On the 11th hour of the 11th day in the 11th month of 1918, the Allies of World War I signed an armistice with Germany. The document called for the “cessation of hostilities.” Forty-some years later, my brother was born on the same date.
Our paternal grandfather was solemn in his celebration. “I know it doesn’t mean much to you kids,” he said, “that your brother was born on Armistice Day. But it would mean something if you’d had a brother on a big ship out in the middle of the ocean that day.”
I think of that statement every November on what we now call Veteran’s Day. It sums up so much. We rarely know every chapter of another person’s story. I don’t remember our grandfather speaking about the war before or after that day. But he gave us a glimpse into the heart of a Missouri farm boy who had never seen an ocean or a battleship.
Now, more than 100 years after the Armistice, we pause to remember those who served and are serving. Thank you. To those who shipped out and to those who stayed behind because someone had to milk the cows.
We are grateful for your service.