I just drove my 20 year old Ford F-250 up the driveway to a little cabin, in the woods, near a little lake. Dark, and cold inside, I pulled a can of beer and a bowl of chilly out of the frig. I popped the top, crossed the room and flipped on the heat. After putting the chilly in the micro wave, I waited for it and the cabin to warm. I thought of my wife and 40 year love, Laura, she had to go back to the city.

Another night, of so many, without her sweet voice and soft touch. It was my fault, I had chosen a profession that necessitated endless separations, the longest had been over 8 months. I had left her with a toddler under two and a one month old baby, then flew to the other side of the planet. I might as well have dropped off the edge of the world. No cell phone, no texting, not even email back then. Only snail mail, which you had to number on the outside of the envelope so they could be read in order. Reliability was not an option.

Communication came in expensive, broken conversations when in port via ancient oceanic land line. Normally, months in between. During one such break, while home with family in St. Louis, Laura saw a news report: “EA-6B lost off USS Midway, news at eleven.” My aircraft. My ship. There were only four EA-6B’s and six crews, bad odds, and she knew it. Even worse I was the nugget, the new guy, so chances were…

At eleven, she awaited anxiously through the entire news cast, apparently they had lost interest and moved on. A few days later the Navy finally tracked her down and gave her the double edged news. You husband is alive, but four other families weep. The dichotomy of relief and guilt, that only military families truly live, on a regular basis. The Greens, Carters, Gibsons and Horas would never be the same. I know, my Uncle LT Larry Menzies, perished in a Navy aircraft, our family was never the same. Many understand it, but few live it, day in-day out.

Old music from my glory days played in the background, I didn’t select it, YouTube just seemed to know. I sipped my beer, the microwave beeped. The chilly wasn’t quite warm, but I ate it anyway. After a crusty cup of pudding, I got in the shower and washed away a long days grime.

I let the hot water massage my sore back, sore from another long day working on Laura and my retirement house. I felt blessed. Blessed that I had survived when so many of my friends hadn’t over the years? No, at this age, that is more in the guilty category. Blessed that Laura and I navigated all the crazy years together? Absolutely! Blessed that I first shared a beer on this night with my life long friend and fellow Vet, Mike Paillou? Certainly.

But what was really on my mind this night, as the endless hot water throbbed across my back, was how blessed I was to have a Hollywood shower. No baby-wipes. Actual water. And the water stayed on, it didn’t alternate when I pressed a button between ice and steam. I didn’t have to deflect it off the overhead steel to cool it. It just flowed. At the temperature I had selected. Luxurious! Shallow? Guilty! But as Veterans know, it is often the simplest things that can make you feel blessed: a spoon, TP, a hot shower. It always will for me. I won’t forget.

So Happy Veterans Day to all the Vets, their Wives and Families! May all your showers be Hollywood!

leland