Remember

I remember the big, boxy, console TV that sat in our livingroom. It was a black and white. Received four channels but we were only able to see three. And it had an antenna that was called rabbit ears. A flag of foil on that antenna helped get the channels we were able to receive. . 
We watched our Saturday morning cartoons on that TV...and we watched as Captain Kirk and Will Robinson flew off into the dark depths of space in their ships. Disney was on Sunday nights and Old Yeller, Pollyanna, and Bed Knobs and Broomsticks entertained us all. And yes, we heard the first strains of the theme to Sesame Street. 

I remember watching the ‘68 Olympics. I balanced on our livingroom’s tile lines as Cathy Rigby did her routine across the balance beam. And held my breath and cheered for the power of the Soviet men’s gymnast, Viktor Klimenko. And I did watch the award ceremonies as Tommie Smith and John Carlos, each raised a black-gloved fist during the playing of the US national anthem. I had no idea what it meant. I didn’t know about the Soviet invasion or the astrocities done against others. 

We watched in wonder coverage of the moon landing and the recovery of the space capsule out in the ocean. Our TV kept fading in and out, but we wouldn’t have missed it for all the candy in the store. Well, maybe some of the candy. 

But we also quietly watched nightly as Walter Cronkite would come on and give the daily fatality and injury report for the conflict happening in a far off country called Vietnam. We learned terms like KIA and MIA. Offensive actions and provinces in that far off land. And we watched the names as they scrolled by on our screen hoping no one we knew was on that list. 

As a little girl, I really had no idea what all of that truly meant. And in 1975, we watched as reports came about the evacuation of Saigon. The faces of the people made me cry for them. I hurt for the kids I saw and wondered what would happen to them. There was no way to know that a person who would eventually be my dear friend and my Pastor was one of those people evacuated. He was three and a half when he, his mom and dad, and his big brother were moved to the United States. 

Today, I look back. I remember those men and women for not only that war, but for too many other wars and conflicts. They gave their lives in service to others. Their sacrifices have meaning. 

Today, we remember them.