Every Memorial Day I remember those in my generation who fought in a very unpopular war, Viet Nam.  These were the young men who attended high school and college with me, those who found their dreams and pursuit of happiness interrupted as they left the comforts of America and traveled  to those muggy marshes on the other side of the world.

I recall their letters, their stories, and unfortunately, the deaths that resulted from that war.  I remember how the public humiliated them when they came home, spitting on them, calling them killers, before painfully shunning them.  These young men were serving their country, following the law and trusting that our leaders had the country's interest at heart.  Many remembered their own dads who had bravely served during World War II or the Korean War.    And so, they proudly suited up and did what any respectful American would do----served their country.
Today the Viet Nam Vets are enjoying a new respect as their generation of "baby boomers" have moved on quietly into old age.  There is a calm that has taken place among my generation, a repentance, if you will.  When I go to the Viet Nam Memorial here in Frankfort, Kentucky, I have found that peace, that calmness as I realize that I am still living in a free country.   And  while my heart cries for those who were lost, maimed physically or mentally, I also feel a sense of pride as I look at that list of names in the morning sunlight.  It is then that I thank God for each one of them and pray that they found a reward on the other side, one that is far greater than anything we could ever offer them here.

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