On Memorial Day I think about the people, not the politics — the faces, the jokes at shift change, the names carved on stone and metal, and the families left holding photographs. I served in uniform for decades and lost friends in the line of duty, so this day is a quiet, stubborn reminder of what we owe those who never came home.
I enlisted in the Air Force in 1979 as an explosive ordnance disposal technician, and for more than thirty years I moved from squadron to wing, from flight line work to flying missions and running commands. Those years taught me the cost of service in ways a civilian life cannot teach. Losing teammates at home and overseas made honor a personal thing you carry every day.
Some fell in combat zones like Iraq and Afghanistan. Others were taken by improvised explosive devices or accidents that turned routine missions into final ones. On Sept. 11, 2001, I survived the attack on the Pentagon while many I served with did not, and those losses still feel near and sharp.
They were not statistics. They were young airmen who arrived early for duty, pilots who watched my back, and noncommissioned officers who passed on lessons I still use. They were spouses, parents and friends who answered the same call to defend the Constitution. Their absence is felt in small, stubborn ways from the empty seat at a mess table to the silence in a briefing room.
GOLD STAR PARENTS LAUNCH OPERATION 300 IN HONOR OF SON WHOSE LIFE WAS LOST IN AFGHANISTAN
Memorial Day is not Veterans Day. It exists to honor those who paid the ultimate price, not those of us who returned home. The holiday fixes our attention on grieving families and on children who will only know their parent through stories and photographs. That weight is something communities must carry together.
There are voices today that want to edit what we remember or soften the facts to suit what feels comfortable. I reject that. The service and sacrifice of Americans from the Revolution to the mountains of Afghanistan deserve our clear gratitude. They did not die for partisan wins or short-lived causes; they died to protect a nation founded on liberty and ordered by law.
To my fellow veterans: speak the names. Say them out loud to your kids and grandchildren. Tell the stories that stitch the past into the future so those who come after us can understand the cost and the character it takes to pay it.
To the families who carry a loss no one else can feel: you are not forgotten. Your grief is held by those of us who shared uniforms, missions and late-night watch. We remember the laughter, the stubborn courage and the small acts that defined who they were.
To the broader public: honor the fallen beyond parades and backyard grills. Teach your children duty and the value of service. Support the men and women still serving and those who carry invisible wounds. Live in a way that respects the price paid by others and keeps the freedoms they defended meaningful.
This Memorial Day I will visit memorials and graves, salute the fallen as I have for decades, and whisper thanks to those I lost. They gave everything so this country could endure, so the least we can do is remember them with steady gratitude and action. They deserve nothing less.
