Memorial Day

Most Memorial Days, my thoughts are with my deceased parents, both of who served in the European Theater of Operations during WWII. This year, I’m thinking of Ron, primarily because his son came across me on the web and made contact last week.

Most of my hanging around back when had been with Earl, Ron’s older brother by a year and in my grade. But Ron ran with us often, usually over Earl’s objections. There was a weird family dynamic that even I could detect in my feckless youth.

Their father had served 20 years in the Army, exiting with the rank of sergeant and going to work for Sears. His manner did not indicate he acknowledged the transition. He ran the home tyrannically and his wife and children lived in fear of his disapproving eye. Occasionally, he would try to engage my father in war stories, just as though he hadn’t spent it safely in Ft. Dix, NJ, but my dad would have none of it. Silver and bronze stars and a purple heart were what he came out with, and no need to recall the horrors.

Ron was a sweet guy and Earl was more like his father, currying preferential treatment accordingly. Why I associated with Earl is somewhat a mystery in retrospect. It probably had something to do with us acquiring motor scooters about the same time. I resurrected mine from a junk yard and his father got him one from Sears with the employee discount.

He perceived our relationship, and I’m using his stated analogy, like “Of Mice and Men.” In his mind, he was George (intelligent and cynical) and I was cast as Lennie (brutish and dull-witted), our relative test scores withstanding. Earl saw things the way he wanted them to be and I didn’t care what movies he played in his head. Many years later, we rediscovered each other and got together. Our relative outcomes flew in the face of his scenario and he broke off contact immediately after our visit.

After graduation, Earl and I went off to our separate colleges. I stayed in touch with Ron, who graduated a year later and enlisted in the Army.

Ron was stationed in Viet Nam. Two weeks before the end of his tour, he stepped on a mine and lost both his legs and was otherwise seriously injured. He returned to the States for rehabilitation and eventually found work as a police dispatcher. We were still in touch at that point and he was still typical Ron. That is, upbeat and a great guy.

However, all of this did leapfrog him in the competition for his father’s approval, which was more than Earl could take. He engineered an appointment to West Point, which probably put him back in contention for his father’s favoritism. That is, until he got kicked out. At that juncture, he severed relations with Ron, which hurt him significantly. It appeared Earl was oversensitive to comparisons and denial was his method of dealing. I tried to assure Ron he held no fault in this.

Ron was not the type to whine about the continuing health problems resulting from his wounds, but I could read between the lines. When he married, I hoped that would help his situation. It appeared to but we lost touch and I never heard anything for years until he eventually succumbed. And then, not until his son contacted me last week, having recognized my name from old stories his father had related. We did have some wild times.

So, this Memorial Day, I’m thinking of Ron and how unfair life can be. How a great guy like him could be so damaged in what appears to be a political ploy more than a defense of our country. Or how he might’ve been driven to his fate by a fanatic parent or recruiting or political propaganda.

Life isn’t fair. It’s neither good nor bad that it isn’t, just the way it is. Doesn’t mean I have to like the parts that deal such a hand to the likes of Ron.

Another aspect is a loss of innocence thing. I recall the carefree and fun times I had with Ron and the other friends of my youth. That was the last of it before the harsh realities of life manifested for all of us. There’s no going back from that point. But, at least we have the sweet memories.

And today, one of them is Ron.