For Those Who Gave All

Rob wrote what appears below sixteen years ago.  It is absolutely a sentiment worth repeating...

 

Just A Thought

I started thinking in this time of war what this day means. It is for those who didn't come back. They didn't come back to their mothers, their wives or their kids. They stormed beaches, fought and died in foreign countries. All that returned was a box and a folded flag.

I recently attended a Springsteen concert in North Carolina. I traveled by plane through this American land because I could, because I am free - and because of the generosity of some good friends. As Springsteen played a song called "Last to Die" I got emotional. The song asks, "Who'll be the last to die...." presumably in the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. It does not matter what you think of the American involvement in these wars. What does matter is that we remember these brave American servicemen and servicewomen.

Meanwhile I am enjoying a Springsteen concert, enjoying a beer and enjoying starting a career with the best government in the world; enjoying freedom. How can I do this? These are my brothers, my peers, guys my age fighting and dying. They volunteered so I didn't have to. They're not coming back to their favorite band, their favorite beer, their families or the state they grew up in.

Their children will not know their fathers. They will know only their sacrifice and some stories their mothers will tell. They sacrificed for someone they will never meet - you and me.

Remember them today.

-RJM

U.S.S. Arizona Memorial

Photo Credit: Robert J. MacMaster 

(c) 2014

-AK

A Day for Cake

 

Rob and Me - Yankee Stadium 2009

The significantly-better looking member of the duo in this now-almost-fifteen-year-old photograph celebrates a birthday today.  I have any number of more recent photographs in which Rob and I are together, but this one has been a favorite of mine from the time it was taken for it was taken while I was doing something I love with someone I love.  The definition of time well-spent.  

It thrills me to no end that Rob has never been burdened, not even for a minute, by being forced to go through life carrying my DNA.   Truthfully, the man he has become has significantly more to to with him than it ever has had to do with me.  My hope is to one day day be as good a man as my son is today.  I have quite a bit of ground to cover, I know.  I reckon I better get started. 

Happy Birthday, Rob, and much love always. 

-AK 

Of Mothers and Sons

I am now as many years old as my father was when he died.   A day at which I have stared from varying distances over the course of the past forty-two-plus years has now arrived.   This lap around the sun, Dad’s last, is one he did not complete.  One hundred sixty-three days into it his race ended.   He died.   For those keeping score at home, July 16, 2024 is one hundred sixty-four days from today.  It is a Tuesday.  

I had intended today to fill this space with my lamentations about this particular birthday.   But then Adele Springsteen died.  Bruce’s mom died on January 31st.   She was ninety-eight.   I care not how old a man you are when your mom dies.  You cry until your eyes sting, your throat burns, and your nose runs on a continuous loop.  You do so because in that moment you are again a little boy and you feel gutted by her loss and the knowledge you shall have no more time with her.  

The death of Adele Springsteen made me think of Mom. June 3, 2024 shall mark seven years since Mom died.  Today?  Today marks the 80th month.   My mother, much as Adele Springsteen was for Bruce, was the great hero of my life.   Speaking of his mother, he said, “She believed that there was good faith, good heart, good hope in all citizens.  She gave the world a lot more credit than perhaps it deserves, but that was her way.”  He could have used those same words to describe Joanie K.  

“The Wish”, which he wrote for his mom, was among the songs he performed during Springsteen on Broadway.   There, he led into the song by telling a simply beautiful story about a favorite memory of his childhood, which was walking home with her from her job.   It would be just the two of them, walking on Freehold’s streets, “And she’d be looking down at me with a look that for me, was like the grace of Mary.  Made me understand for the first time, how good it feels, feel pride in somebody that you love, and who loves you back, ya know.”   

Yes I do, Bruce.  Yes I do.   

-AK