Lincoln, as they looked back along the length of the Reflecting Pool. Harold told Ty about the many great gatherings that had been held in this very spot; the Civil Rights March in August of '63, where Martin Luther King gave his "I Have A Dream Speech", and the numerous anti-war rallies while his father was serving in Vietnam. Ty could only think of the scene in Forrest Gump.

The day ended, as planned, with Ty and Harold taking a taxi to Arliington National Cemetery, where they visited the graved of Ty's dad and grandpa Hank. Harold always loved to come here on Veteran's Day, because the military and Park Service always had the grounds looking so taught and ship-shape, and he liked to believe they were always kept that way. Harold and Ty talked about each man as they stood at their headstones, remembering what was most special about each. It brought both to tears, but in the end they were nothing but proud as they headed back to the car.

As they walked, Ty mentioned how he was still angry with the guy who had been popping off aout his dad and the Vietnam War; how the guy had obviously never worn a uniform and if his dad were here today, 'he'd have kicked his ass'!

That was just as they were comming up on the graves of Jack and Bobby Kennedy and, as the sun began to lower itself into the wall of birch and willows that surrounded the cemetery like an evergreeen fortress, most of the visitors had left for the day, Harold placed a hand on the young man's shoulder and suggested they sit for a minute. Taking a seat on the stone benches just in front of the Eternal Flame that burned at the grave of the Nation's 35th President.

"No Ty, your dad wouldn't have kicked that guy's ass", he said, in a low, loving tone. "Something's bothering you", he stated. "Spill it".

Ty looked at his great-grandad half-angry that the old man wasn't as pissed as he was. "I don't understand you today, Sir...", Ty said. Ty had been raised right and regardless of whether or not he agreed with grandad, he always respected him.

"When we were sitting at that coffee shpo and those two guys were gong on about what they were going to trade for a vote on a Bill. I KNOW you Sir, I KNOW you don't agree with all that crap, that's what's WRONG with this country, eh damned politicians...I've heard you say it a thousand times. But you didn't say a word to them".

"Then that asshole, pardon my language, Sir, but...I so wanted to just kick that guys ass. How can he talk like that against the wars that you and grandpa Hank and Dad fought in, and they died for, and...how can yo not be angry about that? I just don't understand..." As his great-grandson finished his tirade and proceeded to calm down, Harold watched the flame illuminate President Kennedy's grave and noticed there was no one else there.

"Well...", he began. Harold sensed the solemnity of having the National Cemetery to himself and sat up a little taller as he felt he was not only speaking for himself but for the tens of thousands of others who ersted here...and for his sons.

I guess I don't get angry because, in the end, it doesn't really serve a purpose. You see, Ty, I've always believed, as my daddy believed and my son and grandson believed and as I hope someday my great-grandson will believe, that nothing, besides God Almighty, is stronger than America. Not just the physical land, or the people who live here, but the ideal of what America is all about.

Let's look at those guys at the coffee shop this morning. Underpaid staffers who aren't reall in a position to make any kind of a difference, just doing a job. And there are lots of them. Too many. But here's the thing...our nation was built with a set a principles and laws and people like those two will come and go, and yeah, our government has pretty much become a joke, but because of how it was put together, and how it is maintained, we'll always be able to keep it from going too far. You just have to have some faith.

As for the guy at the Vietnam Memorial, yeah he was an asshole. But instead of being angry at him, I feel sorry for the son of a bitch. He'll never know, never understand what we know. That there are two types of Americans; those that enjoy the freedoms and rights and opportunities our nation provides its citizens...and those who provide, protect and defend them. And that's as it should be. Our family's always been the providers. And that's not easy to do, because the most important thing those of us on the "provide side" have to remember is that in a lot of cases we're providing these things to the people we most disagree with.

You see Ty, being an American isn't an easy thing. It's advanced citizenship and it's tough. You gotta want it. You've got to be willing to stand up and shout at the top of your lungs, or go to war, to defend the rights of a guy who is shouting at the top of his lungs, in support of something you have fought against your whole life.

It's like with this whole thing about that Muslim Cultural Center they want to build in New York. Do I want it to be there? No, I'd rather it wasn't. Do I support the people who are speaking up against it? I understand why they feel the way they do, because I feel the same way. But here's where the difference comes in, Ty. While i don't want it there, I think it needs to be there".

Ty looked at his great-grandad, wanting to understand, but not quite getting it.

"The next time you get a chance Ty, take a couple of hours and read the Cosntitution. The Constitution, the Bill of Rights, none of our founding documents were written on behalf of "what most people want"; it was never intended to empower the majority. Our nation was created to protect the rights and freedoms of the minority, of the little guy. Why do you think we all love to see the underdog win? Because we were once ALL underdogs.

In the end, it's not important which party is in power, who wins an election, or any of that stuff. Yeah, people should all participate in the political process, should all voice their opinions and write letters and protest when they see someting they don't agree with. But after it's all said and done, the foundation of our country will always right itself and keep us on course.

"And in the meantime", he said as he stood and put his arm around the shoulder of his great-grandson and together they walked toward the cemetery's front gate, "people like my father and your grandpa and your dad and the millions of men and women over the years, and the millions more for years to come, forever and ever, will stand and fight. They'll defend what our country is all about. They'll stand up for the guy who hates what I and your dad did, and they'll stand up and fight for what you and your kids think and believe in, even if it's not what they do themselves.

It's not the little temporary results that's important, Ty. It's the process that's important, because it's the process that makes America special, it's what makes it work.

And, he said as the two men slowed when the reached the top of the cemetery hill, "it's what has and always will make us proud to defend it".

Harold Miller looked into the eyes of his great-grandson Ty and smiled. It was a prideful smile, that came from the knowledge that he had been raised and had raised his son, who raised his son, to believe that theirs was a calling of the highest order. To defend their nation, to continue to make the values of liberty and freedom accessible to everyone, and to defend those ideals against any who would lessen those freedoms by even an nth degree. And it was a smile that today came from the thought that maybe he had done his part in helping to instill that pride in Ty.

Looking at one another, Harold and Ty could feel the righteous dignity and honor that surrounded this hallowed ground, the way a mother eagle surrounds her young; fiercely protective and eternal. And Harold didn't have to wait long to find out if his words had hit home with his young charge.

Ty looked out from the vista at the tens of thousands of shimering white headstones, all neatly aligned as if ready for one final inspection. He had never been more proud; not only of his great-great-grandfather, or his great-grandfather, his grandpa, or his dad, but of every man and woman who had ever worn the uniform and stood to ptotect HIS freedoms. For the first time, he truly realized what it meant and how fortunate he was to BE an American, and maybe even more importantly, to be able to someday take his place among those to work and fight and sacrifice and die to help that continue for others.

"Thanks, grandad", he said as he looked at the old man who stood with a tear in his eye.

As they turned to leave, Ty glanced back at the cemetery and all of the fallen who now rested, and thought in his heart, to all who have served this great nation...


"Thanks guys".