Veterans and Bed Races
LIVING HAPPY
There’s a passage on the Daily Stoic’s newsletter this week that reads:
“It doesn’t matter what you do, the criticism is always going to be there. So you might as well do what you think ought to be done. You might as well do what seems meaningful and important and fulfilling and right to you. People are going to say what they’re going to say, haters will find a way to hate. In the meantime, just be true to yourself, be true to the mission you have, fight for the respect (and praise) of yourself, not the mob, not the future.”
They’ve attributed it to this podcast episode (full disclosure, I have not listened to this full podcast) This is Why You Can’t Try To Avoid Criticism (Listen)
Today, was our town’s annual bed races which is this madcap, adorable, wholesome event that involves timed runs with beds down the street in the heart of Bar Harbor. .
It is amazing.
It is perfect.
It is silly and it’s lovely.
At the beginning, we had a moment for veterans. Some, when asked, reluctantly went into the center of the road. One of the winning runners (he’s taking a knee in the photo above after the last heat) is a veteran. I have my own adorable veterans in the house and two of my three dads were veterans. One was luckily actually in the center of the road. The other is in DC. There was silence. There was song. There were cheers. And then the event continued.
It continued because people work hard to make sacrifices in big ways (veterans) and smaller ways (volunteers, bed builders, sponsors, organizers like our Chamber) to make it happen because that’s what community is and that’s what community does.
They come together. They take care of each other. They celebrate each other, too.
Anyway, it’s Veterans Day today and I share this post below a lot because Veterans Day is obviously about service and community and people being brave and sacrificing things.
I wrote this in 2008 when I was running for political office. I lost.
I am a horrible politician, but I am cool with that.
Here it is...
There aren’t a lot of people at the Otis town meeting, but you can tell that they are a patriotic bunch. They file into the Beech Hill School, Saturday morning, sit in the folding chairs and wait for the meeting to start. There are a few flag lapel pins. There’s a gentle hum in the air, but I’m having a hard time focusing.
Why?
It’s not because I have one minute to address the residents and to tell them why I’m running for the state house of representatives.
It’s not because I’m sitting right next to Brian Langley, the other person running for the House District #38 seat. I like Brian. It’s fun to sit next to him.
It’s not because one of the women in charge announced that she doesn’t like politicians and since I’m running for the state house, I am now officially a politician not a writer or a mom or a wife or someone who really loves dogs and has a goofy sense of humor. I am suddenly a politician and therefore suspect. That’s not it though.
I’m having a hard time focusing because on the front of the Otis Annual Report are the pictures of seven handsome men.
Some of them are smiling at the camera.
Some of them look serious.
But these sons of Otis have a couple things in common:
All of them look proud.
All of them are in uniform.
I stare at the pictures of Michael Manheim, Justin Smith, Steven Wiesner, William Dunn, Ike King, Joseph Cammack and Jason Fishburn. Michael and Steven are in the Navy. Justin, and Joseph are in the Army. Jason is a Marine. William is in the Air National Guard and Ike is in the US Air Force.
Just seeing their pictures makes my eyes tear up a little bit. Just seeing their pictures makes me think about how they made the stories of their lives about service, about putting everything on the line for us, all of us, even the politicians.
The Otis Annual Report reads, “Let’s Honor Our Local Soldiers. On the fifth anniversary of the War in Iraq, no matter where you are serving, our thoughts and prayers are with you.”
They are.
And that’s why I’m having a hard time focusing. These seven men from Otis are more important than whatever I can possibly say in my one-minute “I’m running for office” speech.
People sometimes tell me that I’m courageous because I’m running for office. I never know how to explain to them that I’m far from courageous; that running for office is a privilege that Americans have. It’s part of what makes our country truly special. We wouldn’t have that though if it weren’t for men like Michael, Justin, Steven, William, Ike, Joseph and Jason. Without them (and the men and women before them) risking their lives, leaving their families, working 24-7 in dangerous places, I might not be able to run for office.
These men are heroes, real heroes.
And on Saturday morning I see their faces and realize how my story, and the story of Otis, would be different if it wasn’t for men like them.
I don’t know how I can ever say thank you to them for being heroes, but I know that I have to try now and keep trying, possibly for the rest of my life.
So, thank you Michael, Justin, Steven, William, Ike, Joseph, and Jason. Thank you to all the men and women whose names I do not know and those whose names I do know. Thank you to the men and women currently in my family and the ones who have come before. Thank you to my friends who are veterans. Thank you to the thousands of veterans I've never had a chance to know.
Thank you.
Thank you, Emily, who is still serving. Thank you to the ridiculously cool Farrar brothers, one of whom hasn’t been in the Army for ages and one of whom still is.
