Stand up my heart, and strive

For things most dear to thee

Why should we care to be alive

Unless the world is free?

“The Peaceful Warrior”

­— Henry van Dyke

As I’ve grown older, I have noticed I don’t quite remember things as easily as I used to. It might be a person’s name or the obscure details of a past event.  It  might also  be a random item  my wife asked me to pick up at the grocery store.  If I take a moment to focus, often a name or a detail will resurface,  but more often than not, I have to text my wife to tell me again what she needed  at the store. (And  to be  totally honest, that might not be the result of advanced age…)

I sometimes wonder if we Americans, both young and old, have trouble remembering  important events and the  lessons learned from those events.  As very few veterans of World War II are still with us in 2023, an entire noble generation has almost disappeared, and with it the first hand knowledge of one of our country’s greatest challenges. In the past few years, I’ve been increasingly drawn to  stories about World War Il, both historical fiction and memoirs.

I grew up during the era of the Vietnam War.  Although only a child of ten in 1965, I still remember watching a Billy Graham evangelistic crusade on our console television in the family den when  he appeared to be  looking right at me and saying, “You ten year old boys who are watching this broadcast tonight  may be called upon to fight in this war if it does not end soon.” I got cold chills, and for the first time in my life, I was forced to think about a bigger world than my own rambling ranch style house in our small town neighborhood.

Recently, I was able to visit the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., for the first time. Although I had seen it on television numerous times, being able to actually see 58,000 plus names  that  were meticulously  written in shiny black granite on a wall that is well over a hundred yards long, I felt a solemn magnitude of that moment. Each name represented someone who had valiantly died fighting for the freedom of others.

 It’s so easy to forget the devastating cost of war when casually reading American history in a stuffy  classroom from an oversized textbook rather than engaging in it up close and personal. For that reason, I  was encouraged by the number of school groups that surrounded me on the National Mall that afternoon.  I applaud their teachers for taking them there.

My wife’s father was a World War II veteran, so I was able to glean some valuable  lessons and experiences from spending time with him when I became a part of  her family.  That will always be a treasure to me, but  now I wished I had asked him more questions.

He was  a very kind and  intelligent man, but watching the  news with him could be intimidating because he knew so much about world history, current events, and politics. After the war he became a radio newscaster for over forty years  before becoming a locally revered television anchor near the end of his career.

I wish he were here today to help me make sense of our national conundrums. His wisdom was unmatchable, as well as his humility. I like to  think he was typical of his generation, always putting others first and  choosing to believe the best about America rather than the worst.

As I reverently  stood at the Vietnam Memorial, I quickly sent a text to a friend who served in that conflict. I thanked him for his service and told him that I loved him. He is one of my dearest friends, and I would trust him  with my life. In fact, I have.

I’m thankful for physical reminders such as the Vietnam Memorial. It helps us as a country to remember important things that can easily slip our minds over time. It  might be okay to forget someone’s name, and it might be okay to forget what I’m supposed to pick up  at the grocery store.  But it’s not okay to forget those who valiantly fought–and those who died–for you and for me.

Larry Efird retired from teaching in Kannapolis City Schools.