My Thanksgiving Prayer

MY THANKSGIVING PRAYER

        Given the state of the government, the world, humanity, the environment, and numerous offshoots, I've been in a funk for the last few years.  But when Karl called to remind me about the City Band performance for the Veteran's Ceremony at the Americal Legion, I replied reluctantly that I'd be there.  Truthfully, I was getting sick of receiving, then deleting, emails relating to the war, the election, and new patriotic songs.  I'd just listened, then deleted, a new one called A Pittance of Time, which was circulating through the ranks.  It was another self-righteous guilt trip, as far as I was concerned.  "They fought and some died for our homeland---now it's our land".  Well, yeah, now that things have settled out from the time we did the same to the Natives of this country.
        So on Saturday morning, I was getting set to be there at 11:00.  I looked again at my calendar, and discovered that the assigned time was actually 10:00, giving me only 15 minutes to get dressed, run a brush through my hair, (forget the shower), and go!  Fortunately there was a granola bar in my glove compartment.
        The band was set up already, and getting music in order.  As I climbed up onto the crowded, funkier than funky stage, I apologized for being late, and Karl replied "that's ok, you're on the third clarinet part".  Fine.  So, with no elbow room, and the cymbal about four inches from my ear, I began pulling out my clarinet and sorting my music.  My hands were freezing.  So was my clarinet.  Great.  Finally, with the preliminaries done, I had a few moments to sit on my hands.  I looked at the audience and counted twenty people--about one person for every four or five seats.  I looked at the band.  I'd estimate there were about fifty of us.  We warmed up.  We played our first march.  We sounded great.  We finished, and there was no applause.  Not one clap.
          Three more songs into it, a few people started applauding, and the seats were starting to fill.  But I was bored and didn't want to be there.  I think the Armed Forces Salute was our fourth number. There I was, barely going through the motions, when I eyed a man in the front row by himself, maybe 80, wiping a tear.  Apparently what we were doing meant something to someone, bless his heart.  I started playing for him.  Those anthems, and all they stood for, started to permeate my soul, and I found it hard to maintain my composure, wondering what specific story or group of stories prompted him to react so.  Were his politics anything like mine?   Does he feel it was worth it to go through whatever it was he experienced?  What if it were me?  The band kept on, and the room kept filling up, almost to capacity.  The people were a little late, but they did get there.
          The older I get, the more the answers elude me.  What is freedom, really?  For what will I be giving thanks this Thanksgiving?  This man sacrificed what?---so that I may advertise a "Girls Gone Wild" video on Comedy Central?--or if I want to make a billion dollars, I'm free to merge, then downsize into oblivion?  I'm reminded of a book--what was the name of it?-- about Tecumseh, the brave warrior who fought against us in the French and Indian War.  His likeness now graces our best selling baking soda product. I've often looked at soldiers as the hired protectors of other people's wealth.  Sure we all have a chance to "make it" in America.  It's just easier for some than for others.  What must the terrorists think?
          We kept on with the marches and anthems.  My hands were thawing.  Then came the ceremony.  There was a lot of standing and sitting, which I had to do carefully because of the uneven floorboards.  I knew the eleventh month was November, and I knew the eleventh day was Veteran's Day.  I even knew that the eleventh hour was significant to veterans, since I'd played at numerous Elk's Club functions.  I'm embarrassed to admit, though, that it wasn't till then that I put it all together and realized that the end of WWI, the "war to end all wars" was ended on the eleventh hour of November eleventh.
          Overseeing the ceremony was the commander of the American Legion.  Uniform clad ladies and gentlemen solemnly placed flags into their holders as we played soft strains of Danny Boy.  There was an explanation for the table setting to the side of the flags--a small table with a white tablecloth, symbolizing the loneliness, and a single red rose, symbolizing the blood that was shed.  Then, like in a funeral, vets were asked to come to the microphone and share their stories.  Half way through it, I recognized the words of one of the storytellers: "Look at his little child.  There's no fear in her eyes.  Could he not show respect for other dads who have died?"  Those words were from the song!
          The veterans and one wife told a few more stories.  "Flags of our Fathers" was highly recommended.  I plan to see the movie soon.  We finished up.   I went home to my husband, a Vietnam vet.  I plan to show him my appreciation tonight.  I thanked God for the VA, which has helped us through some tough times.  I pray for guidance for our country, both the leaders and the led.  I felt I'd honored some truly significant people.  May we bless them with a country that is worthy.