I grew up watching John Wayne and Audie Murphy movies, with a little Jimmy Cagney thrown in just to make sure I knew what it meant to be an American.

I spent many weekends when I was young with my grandparents — they were great, lived on a lake and didn’t set a bedtime. If you were tired, you slept; if not, you enjoyed the day, or night. Maybe that’s because my grandfather, who served in WWII, never slept later than 5 a.m. whether he was on the old family farm, in the war, working for GM or getting up (after retirement) to meet his friends for breakfast.

As spirited kids looking for adventure, my brothers, cousins and I would often play Army (cowboys and Indians were passe) with toys not considered child-proof today, or dressed up as soldiers in admiration of our relatives who had fought in most of the 20th century’s wars.

My grandfather, great uncles and cousins fought in WWII; a great uncle — “Uncle Officer,” who later became an undercover narcotics agent, eventually dying from complications from Agent Orange — served three tours in Vietnam; and other family members served in various capacities as well, including as welders on tanks. Fortunately my dad, whose number came up, was never called to actually serve — the virtue of being just a few months too young to make Vietnam.
From early on, I was taught that the U.S. and John Wayne always defended everything good and free and American. I don’t necessarily think that anymore, but I still respect it.

With Memorial Day just four days away — and my grandfather buried since 1992 — I reflected a little this week on the meaning of what it meant to fight for one’s country: glory, honor and personal sacrifice. Along with that, I believe that we as a world are better off seeking peace, humility, knowledge and understanding.

My grandfather talked frequently about his time in the war — time spent with comrades, finding stashed wine in Italy, and refusing to take a suicide ride on a motorcycle across combat lines (he dumped it in the trial run and said he just couldn’t ride), asking to stay with his “buddies” instead.

He even told us of the time he spent three days awake: “It’s damn hard to sleep when shells are going off over your head and you’re being shot at,” I think he said. But about actual battles, that was all he would ever talk about — something I learned early in talking to veterans, as well as not to ask, or expect, anything more.

I certainly don’t agree with the current war or our demagogic leader in Washington, DC, who refuses to acknowledge reason.

But I have learned in not asking the questions that don’t need to be asked, that a “thank you” — just a sincere “thank you” and a handshake - from a fellow citizen goes a lot further than any political reprisal or politically motivated pomp or naïve question.

This Memorial Day when we’re all barbecuing and spending time with loved ones, take the time to say thank you, personally or publicly, and leave the politics aside — just for a day — to those who have sacrificed for the liberties we enjoy.

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