I’m not sure when my Uncle Mark Kelly started writing an annual Veterans’ Day email, but I first remember receiving it when I was in college and feeling homesick. Although his words addressed a somber subject, they comforted me at a time when I was longing for the warmth and closeness of my family. When I was growing up in New Orleans, Uncle Mark’s family lived right across the street from us–on the campus of the school that my sisters and I attended and where my uncle was the middle school principal. I remember hearing him talk about Veterans’ Day at school and seeing him wear my grandfather’s suit.
Later, when I received the email, Uncle Mark’s comments about my grandfather caused me to reimagine the few moments I remember with him, snuggled up on the couch of my grandparents’ living room in Wellesley, Massachusetts. Although Grampie died when I was only four, I vividly remember him sneaking extra Grasshopper cookies out of the cookie jar for me–when my grandmother and my mom weren’t looking, of course!
Uncle Mark’s first Veterans’ Day email conjured up stories I had heard about my grandfather serving as a World War II Naval officer on the U.S.S. Leonard Wood: he left for the Pacific when my mom was only 10 months old and didn’t return home until three months after her second birthday. Uncle Mark’s email also reminded me of my great-grandfather and his four brothers, all of whom served in various branches of the military during World War I, and I thought about how hard their absence must have been for their parents.
Since none of my immediate family members are in the military, I am not directly affected by the sacrifices a family has to make in that situation. Mark’s email is always a thoughtful reminder of what my grandparents and great-grandparents endured and the obstacles they overcame so that I and my sisters could be here. On Veterans’ Day, I focus on the sacrifices so many have made and continue to make for our country.
Every year, I look forward to receiving Uncle Mark’s email, which is always moving and deserves a wide audience. This year, I’ve decided to share his compassionate words with all of you. He changes it up with a new story each year, but the end always remains the same:
“Passing the worn and faded draft notice, issued in 1971, to the student in the first row, I continued my lecture. ‘Let me get this straight,’ said the eighth-grader, ‘you did not have to serve in Vietnam because of a lottery number?’ Clutching my worn draft notice, as it was being passed around the class, he stared at the section where the lottery number was printed. I informed him, that, although there were other factors, such as the timing of the war and the fact that we were mainly pulling people out of Vietnam at that time, he was essentially correct. As the impact of this started to seep into the rest of the class, tears welled up in the eyes of some.
“Being a high school graduate in 1971, and turning eighteen during August of that year, I would be subject to the draft for the Vietnam Conflict. My older brother had been classified 1-Y (later reclassified to 4-F) because of a bad knee injury sustained while playing football, and, thus, he was not eligible to be drafted. For my younger brother, the draft ended the day before he turned eighteen. I, however, would be registering and would be subject to the draft.
“As expected, my initial classification the day I turned eighteen was 1-A, which meant I was available for military service. My lottery number, however, was a factor in the end. Up to 1971 the highest lottery number that had ever been called for induction was 125. My number was 198. Eventually I received a letter from the Selective Service System that reclassified me from 1-A to 1-H, which was a new classification. This meant, that, although I was eligible for induction, I was not currently subject to it. The letter also said the following: If your lottery number is high enough, you will be left in Class 1-H indefinitely, with the realization that each year your likelihood of being selected for induction is decreasing. And, thus, I was never drafted. Time and circumstance had intervened. Instead I went on to college, became trained as a teacher at the same time that the last troops left Vietnam, and then began my teaching career. Perhaps it was supposed to happen that way.
“Today, Veterans’ Day, is a day to remember and to thank those who have served our country in the line of duty. My grandfather was a veteran of World War I, and my father was a veteran of World War II. As has been my custom for the past thirty years, I will wear my father’s dog tags in his honor; I also will wear my grandfather’s pocket watch in his honor.
“Today we do not glorify war, but we do remember—and thank—those who have sacrificed so much for the countries and causes in which they believed. Furthermore, we remember with gratitude and compassion for the families and friends who have suffered because of war. Thank you, veterans—past and present—for what you have done for us all.”
–Mark Kelly
Click here to read this year’s story
