First Posted: 10/28/2013
Last workweek began with what should be one of our most important holidays, Veterans Day. Nov. 11 is a day the federal government decided to set aside back in 1926 to remember the end of World War I. It’s a day written without an apostrophe, a day when federal offices are closed, and a day that really excludes people like me who never served a single minute in any of our nation’s armed forces. All we basically can do is tip our caps to those who did and step aside.
For me Sunday is generally a movie day, a day when life slows down a bit, and there’s time for me to pursue one of my few hobbies, either heading to the movie theater or heading for the big-screen TV in the basement to slip something in the DVD. Generally, it’s the latter, which is why I was down there on Veterans Day eve watching a 2009 HBO release called “Taking Chance.”
When I first got the movie and saw the title, my first reaction was former English teacher-like, as in, shouldn’t there be an indefinite article in front of “Chance,” say, an “a”? However, before the movie was more than 15 minutes old, it became abundantly clear to me that the title was not supposed to be “Taking a Chance,” rather, “Taking Chance,” as in taking someone named Chance somewhere.
Based on a true story, “Taking Chance” tells the tale of the final journey of a 19-year-old Marine named Chance Phelps, who died helping to defend America in Iraq. The journey is home, home to a remote area of Wyoming, home to a grieving family. The volunteer military escort, Mike Strobl, played with such dignity and respect by Kevin Bacon, is the one who takes Chance home.
I found the movie so very enlightening as far as how war casualties are treated and the dignified protocol followed when such sorrow rains down upon a family that has lost a warrior. I also found the movie to be, without question, the absolute saddest film I have ever seen.
The next day as veterans so rightfully availed themselves of their complimentary meals, from pancakes at Bob Evans to meals at Golden Corral, of course, I thought quite a bit about all the Chances who were so profoundly and fatally victimized by war.
One such casualty of war of whom I also thought was the son of a former college friend, a son who made his mom and dad so very proud when he became an Army Ranger and a son who, no doubt, affected by two tours in Iraq, committed suicide. Through e-mails that pass between us and also seeing her last summer at my 40th college reunion at Miami University, I have seen the impact losing a son so early and so inexplicably can have on a mother.
Once a vibrant girl with a ready smile that could light up a room, she remains trapped in a web of inconsolable grief over events that she will never comprehend, events that are as irrevocable as night follows day.
Much of her time is spent with support groups comprised of other parents who have lost their children to war. She travels frequently, not for pleasure as I do, but to meet with others who mourn their losses and, somehow, try to find strength with those who know the depth of her pain.
There are times I wonder about these trips and activities she continues to pursue, even now, more than two years after the loss of her Danny. Are they still healing activities, or do they, over and over, reinforce the grief and make it less likely she will ever move forward with her life? And, each time she tells me about yet another trip to gather with others, there is a part of me that wants to express my doubts as to how helpful yet another gathering really is and how such gatherings may be keeping her mired in sorrow.
But, of course, I don’t. How could I when I have never endured the pain that comes with such an event? Perhaps such pain never subsides in a circumstance when the script that is supposed to be the natural cycle of life, that parents always die before their kids, is flipped.
From someone who never served and, frankly, did everything he could to study hard enough at Miami to ensure my precious 2-S deferment remained intact over four decades ago, I respectfully acknowledge Veterans Day, a holiday not really celebrated but acknowledged — for those who served and, of course, for those like Chance and Danny who have been lost.
