Late One Night

I wrote this a few years ago. My daughter is now almost 6. I wanted to post it here to share with others. I go back and read it from time to time as a reminder of where my priorities need to be. To this day tears well up in my eyes every time I read it.

It was getting late and I knew I should be going to bed soon. It was going to be a long day tomorrow as usual and I still wasn't quite feeling well. I just kept thinking about all the things that were going on in my life and how, for whatever reason, none of them were sources of joy or happiness. Instead they all seemed to be sources of stress and varying levels of discomfort. I could pick any aspect of my life and consider an assortment of calamities or failures associated with each.

My eyes studied the glowing screen on my laptop, darting back and forth until I felt I had adsorbed whatever informational nuggets that nook on the Web may have to offer. My fingers tapped lightly on the keys as I flitted from website to website taking in whatever contents my mind saw fit to consume. It was a daily ritual that caused me to obliviously slunch over into a Neanderthal-like posture in front of the keyboard. Although I could hardly imagine life without the Web, in reality it had only been about five years since I was first introduced its vast trove of treasures and other not-so-precious goods.

The kids were all asleep and my wife had been in bed for some time. This was my time. Sometimes I would wait for everyone to go to bed and watch a little TV, read a book or magazine, or perhaps play some computer games. But mostly I used this time to surf the web. It's not like I didn't already spend a decent part of every day surfing the web. Not to say the least. But this was time that I could surf in peace. I could surf without interruption from the phone or one of the kids or my wife or the door or anything else. I could just let my mind fly and let the information flow like a gentle spring-fed stream. It got me away from the worries of life or at the very least made my worries seem small in comparison to how things could be.

It was then that I heard the sound. It was a familiar sound. About ten months old by this time to be exact. And I knew that it was better to pry myself away from the screen and go to its source than to wait for my wife to do so. I could imagine the look she would give after dragging herself out of bed to tend the little one only to find my Neanderthal-like figure still slunched in front of the laptop totally oblivious to anything around me. There was always that glint of believability in her face when I told her I didn't hear the baby as she sees me in front of the computer. But I couldn't bear seeing that look on her face one more time today. It would be better for all parties involved for me to simply take a break from my surfing and go see what the baby needed. I knew that in all probability whatever it was wouldn't take long and I could be back to my surfing bliss.

I opened the door to her room to find her in her usual fussing position standing up against the railing aiming her complaints toward the door. She immediately stopped and watched intently to see what my next move was. Any sign of hesitation and the complaints would continue. I quickly moved around to the side of her crib and gently picked her up. Silence would likely keep my wife in bed, which again was best for all parties involved. No further complaining would do anyone any good so I needed to take great care to ensure that no complaining would be necessary from this point forward. Usually once I picked her up she would begin looking around trying to spy some mischief to get into or some interesting object to examine. But this time she didn't. This time she simply laid herself against my chest as I carried her to the couch in the living room. When we got to the couch, I sat down carefully keeping her against my chest. She lifted her head and looked up at me. For a few moments as she stared into my eyes she and I were the only two people in the entire universe. She closed her eyes and laid her head against my chest, completely unaware of what she had just done to me. The effects of her gaze were still evident on my face as I continued to look down at her tiny form. Her gaze was not one of helplessness or necessity or even simple recognition. It was one of total adoration. It was one of those looks that only a parent and a child can share.

It was then that I realized that all my troubles weren't as big as all I had made them up to be. I could bind them all up and still not fill the space on the head of a needle. Right there in my arms was the source of my strength and rejuvenation. It wasn't on that laptop or anywhere on the Net at all. A few tears began to well up in my eyes as she looked up at me one more time before drifting off to sleep. I could feel the weight of her little body growing heavy against my chest as it rose and fell with every breath I took. I began to feel ashamed of wasting so much time away from her trying to find the very thing that she had to give.

She didn't need to be fed or have her diaper changed or have some playtime: She just needed her Daddy. But was it really her who needed me, or was it me who needed her?

The Reality of Freedom

I think it is generally understood by Americans that the freedom they enjoy was bought with a very high price. At least they understand it logically. I often wonder how many Americans truly understand the brutal reality of this price.

On December 8th, 1941, President Franklin Roosevelt stood before the Congress of this country and spoke those famous words about the horrific attack on Pearl Harbor the day before. He ended that speech with the following:

"Always will we remember the character of the onslaught against us. No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.

I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.

With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounded determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God.

I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December seventh, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire."

To those living at the time the President's words were not shocking or surprising. They were simply the echoes of their own thoughts and feelings. From the back woods of Maine to the suburbs of Los Angeles the people of this Nation rose up against those forces that threatened the lives of our citizens, our freedom, and indeed our very way of life. The objectives were clear. The consequences understood by all. And the cost would be very high. For more than 400,000 Americans the cost was the highest that any human could give.

The price was enormous but the price was paid. And America survives today as a testament to their bravery and sacrifice.

Men left their homes and their families by the thousands and ventured to foreign lands and endured hardships that can scarcely be comprehended. Young boys left their parents, friends and sweethearts and never came home. Imagine those young men not even old enough to drink alcohol today crouching in foxholes listening to constant explosions around them pondering the reality that the next explosion could very well rip their young bodies to shreds. Or the men on an island in the Pacific that had seen almost every person in their platoon die trying to take the same small stretch of soil but they continued to fight as if that soil was a part of their very own backyard. Or the men in the bombers over Germany flying through clouds of flak explosions knowing that the very next second could be their last. So many men never returned from those missions - or those battles. Those who returned would never be the same. Forever changed by the reality of war. For those of us who weren't there we cannot know or fully understand what it was like - to see and hear and smell and feel what they did. Fortunately for us we don't have to. Because they already did.

Four hundred thousand is a big number. It's a lot of men who would never again enjoy the comforts we so easily take for granted in this country. For most, their stories are all but lost in time. Their acts of courage and bravery never to be told. Their children never to be born. But their lives did make a difference. And the legacy of that difference endures as long as we never forget.

Tomorrow is November 11th. Many Americans won't even know that it's Veteran's Day unless they see it in mentioned in the news or read it in the paper. November 11th was set aside originally in 1938 to remember those who served in the Great War (WWI). November 11, 1918 was the day that the Armistice was signed that ended WWI. In 1954 it was expanded to include those Americans who served in any war.

This country was founded on the idea that every person is given certain undeniable rights from the moment they are born. And it's worth giving our very lives to protect those rights for our posterity. I, along with my family, stand in most humble respect and reverence towards those Americans who have fought and those who have died and those who are fighting today for the ideals of freedom and liberty that define this country.

What would the world have been like if those 400,000 Americans wouldn't have died? What would the world be like if we spoke German instead of English?