Veterans Day

For the bulk of my life, Veterans' Day meant very little to me. It was a day off from school, a day off from work and sometimes a day to actually go to work and actually get stuff done because nobody else was there and the phone wouldn't ring and the emails wouldn't pile up.
I did not grow up in or around military life. My father, despite holding a terrible draft number, was not drafted for Vietnam and instead went to college. Like the rest of my generation (that would be Generation X, or the Reactive Generation, depending on which social theories you subscribe to), I was reared during the latter part of the Cold War. The only "war" that we went through during our formative years was the first Gulf War and that played out seemingly more like a video game on TV than anything "real."
It wasn't until finally getting around to Tom Brokaw's book "The Greatest Generation" that I finally started to truly appreciate the sacrifices that our military personnel make. It made me curious about my grandfather and his time in the Army during World War II.
My family is not exactly known for its communication skills and my grandfather's military background was rarely spoken of. I knew only that he served in Europe, mostly in France, and that he was awarded a Purple Heart. The only story that anyone in my extended family ever told of that time was a funny one. My grandfather grew up as Glen Anderson but he was always known as "Andy" and, later on, he was was Grandpa Andy to us. Upon enlisting in the Army and see his birth certificate for the first time, he came to find out that his first name was actually spelled Glenn, this after naming his firstborn Glen Jr.
During a trip back to the midwest about seven or eight years ago, I summoned enough courage to ask my grandfather about that time in his life. It took a lot to even get a question out. But we were alone for a rare moment, watching a baseball game in his always frigid, air-conditioned living room with the humidity outside so nasty that you could almost see the moisture in the muggy air.
"Grandpa, what do you remember about being in the Army?" I asked.
My grandfather never took his eyes off the television. After a few seconds that felt like hours, he replied in his normal gruff tone, "These damn Cubs will never win anything."
For a brief moment, I recalled that story about 5:30 this morning when I checked my email and read a message from my mom, saying that my grandfather had a fall yesterday and was in the hospital for X-rays and tests. When I got to work this morning and saw the empty parking garage, it took me a moment to remember that today is Veterans' Day and I thought of my grandfather again. And it made me think a little bit more about what this day should be about.
About an hour ago, my dad called. Somehow, I knew the absolute split-second that I saw the caller ID.
Rest in peace, Grandpa Andy. I'll miss you.