For the Greater Good

Had enough of social distancing and mask wearing?
Tired of sitting in front of your computer for hours on end?
 
Rather be out and about, enjoying your independence, without fear of getting COVID-19?
 
Wondering what the few remaining days of summer and the fall (and beyond) will bring?
 
Overwhelmed by the climate of the times and searching for at least a glimmer of light at the end of this very long tunnel in which we find ourselves? 
 
So am I, and when I’m tempted to drop my guard, I harken back to the homespun advice my father gave on so many occasions: “It’ll all work out.”
 
Of course, it was never that simple (and he knew it). Nothing of importance ever is, and meeting head-on and overcoming the challenges we face these days are of paramount importance. His counsel was simply a reminder to be patient, think through my options, look for positives rather than dwelling on negatives, do my share, stay the course, and consider my blessings.
 
My dad isn’t experiencing the multi-front turmoil of 2020 – he passed away November 19, 2016 – but during the 101 years that he lived, he experienced plenty, and while he’s no longer here to dispense good humor, insight, and wisdom, his voice and message still play loudly and clearly in my head.
 
My dad grew up in Rice, a rural village about 60 miles southwest of Richmond. In his early years, the house where he was born and raised had no electricity, telephone, or indoor plumbing. Stoves provided heat. Air conditioning? Open the windows, and hope for a breeze. The roads had yet to be paved.
 
When he was still in grade school, my dad began working on the family farm a 15-minute walk away. To get there, he set out down a dirt road, hopped a fence, and continued along the railroad tracks until he reached the fields where he would spend his day.  No job was too grueling, no weather too hot, no humidity too oppressive, no hours too long. He plowed with mules. He stopped only for lunch. He never complained.
 
He came of age during the Great Depression when businesses failed, dreams died, and many families struggled, often futilely, to provide even the barest of essentials. Nevertheless, he spent four years in the cadet corps at Virginia Tech and with his degree in hand secured a job with his uncle’s company in Norfolk. Then, duty called, and he entered the military, just as many young men of his generation did.
 
The Army sent my dad, an artillery officer assigned to the 7th Armored Division, to train at several outposts throughout the country. While stationed at Fort Bliss (Texas), he met a young teacher named Ruth, a Methodist minister’s daughter from Kentucky. A year later, on October 2, 1943, they married.
 
The following February, he shipped out for England, and his new wife, my mother, waited and wondered and hoped and prayed.
 
When his unit landed on Utah Beach two weeks after D-Day, the worst was over, but what they faced was bad enough, and danger greeted them at every turn.
 
“We knew what had to be done,” he told me some years ago as he reflected, in spare terms as always, on that lyrical passage in his life. “We didn’t object. We put our best foot forward.”
 
Through five major campaigns (including the Battle of the Bulge where he earned a Bronze Star for bravery), his unit met with intense enemy fire. He never flinched. He never forgot.
 
“It was combat all the way,” he said. “It’s your life every day. You get accustomed to it. I don’t mean you enjoy it. You do it in self-defense. That’s all.”
 
Ultimately, of course, the Allies prevailed and the war came to an end. Twenty months after he departed, my dad returned to Virginia, and he and my mother collected their belongings, moved to Norfolk, and began, at long last, their life together.
 
In the past few months, I’ve thought often about the many lessons I learned – mostly in actions, occasionally in words – from my parents and their contemporaries of the Greatest Generation. Here are a few, in no particular order of importance because all are important.
 
Get knocked down? Get up. Never quit.
 
Start the job. Finish the job. Do your best.
 
Life isn’t always easy or fair. Control what you can control. Deal with the rest.
 
Tough times require sacrifices. Don’t complain. Don’t place blame. No excuses.
 
When you hit the wall, keep going…and take the wall with you.
 
Be resourceful, resolute, and resilient.
 
Think before you speak, certainly before you act.
 
Show compassion. Convey empathy. Don’t judge.
 
Stand up for what you believe, but speak and treat others with respect.
 
You’ll make mistakes. Own them.
 
Be honest with yourself. Be honest, period.
 
Take the high road, always.
 
Eventually, this pandemic will pass. The turmoil that engulfs us will pass. History will judge us not on the events of the day but how we respond to them. The world will be different and, I pray, much more united and truly inclusive.
 
The Great Depression passed. World War II passed. Those twenty months passed.
 
My parents persevered. Their generation persevered.
 
They learned. They grew. They pulled together for the greater good.
 
So must we.
 
 
 
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