He grinned with his pearly white dentures, his Vietnam veteran’s hat perched atop his gray hair. I have a special affinity for Vietnam veterans, knowing there was so much dissension around their service and such a lack of support so I noticed him right away.
I started thanking veterans when my children were a lot younger. It took a lot of courage for me to make eye contact with a complete stranger and thank them for something I know nothing about. Something that might bring back painful memories for them. But I wanted to set an example for my children in showing kindness and respect to other human beings.
It was pretty scary the first time, actually, the first few times! But it became a lot easier after we visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. 5 1/2 years ago. It was incredibly moving and powerful to watch a long line of veterans walking slowly down the path from their bus to the wall to honor their fallen comrades. Some walked unassisted and many were being pushed in their wheelchairs, too frail to make the journey on their own. My family and I stepped aside and stood facing them to honor these brave men who wore varying expressions of grief, weariness, and pride.
After that, I felt my timidness vanish. They deserved to be thanked, even if from a stranger in a grocery store.
I saw him as soon as I stepped from my car a few months ago on a quick stop by the grocery store. I was still tying on my mask when he approached his car, opposite mine. I made eye contact with him, a seeming rarity these days, and immediately noticed his hat. I smiled and called out, “Thank you for your service!”
His grin lit up his face and he said, “It’s my pleasure!” We went on to chat for about 10 minutes, with my family waiting patiently in the car behind me, used to their mom striking up a conversation with yet another stranger. I’ve learned that people like to tell their stories.
I learned that he was a cook and got great pleasure out of serving others. He even gave me his recipe for hard-boiled eggs, which he claimed would be a game-changer. I learned that he still remembers Vietnam phrases and words from his time overseas 50 years ago. He told me that he still has trouble sleeping at night when the images of what he saw creep back into his mind. And most of all, he told me that life is a gift. He treasures every single day as a new gift and is determined to make the most of it. He urged me to do the same.
Maybe I didn’t make a difference in his life by acknowledging him that day but he made a difference in mine. It was a brief connection but I can still see his face and how his warm blue eyes flashed with joy, in spite of the suffering and sorrow his days have seen, as he reminded me to make the most of my days.
I see people differently these days. It’s so easy to judge people quickly by how they look on the outside, whether polished and manicured or sloppy and worn. But I see people and I think to myself, “That person has a story. That person has experiences and suffering, joys, and pain that have shaped them.” One of my favorite verses is from 1 Samuel, “Man looks at the outward appearance but the Lord looks at the heart.” I want to be a care-er of hearts.
Veterans have a story and sometimes they wear it proudly on top of their head, hoping for someone to notice, someone to care.
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