I teach fourth grade in an
elementary school in a suburban area just outside Buffalo, New York. (No, it
doesn’t snow here ALL year, and
YES, we would love to win a Super Bowl or Stanley Cup game,
but I digress). When I got to work
the other morning, I met a colleague named Tom in the hall, and we exchanged
pleasantries about the weekend and Easter recess. Then he asked, “Tyler’s your son, right?”
I thought, “Hmmm, why is he
asking about Tyler?” I was certain he had never met him, and I couldn't imagine why he'd know him by name or be asking about him.
Then he told me. As it turns
out, my colleague, Tom, had seen Tyler’s picture on a Hometown Hero banner in my town. Tom
is very familiar with the banner project because his nephew is also among the men
and women honored as Hometown Heroes. What a small world. It is a small world
indeed.
They say that every person
is only 3 connections away from anyone else in the world. While I’m not sure I
necessarily find that to be absolute, we are more closely linked to our fellow
humans than we think. No where is that more true than among military families and
their friends. It seems that wherever I go, I run into at least a couple people
who have served in the military, have a close relative serving or are friends
with a military person.
The first time you get an
inkling of the bigger “family” of the military is when you see your child off
for the first time. In our case, we attended the swearing in ceremonies of our
boys, then raced to the airport to meet up with them again before they flew out
to the bases. Both times, we met parents and shared our pride, our worries, and
our life stories as we watched and waited for our children.
There is nothing like pride,
worry and separation anxiety to help parents forge a make-shift support group
on the fly. It just happens. No matter how fleeting the minutes, much can be
shared and much strength can be drawn from each other. Each time we have
attended a Basic Training graduation or met our boys at the airport, we somehow
gravitate to other parents of other soldiers. The comfort that the brief
interludes bring washes over and keeps you going.
So as I travel Buffalo Street in Hamburg, I look at the faces on the banners. I read the
names each time I pass by. I think of their families – some I know, but most I
don not know. I say a silent thank you to all of them for their sacrifice. I
know what they have gone through, their greatest fears, the moments of desperately
wishing to be able to hug your kid.
Military families bear a
heavy burden, but together, with communities standing behind us, supporting and
honoring our loved ones, we withstand what come our way.
