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Tales from the West Texas Dust - Memorial Day Event Special - Page 3

© Coy Holley

What are they? For one, I think we all have to realize that for them - it was the most pivotal event of their lives, the time where they were forced to hurriedly make the transition from a teenager to an adult male. My granddad, for example, was raised in a small East Texas farming community and rarely saw the world outside of it until he had to go off to war. Also, you see a little bit more of the unique brand of camaraderie that the men had with each other - both while they were there and also years afterwards. It's probably like the type of relationships I have when I go off with members of my church to observe the Feast of Tabernacles. Swapping old war stories, catching up on who died, who retired, who's now got grandchildren and great-grandchildren - you know, things of that nature. It's probably something that none of us can ever comprehend unless we have had to go through it ourselves.

But maybe it's also the fact that they were involved with something bigger than themselves - something that might make a difference in whether a grandson like myself could live free so that I wouldn't have to fight for a living - but instead could either write about those who did or just make music. It reminds me of a statement Thomas Jefferson (or one of our Founding Fathers, anyway) made about why he and others like him fought in the American Revolution against England - "We fight so that our sons can become farmers and businessmen and so that their sons can become musicians and artisans..." I guess that is the definitely the case with me. Whether or not I wish to admit it, were it not for him having to slosh around in the freezing cold of Germany in the fight against Hitler, I might be forced to pledge allegiance to the Fatherland and be required to renounce my religious beliefs. And noting that I definitely have a massive concern for the welfare of the Jewish people, I could well be in the same catagory as Corrie Ten Boom and not be able to survive at all.

My granddad died of lung cancer in September of 1997 just a couple of weeks before I went to the Feast of Tabernacles. When I saw my granddad in the coffin at the funeral home for the last time before the funeral, I privately went there after I got back from work and said some of the things I never was able to say to him face to face. Surrounding the coffin were, among other things, the usual assortment of flowers, well wishes for the family, etc. But what stood out most prominently in my mind was the flag next to him. When our loved ones assume room temperature, we have our own ways of remembering him. Mine for my granddad, unfortunately, was mostly of a negative vein. But I did try to think of what his most redeeming qualities were. I found one of them as I saw the flag - and then later at the gravesite when the VFW honor guard that he once participated in now played "Taps" for him and his memory. Duty, honor, country - that was part of his nature, like it or not.

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