A Veterans Day Walk in the Park

Veterans Day was earlier this week—November 11th. I knew the holiday was approaching, but I hadn’t considered that the public schools would be closed. This meant that William, who is now in first grade, would be home for the day with his younger siblings, Henry and Rosanna.
Three kids at home isn’t a peaceful day, though we always make the most of it. Each morning, except for when it is pouring rain, we get dressed and head outdoors for a walk around town. We’ve met a lot of people this way. For example, there is Angelina, who works in the post office; Larry, who reads while sitting on a bench; and Salvador, who drives a food delivery truck.
William has been going on these daily walks since he was a toddler. Back then, we’d go as far as he could manage before turning back. By the age two, he was able to walk from our home to a small park in town. The total distance roundtrip is around a mile and a half.
The walk continued after Henry was born, although he had to ride in a stroller until he was strong enough to get to the park. Now, William and Henry lead the way, while Rosanna rides. Soon, she will be toddling her way around town too. It will be a bittersweet day when we retire the old stroller, and the whole family walks together to the park.
On Veteran’s Day, we set out for the park around 8:30 AM. William and Henry were at the front of our column, while Rosanna and I brought up the rear. As we walked, I couldn’t help but think about some of the Veteran’s we know, especially those who were drafted into the service.
The first that came to mind was my grandfather, Homer S. Hagenbuch (b. 1916), whom I called “Pop.” As my aunt Barb told me the other day, “If Dad were still alive, he’d be 110!” Pop was in one of the final groups to be drafted in World War II. In the early 1940s, he was a farmer with two, young children. By 1945, the United States Army needed more tank drivers for the planned invasion of Japan, and Pop had plenty of experience operating large machinery.
As my father, Mark, once described, “Pap Pap [Homer’s dad, Clarence] drove him to Harrisburg, where men were gathering for basic training. Dad said he cried on the trip there. He had never been so far from home.”
Pop was 28 years old. H was a farmer, a husband, and a father. Yet, in spite of his anxiety about what lay ahead, he did what was asked of him by his country. Of course, fate (and the atomic bomb) intervened. In August of 1955, Pop completed his training at Fort Knox, Kentucky as part of the 1st Armored Replacement Battalion, Company D. While awaiting his next orders, almost certainly to join the Allies in the Pacific, two atomic bombs were dropped on Japan. War War II ended, and Pop returned home. He was spared the horrors of war, though he had prepared himself to fulfill his duty.
My children never had the chance to meet their great grandfather, Homer. He died before they were born. Yet, there is another veteran they know very well, our friend Thomas S. Simonet, whom we call “Tom.” Recently, William chose to write about Tom for his Veterans Day school project.
In the mid-1960s, Tom was drafted by the Army during the Vietnam War. The 1960s were a divisive time, and Tom didn’t agree with the United States’ involvement in the conflict. Still, after thoughtful consideration (and a talk with his father!), Tom enlisted. We thanked him for his service on Veterans Day.
The decision to serve, or not to serve, is no walk in the park, especially when it appears in the form of draft notice. Thanks to our veterans, William got a day off school, and we were able to play together in the park. It was a quiet, peaceful day. Lest we forget the sacrifice that made it possible.




