Last night I attended my grandson's high school graduation ceremony. It's difficult to believe that much time has gone by. I sat there with this father and mother. I could see the look in their eyes as well. A mixture of pride and sadness. A little boy no more, when handed that diploma they become adults. Now when meeting people they will ask, what do you do? The answer isn't I'm in school. Even though he will be attending Stevenson University the answer isn't I'm in school. Following the ceremony we all posed for pictures. Reviewing them when I got home I looked at three generations, standing side by side.
Less than a decade before my birth American and allied forces stormed the beaches of Normandy. The greatest invasion force ever assembled. But most of us know the story. We've heard about the loss of life, the death and destruction that accompanied that. My own father served in that war. No, he didn't storm the beaches at Normandy, he served in the air, the eighth air force, B-24 bombers flying over the hump. I heard very little about any of that growing up. The veterans of that war rarely spoke of the horrors they had witnessed. To this day they seldom speak of it. They will say, don't think me a hero, I had a job to do and did it. That is the prevailing attitude among the greatest generation. As I watched the ceremony on television this morning it struck home. I am heir to that generation! It is something I hadn't really considered before. As I looked at those veterans in attendance today, all in their nineties, I could see my father. In his scrapbook there are a number of pictures of his comrades. For me they are forgotten faces in time, and I feel a sense of sadness when I look at them. And now I realize what a responsibility I have. Heir to the greatest generation I must keep their memories alive.
With less than a half a million veterans of WW2 still alive today the torch will soon pass hands. It is our responsibility to keep that torch lighted. More than a responsibility it is a solemn obligation. The price has been paid, in full, and I reap the benefits.
Generations passed. All those that came before us have paved the way. They set the example. Was WW2 the last great enterprise of man in his quest for freedom? Only time can answer that question. WW1 was advertised as the war to end all wars, yet four years later WW2 erupted. All the conflicts following have been comparatively isolated. Police actions, conflicts, and the war on terror. The lives lost in all those are no less valuable and must be remembered. But today especially I am reminded of the cost. My father passed in 1990 having survived forty five years after the end of that war. That the memories of the things he saw haunted him I have no doubt. Like so many others he only said, I did what needed doing. He was drafted into service when he was 21 years old, a young man from a very small town. What he saw of foreign lands he saw from the belly of a bomber.
Three generations stood side by side in that hallway last night. I did think of my father, remembering when he shook my hand when I graduated. How proud he would have been to see a great grandson receive that document. I will ensure that Mark knows his great grandfather, knows of his contribution to freedom. It is my responsibility and I will not fail. Generation after generation times moves ever forward. Time and generations pass all too quickly. Attending that graduation last night and watching the ceremonies at Normandy this morning, a contrast in time. What is old is new again. I pray that future generations will only read and hear the stories of conflict and war. I pray those generation never have to experience it. When we have achieved that goal, the soldiers may rest. Until then there memories must live on, we must remain ever vigilant. My generation is heir to the greatest generation, we must not fail.
Less than a decade before my birth American and allied forces stormed the beaches of Normandy. The greatest invasion force ever assembled. But most of us know the story. We've heard about the loss of life, the death and destruction that accompanied that. My own father served in that war. No, he didn't storm the beaches at Normandy, he served in the air, the eighth air force, B-24 bombers flying over the hump. I heard very little about any of that growing up. The veterans of that war rarely spoke of the horrors they had witnessed. To this day they seldom speak of it. They will say, don't think me a hero, I had a job to do and did it. That is the prevailing attitude among the greatest generation. As I watched the ceremony on television this morning it struck home. I am heir to that generation! It is something I hadn't really considered before. As I looked at those veterans in attendance today, all in their nineties, I could see my father. In his scrapbook there are a number of pictures of his comrades. For me they are forgotten faces in time, and I feel a sense of sadness when I look at them. And now I realize what a responsibility I have. Heir to the greatest generation I must keep their memories alive.
With less than a half a million veterans of WW2 still alive today the torch will soon pass hands. It is our responsibility to keep that torch lighted. More than a responsibility it is a solemn obligation. The price has been paid, in full, and I reap the benefits.
Generations passed. All those that came before us have paved the way. They set the example. Was WW2 the last great enterprise of man in his quest for freedom? Only time can answer that question. WW1 was advertised as the war to end all wars, yet four years later WW2 erupted. All the conflicts following have been comparatively isolated. Police actions, conflicts, and the war on terror. The lives lost in all those are no less valuable and must be remembered. But today especially I am reminded of the cost. My father passed in 1990 having survived forty five years after the end of that war. That the memories of the things he saw haunted him I have no doubt. Like so many others he only said, I did what needed doing. He was drafted into service when he was 21 years old, a young man from a very small town. What he saw of foreign lands he saw from the belly of a bomber.
Three generations stood side by side in that hallway last night. I did think of my father, remembering when he shook my hand when I graduated. How proud he would have been to see a great grandson receive that document. I will ensure that Mark knows his great grandfather, knows of his contribution to freedom. It is my responsibility and I will not fail. Generation after generation times moves ever forward. Time and generations pass all too quickly. Attending that graduation last night and watching the ceremonies at Normandy this morning, a contrast in time. What is old is new again. I pray that future generations will only read and hear the stories of conflict and war. I pray those generation never have to experience it. When we have achieved that goal, the soldiers may rest. Until then there memories must live on, we must remain ever vigilant. My generation is heir to the greatest generation, we must not fail.
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