Vietnam Replica Memorial Stirs Emotions.....
This past week there were plenty of visitors to my town. Most of them made a lot of noise.
They made speeches and either supported or protested one thing or another. But there was one visitor to town that did bring a quiet dignity. A half size replica of the Vietnam Memorial Wall was erected and on display last week in Middleburg Heights, where I grew up.
This is known as The Moving Wall exhibit. It was made by veterans, and travels the country. It stays on display for about a week wherever it goes. I have never seen the real thing in Washington, D.C., so I was anxious to visit.
I am not a Vietnam Veteran. It's one of the few things in life that I was actually too young for. When I started college in Bowling Green, Ohio I was still seventeen. On my eighteenth birthday I remember taking a lonely walk down Wooster St. to register for the Selective Service system. During those years, there was a draft lottery based on your birthday. Every day of the year was selected in the lottery. The earlier your birthday was picked, the greater the chance you had of being drafted. My birthday wound up being picked number 196. Not too bad I thought. Could've been worse. March 6th was number 1.
But I am part of the Vietnam era. I would've served had I been selected. However, I did not support the war. Not many people of my generation did. It was explained by the government that we needed to stop the spread of Communism. I'm not going to retell the story of the Vietnam war. Let's just say - serious mistakes and misjudgements were made. One of the saddest pictures I've ever seen is that of the helicopter evacuation of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon.
While I did not support the reasons for the war, I did support the troops. They received shoddy treatment on their return. But not from me. Even back then I gave respect to anybody in uniform. I knew people that served. There were people that fought and died from my high school. So I went to visit this replica wall, not because I knew the names, but to have some quiet reflection.
When I drove past the exhibit, the parking area was packed. However I was told a shuttle bus was available from a nearby school. I went there, and hopped on a shuttle bus. I was fortunate to be joined on my ride over by a Vietnam Veteran. He was a friendly guy, proudly wearing his Vietnam Veteran blue baseball cap. He extended his hand to introduce himself, and asked what part of the service I had been in. I explained that I was not in the service, but I did have friends that went. "Thank God you didn't go!", he said. "It was a mess. There was nothing good about those times." I thought to myself that this guy didn't seem to have many positive memories. I wondered how his attitude in life had been changed by his experiences.
When we were dropped off at the exhibit, the first thing I realized was that the wall was huge. It may be half size, but it still has all the names on it. Almost as far as you can see; over 58,000 names. The replica wall is not made out of stone. It seemed to be similar to black formica. The names were painted in gold on it, not engraved like the one in Washington. The other thing that sticks out was that this was a somber place. almost like a cemetery. This was no celebration.
As I walked slowly along the path, scanning the names, I also noticed the visitors. There were families looking for a name of a lost relative. Parents were trying to explain things to young kids. Good luck with that. Then there were the Veterans.
There were lots of Veterans. Some were in groups. Some by themselves. But this was no party. Most had watery eyes. There was one particular Veteran that was by himself. He was leaning on the Wall and openly sobbing. I felt like I should give the guy a hug or something, but decided against it. Sometimes you need to be alone with your thoughts, and cry about things you've lost.
It was then I remembered the words of the Veteran that I shared the shuttle bus with. That I should thank God that I wasn't there. And I do. Most of the names on the wall didn't get a chance to live a full, rich life. Most never married or got a chance to raise a family. The story of their lives were cut short and never finished.
How lucky I have been to have lived the life I have. No, sometimes it hasn't been a bed of roses. But at least I've had the opportunity that these names were not given. It makes you wonder what things happen by coincidence. But sometimes coincidence is just God's way of remaining anonymous.
This past week there were plenty of visitors to my town. Most of them made a lot of noise.
They made speeches and either supported or protested one thing or another. But there was one visitor to town that did bring a quiet dignity. A half size replica of the Vietnam Memorial Wall was erected and on display last week in Middleburg Heights, where I grew up.
 |
| The replica Vietnam Memorial Wall. |
I am not a Vietnam Veteran. It's one of the few things in life that I was actually too young for. When I started college in Bowling Green, Ohio I was still seventeen. On my eighteenth birthday I remember taking a lonely walk down Wooster St. to register for the Selective Service system. During those years, there was a draft lottery based on your birthday. Every day of the year was selected in the lottery. The earlier your birthday was picked, the greater the chance you had of being drafted. My birthday wound up being picked number 196. Not too bad I thought. Could've been worse. March 6th was number 1.
But I am part of the Vietnam era. I would've served had I been selected. However, I did not support the war. Not many people of my generation did. It was explained by the government that we needed to stop the spread of Communism. I'm not going to retell the story of the Vietnam war. Let's just say - serious mistakes and misjudgements were made. One of the saddest pictures I've ever seen is that of the helicopter evacuation of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon.
 |
| Evacuation of Saigon. |
While I did not support the reasons for the war, I did support the troops. They received shoddy treatment on their return. But not from me. Even back then I gave respect to anybody in uniform. I knew people that served. There were people that fought and died from my high school. So I went to visit this replica wall, not because I knew the names, but to have some quiet reflection.
When I drove past the exhibit, the parking area was packed. However I was told a shuttle bus was available from a nearby school. I went there, and hopped on a shuttle bus. I was fortunate to be joined on my ride over by a Vietnam Veteran. He was a friendly guy, proudly wearing his Vietnam Veteran blue baseball cap. He extended his hand to introduce himself, and asked what part of the service I had been in. I explained that I was not in the service, but I did have friends that went. "Thank God you didn't go!", he said. "It was a mess. There was nothing good about those times." I thought to myself that this guy didn't seem to have many positive memories. I wondered how his attitude in life had been changed by his experiences.
When we were dropped off at the exhibit, the first thing I realized was that the wall was huge. It may be half size, but it still has all the names on it. Almost as far as you can see; over 58,000 names. The replica wall is not made out of stone. It seemed to be similar to black formica. The names were painted in gold on it, not engraved like the one in Washington. The other thing that sticks out was that this was a somber place. almost like a cemetery. This was no celebration.
 |
| Flowers left by the wall. |
There were lots of Veterans. Some were in groups. Some by themselves. But this was no party. Most had watery eyes. There was one particular Veteran that was by himself. He was leaning on the Wall and openly sobbing. I felt like I should give the guy a hug or something, but decided against it. Sometimes you need to be alone with your thoughts, and cry about things you've lost.
It was then I remembered the words of the Veteran that I shared the shuttle bus with. That I should thank God that I wasn't there. And I do. Most of the names on the wall didn't get a chance to live a full, rich life. Most never married or got a chance to raise a family. The story of their lives were cut short and never finished.
How lucky I have been to have lived the life I have. No, sometimes it hasn't been a bed of roses. But at least I've had the opportunity that these names were not given. It makes you wonder what things happen by coincidence. But sometimes coincidence is just God's way of remaining anonymous.
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