50TH

Today, Glenda and I would have celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary. Sadly, she didn't live to celebrate it. Back in August of 2025 I wrote about what finding myself alone felt like. Since that time I've had to pull myself up out of the recliner, and find my way without her. I've done it with a lot of help from friends, family, and faith in Christ. This year, I'm not going to have a pity party, but I'm going to celebrate her memory in the way we always celebrated our anniversaries. Glenda was not the romantic one in our marriage, and she would tell you that. She left it up to me to pick the way we would celebrate, the where, and inevitably pay for it. Her rules were simple; if it was a hotel, it must be a NICE one, with a whirlpool hot tub. If it was only a night out, it had to be out of town, and a SWANKY place. We both had to dress up, and we had to have a picture taken. She never thought she was pretty, so after about two or three years, the picture taking disappeared. After that it was usually just a picture of our hands clasped across the table with our rings very visible. I never asked her why that was important, but it was. My rules were very simple, our anniversary was to be without the kids. It would be a celebration of the union that produced the kids. My only other rule was that we wouldn't talk about anything else other than what we were happy about. Our anniversary MUST be celebrated on the day of, if we couldn't, we didn't. Over the years, we only missed three anniveraries due to circumstances beyond our control. If I were asked to name my favorite anniversary, it would be our thirteenth. I was stationed in Las Vegas, and we spent an entire weekend at the Tropicana hotel. It was the honeymoon we never had. I don't know what was her favorite, but I would hope that the Vegas anniversary would be her's too. Of course our marriage was more than the anniversaries. it was forty seven years of love, joy, triumphs, achievements, laughter, and grace. No, it wasn't a fairy tale romance where we stared longingly into each other's eyes. It was struggles, disagreements, sacrifices, intense discussions, comprimises, and submission to one another. Still no matter what, divorce was out of the question. We'd both agreed at the very beginning that neither one of us would say the word. In today's world of individualism, young people don't seem to revere marriage, and it's vows aren't appreciated as they once were. For us, that wasn't the case. The words were more binding than the lip service given to them. I meant them when I said them, and she emphatically meant them, when she said them. Both of our families gave us a snowballs chance in hell of making it one year. I like to think that today, on what would be our fiftieth, we would be giving them a raspberry. Glenda, if fate had not intervened, I would have taken you to Gaston's on the White River, rented a cabin, and we'd have simply enjoyed the view, and the food. Happy Anniversay my love.

And They Will Learn War No More.

 I hope this post will be short. I need it to be.  After a wonderful church service yesterday, I went home, opened up YouTube and was immediately met with videos about memorial day.  As a veteran, I was overcome with deep sorrow over the seemingly endless gravestones overlooking Normandy beach in France, and the thousands of gravestones at Arlington.  So many lives have been lost in the last century, it’s almost hard to comprehend them all. It’s not just the military cemeteries, but throughout the earth.  Even in the small cemetery where my father is laid to rest I noticed a great number of stones with rank, and even some with pictures of the dead loved one in uniform etched into the monument.  Sometime today I will find time to watch Saving Private Ryan, as I do every Memorial Day.  I’ll weep as I watch the mother of the Ryan boys collapse on the porch as she realizes that her sons would not be coming home to her. I’ll also cry uncontrollably as the elderly Private Ryan says to his wife, “Tell me I have led a good life.”  Then almost in desperation “Tell me I’m a good man.”  

For the survivors of combat, there can be no catharsis, nor can you make sense of why you are still alive and others around you perished. My Dad used to always say that if wars were fought by old men, there wouldn’t be any war. I would just laugh at him, but now that I'm in my 70's I know he was right.

I was never put in a situation where I feared for my life or had someone shooting at me. As a father of three, I'm thankful that my service was largely uneventful. I served during both the Cold War, and Desert Storm and saw my share of tragic training deaths, and aircraft crashes. I never felt brave or noble. So, when I watch movies like 'Saving Private Ryan,' I feel so much sorrow for the families who lost loved ones in the many conflicts since Desert Storm.

While my wife Glenda was still alive, she would always rat me out as a veteran whenever we went to Silver Dollar City. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve marched with a bunch of potbellied, bearded old men who stood proudly at attention and saluted as the National Anthem played. Once the last note sounds you can always feel the power of the words, especially as we recited the Pledge of Allegiance. If you are a veteran, the Pledge has already been made more than words, it is alive in you. As a veteran, you can’t raise your arm in salute to the flag without thinking of the lives lost to defend our great nation. After the ceremony ,I would return to Glenda’s side and would slip my hand in hers. She always smiled proudly at me, squeezed my hand, and thanked me for my service.  I don't know why she got so much pleasure out of seeing me march at the flag raising, but she did. After she passed away, I would wear my Desert Storm ball cap, and march proudly to join in the celebration. Then, one day I looked around and realized that she wasn’t there to be proud of me anymore.  So I stopped wearing my hat. A couple of weeks ago, a young man who gives out the veterans ribbons recognized me and asked me to join in.  I told him I’d marched more times than I care to remember.  With an earnest smile he held out the ribbon, and said, “it would make me feel proud if you would wear this, thank you for your service.”  

You see, like most old men who went to war, victory can be empty in the face of the carnage of war.  So, you might be wondering why I push myself to watch “Saving Private Ryan” every Memorial Day? It comes from a moment when Glenda and I first watched the movie together at home. She saw me crying at the end of the movie, got up from her recliner, walked over to me, bent down tenderly, and said, “You are a good man.”  

Only she would know if that was really true.  

The older I’ve become the more I hate war, but at the same time, I’m not ashamed of my service. Like King David of old, I know that there has to be men and women who will lay their lives on the line for those unwilling, or unable to defend themselves. As long as there are despots, evil hearted men, and cruel human beings, there will always be a need for men and women to stand up against that evil.  I just long for the day “when men will learn war no more.”  (Isaiah 2:4)

So, I did my usual Memorial routine this morning, I went down to the square, set my hand softly against the monuments to the fallen, and said a prayer of thanks for their sacrifice. I truly hope that I’ve lived a life worthy of their sacrifice. I also hope that the young boys in our fellowship will never have to learn war.