Beautiful Strangers...

One day last week I was sitting at a table providing information to students who were looking for their advisers. It is early November and already our eyes are looking towards a new semester. Being early November, however, also meant that Veteran’s Day was near upon us. Across the lobby area where I was sitting, there was an easel with a poster propped on it about the annual event being held on campus in honor of that day. I don’t remember what was written on the poster, but I remember that the center of it boasted a waving American Flag. Several people stopped and read it in the hour I was there; one of these has stayed with me. He was a youngish looking student, hair cropped close to his head and a backpack slung over one shoulder. He stood there for several moments, clearly reading the poster and internally filing the details. Then he turned, as the others who had read the poster did, and he began to walk away. As he did, his hand reached out and touched the flag. He moved towards the nearby doorway slowly, his fingers trailing across the stars and stripes. The gesture was reverent, loving, gentle, and lingering. I wondered about his story, and filed the moment away to think about later, when the bustle of the world around me slowly faded into a quiet evening. The image has returned to me at random moments since, and knew that I wanted to write about it. What I did not know was what I would say. I wasn’t sure if I could capture this singularly beautiful moment in an otherwise typical day. I was not sure if I could convey it with the justice it deserves. It reminded me – and still does – of the tiny moments of profound beauty that are all around us, if we can but see them. I know that I must often miss them. But when I am observant enough or lucky enough, I catch one of these treasures and they give me hope for this world.

Hope that is found in a young man feeding bagel crumbs to a seagull, or another young man in a completely different place in his life paying tribute to a flag, an idea, a lost comrade, a friend, a memory, an experience.

I have no doubt that this student has served and perhaps still does. I know that I can never hope to understand what he went through – what any veteran has gone through. My father, my grandfathers, many of my in-laws, my friend, my great uncle, and the line goes on and on. We take this special day to thank them for their service and their sacrifice. We thank the men and women who gave more than we can ever really understand – regardless of how we may judge the systems that placed and continue to place them in harm’s way. We don’t limit our gratitude to this day; for we walk the mirrored black wall to see the names, we tread amongst monuments and marble, we wave flags and tie ribbons. But on this day, our hearts are too full and they surge around us – paying tribute, making amends, showing support and honor in any way we can.

So, thank you. Thank you for the moments of beauty born from fathomless suffering. Thank you for all you have given and still give. Thank you for being brave and strong and doing what needed to be done. Even when you felt afraid and weak and doubtful. Thank you for standing in a place I can never understand and being someone I can never really know because your experience is so alien to the peace and freedom I enjoy. You are my father, my grandfather, my brother-in-law, my friend. You are known to me and loved by me – but a part of you will always be a stranger. And for that, my gratitude knows no end.