Veterans Day 2010

One by one, they rose slowly from their chairs and told those gathered in a small meeting room their name and hometown, the branch and unit they served in, and the places they'd seen action. And as they did so, I felt my throat constrict out of deep respect for these aging men who served in World War II, Korea and Vietnam.

They wouldn't stand out in a crowd, these ordinary guys. Some wore hearing aids and one leaned on a cane; all had gray hair, most wore glasses and some had baseball caps. But each and every one spoke with pride as they recited their past affiliations -- Navy medical corps, Army engineers, 101st Airborne, Special Forces, 3rd Marine and more.

The occasion? Jack Estes, an ex-Marine and freelance writer whose work I've edited for The Oregonian, was reading from his essays during a special Veterans Day program at the Oregon Historical Society. I took an hour off from work yesterday to attend and I'm glad I did.

While others attended parades or took the holiday off, I felt privileged to be among the three dozen people there in the Madison Room, listening to Jack's war stories and looking over his shoulder onto a peaceful scene on the South Park Blocks. Clear skies, big shade trees with half their leaves gone, and the facade of the Portland Art Museum rising from the opposite block.

"This isn't church," Jack said during a quiet moment, "but when you're with a group of veterans there's something spiritual that happens."

Indeed. The bond among these men and the mutual respect they hold for each other is palpable. And while this a fraternity I'll never be a part of, I can salute their bravery and service to country.