Armistice Day

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. That's when World War I officially ended with the signing of the treaty between the Allies and Germany. In Europe it's Armistice Day - an armistice being the compact ending conflict - and here in the US it's become Veteran's Day. Flags go on graves in the national cemeteries, here in Pasadena we get a flyover from a World War II vintage fighter squadron and students don't have classes at PCC. And that's about it. Veterans get a handshake and a 'job well done' and they move on.
   But in countries where soldiers spilled blood and bombs gouged the countryside they do things a little differently. One of my great uncles died in World War II, in Nordhausen three weeks before V-E Day. He's buried in the Netherlands, alongside his comrades-in-arms in a cemetery that looks much like those in the US, row after row of white crosses, too many of them.
   The difference is that in the Netherlands a family has adopted my uncle, they've assumed responsibility for maintaining his grave which they visit regularly. They've been doing this for decades, the role passing from father to son several times over. I'm grateful beyond words that people generations removed from the conflict still think enough of my uncle's sacrifice that they would do this in memory of him today.
   It makes me realize that I take our soldiers for granted. Politics aside, international relations aside, personal ideology aside, the men and women of our armed forces put their lives on the line every day for you and me. A family in the Netherlands remembers this, maybe we should too.