"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."
G.K. Chesterton
The day has dawned with promise here at the Chicken Ranch. Through the misty gray of moisture laden air, the sun pushes in. The quilted patchwork of white, gray, and purple clouds, are accented by the brilliant blue glimpses of sky, that only make you long to see more. The recent rains have both burdened and encouraged the new foliage of spring that has pronounced upon the stark, bare branches and the tan-brown stems of winter.
The blooms and petals of cherry, crab apple, and pear trees glow in magnificent shades of pink, maroon and white. The wind and rain have caused them to fall like multi-colored confetti, settle like a late snow upon the ground, and liven the ever greening grass. It is a day of hope here at the Chicken Ranch, but it is also a day of quiet reflection. A physical ailment has has my body here, but my heart and thoughts are in another place this day four hundred miles away.
Another of "The Greatest Generation" will be laid to rest today. My uncle, Kenneth Dennie, will be buried beneath the bluegrass of my native Kentucky homeland. We called him Uncle Pete, my Dad called him brother, everyone called him 'kind'.
Uncle Pete was a Navy veteran of world War II. The war where the objective was clear, the purpose dear, and a whole generation of Americas' finest and bravest faced down tyranny. On the sea, the battlefield, the home-front, this generation of my family became the sword that severed the head of the dragon. Together this generation battled an Army whose quest was world domination, and beat it with an Army who fought only for freedom and world peace. Would that there was just such a generation of folks that my parents and grandparents belonged to, that would tackle what we face as a nation today.
My uncle, as I recall him, like my father today, was a humble man. Not given to bravado or loud proclamation. He had no sense of entitlement. He suffered the loss of an eye in a farming accident. He suffered the heartbreaking loss of a son. He has known rain and sun, great happiness and great disappointment. He simply called it "life". He full well expected to work, and work hard, to get what he wanted and needed for his family, for his country. He loved God and Country. He loved to laugh, he loved us all.
So today he will be laid to rest in the presence of those who he fought to keep free, fought to return to, fought to raise and be a father to. My heart is there with my Aunt Frankie, with my good cousins Kenny and Dave, and with my Dad who mourns his brother. I'll let Tom Brokaw wrap this up with a quote from the last paragraph of his book, The Greatest Generation:
"After talking to so many of them and and reflecting on what they have meant to my own life, I now know that it is in those small ceremonies and quiet moments that this generation is quietly honored. No fanfare is required. They've had their parades. They've heard the speeches.They know what they have accomplished and they are proud. They will have their World War II Memorial and their place in the ledgers of history, but no block of marble or elaborate edifice can equal their lives of sacrifice and achievement, duty and honor, as monuments to their time."
Goodbye, Uncle Pete, rest in peace and if I forgot to tell you before.... thank you.
