It’s Not Just A Paver To Me- Memorial Day 2014 Poem

The Sunday before Memorial Day I visited my Dad's memorial marker at the Rice County Veterans Memorial in Faribault.  I went home and penned this poem I shared with those attending the Memorial Day program in Central Park.  Many requested I make it available and I promised I would so here it is.

The stone paver I purchased in memory of my Dad's service to his nation.

Sits like many others at the Rice County Memorial creation.

On the north lawn of the courthouse in Faribault.

To some it's letters on a stone, but not to me, oh no.

No it's not just a stone paver to me.

When I stop by and visit it's him I see.

My Father served his country in World War Two.

Before I was born, long before he even knew.

He would marry the woman he met and dated just before.

He joined the Army and got his marching papers to war.

He always downplayed his service saying he didn't do much.

He would say, my brother flew fighter planes, engaging the enemy and such.

My reply was always, you answered the call and did what was asked.

Starting in the Army motor pool, and then assigned a different task.

To guard German prisoners while escorting them from overseas.

During a training excercise in France he mangled his foot, it hurt up to his knees.

He spent weeks in a hospital where he wrote to my eventual Mom.

There was no combat in the European theatre or Guam.

If they had ordered him to, he would've fought, he was more valuable as a guard.

Because he spoke the German tongue making escape plans for them hard.

No it's not just a stone paver to me.

When I stop by and visit, it's him I see.

That training excercise injury plagued Dad all his life.

I didn't know he was a disabled American vet until I found out from his wife.

I located the card in his billfold after he passed and asked Mom about it.

I heard the story of the injury, but didn't know it gave him a fit.

He saw a foot doctor on a regular basis after that fateful day.

I'd say that's a sacrifice not everybody had to pay.

My Uncles would go to reunions of old war friends.

Held as far as each coast ends.

I asked Dad once why he didn't go.

He said that was a chapter of his life he'd rather not know.

Oh he was proud of his service and was saddened to see his sons didn't follow his lead.

My service would've come right after Vietnam and I was mad the military wasn't allowed to succeed.

Demilitarized zones where our soldiers couldn't shoot, but it didn't stop the enemy.

It wasn't a war they said, a conflict, show the difference to me.

We were still losing soldiers conflict or not.

Dying in foxholes and when their planes were shot.

My Dad would say no excuses, you can't control the messes your leaders get in.

But not serving your nation is almost a sin.

It is one of the great regrets of my life, not serving my country.

Making my Dad proud while helping keep America free.

No it's not just a stone paver to me.

When I stop by and visit it's him I see.

His paver sits in section eighteen on the memorial hill.

Not far from Alexander Graham's where the letters K-I-A are enscribed still.

KIA- killed in action is what that means.

Alexander didn't get to participate in many of life's scenes.

Walking a daughter down the wedding aisle.

Or seeing a grandson's home run trot and smile.

Each engraved paver is a person with a story to be told.

Not a simple hunk of stone that sits in the hot and cold.

The few hundred dollars I spent on that slab.

Was probably, so far in my life, my wisest tab.

For you see a couple years ago, just two months before my Mom died.

I showed her the paver at the memorial and she smiled and cried.

It's a nice thing you've done remembering your Dad in this way.

You know she said, I miss him every single day.

I said , I know Mom, I miss him too.

And before he passed, he asked me to look after you.

We shared a brief hug and then I helped her to the car.

Those few hundred bucks sure went far.

See why I say it's not just a stone paver to me.

Now when I stop by and visit, it's him and her I see.