This month we celebrated Veterans Day, recognizing those who gave so much for the freedom we enjoy in our country.
I am proud to be a veteran. I don’t consider myself a hero but I felt my contribution to supporting one of the greatest peacetime periods in our country (between Vietnam and Korea) was worthwhile.
My father, because of his poor eyesight, was passed over for the WWII draft for several months before he received his “greetings” from the Wadena draft board.
He served proudly, returned home to be active in the Waseca American Legion.
My mother received no recognition for her sacrifices. She was not a “Rosie the Riveter.” She stayed at home and adjusted to the loneliness and the hardships and showed her support after the war by her activities in the American Legion Auxiliary.
After father was drafted, she knew she couldn’t afford to continue renting the apartment we were living in. She heard about a man who was building a one car garage on the edge of town and she talked him into making it into a house instead.
I remember my mother telling the story of the night a troop train came through her small town. The train stopped but the military people on board were not allowed to get off. The women frantically ran past the open windows of the train, asking if their husbands were on the train. Dad was not and Mom was disappointed.
After basic training he went to Camp Farragut in Idaho and we moved to live with her sister in Spokane, Washington.
I started school in Spokane and on occasional weekends, my father did visit us. But, he soon was sent overseas.
I feel fortunate to have both a mother and father who are “heroes” in my eyes.