Memorial Day 2011

Staff Sgt. Sal Giunta

As Americans prepare to observe Memorial Day, I imagine there will be plenty of people who don't give much thought to the meaning of the holiday.

How I wish I could sit them down in front of a TV or a computer and have them watch a "60 Minutes" special that aired tonight: "Honoring Our Soldiers"

The first segment profiled Army Staff Sgt. Salvatore Giunta, a self-described "average" or "mediocre" soldier from Iowa who was awarded the Medal of Honor last November -- the nation's highest combat honor -- for his extreme bravery in a firefight with the Taliban in 2007 in Afghanistan's notoriously dangerous Korengal Valley.

The second segment took viewers to the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, where an Army captain and his troops at a small base are trying to hold their own against a relentless wave of insurgents, many of them foreign fighters who pour over the international border in one of the most hostile environments on the planet.

In both cases, you're left admiring the soldiers' professionalism and their absolute dedication to each other and their mission. You also can't help but plead for President Obama to pull the plug on our involvement there and bring the troops home. But for one night, those geopolitical considerations were secondary to Sgt. Giunta's story and what it depicts about the courage and heroism that spring up in the most ordinary of American servicemen.

Giunta was a teenager working as a "sandwich artist" at a Subway shop when he decided to enlist. Four years later, he ran directly into enemy fire at close range to drag a wounded sergeant to safety and then ran back a second time to kill a Taliban insurgent and prevent another wounded soldier from being taken captive.

For his actions, Giunta became the first living American soldier since Vietnam to receive the Medal of Honor. And yet he comes across as the most humble person you'd ever want to meet, insisting he had done nothing special and was, in fact, uncomfortable being singled out.

"This is only one moment," he said in the interview. "I don't think I did anything that anyone else I was with wouldn't have done. I was in a position to do it. That was what needed to be done. So that's what I did."

Of course, I thought of my son Jordan and his buddies. This weekend, they're away from base, in the midst of three weeks of field training designed to prepare them for deployment if and when it ever comes. I understand that Jordan wants to put his military training to use -- it's only natural to want to follow through and test yourself on the things you've practiced over and over. But as a father, I pray he never has to be put in harm's way.

If that day comes, I'm confident he'll serve honorably. For me, it's not that much of a stretch to see that Spec. Jordan Rede has a lot of the same qualities and values as Staff Sgt. Sal Giunta: Humility. Loyalty. Dedication to the team and the task at hand.

I'm equally confident that parents all over this country would say the same about their own son or daughter serving in today's volunteer Army.

Lori and the three amigos

Jordan, Lori & Nathan

A year ago, Lori and I went over to Simone and Kyndall's place in North Portland to celebrate Mother's Day with a backyard brunch on a warm, sunny day. Nathan joined us but Jordan and Jamie weren't able to, as they were stationed in El Paso then.

Today it was a different lineup, but one that I think we'll remember for a long time: Lori, our two sons and me. The three amigos.

I'd invited Nathan and his girlfriend over to our place for brunch but she understandably declined in order to spend time with her mom, who also lives in the area. Then, on Friday we got confirmation that Jordan was going to be able to drive down from Olympia, where he and Jamie now live, although she was going to have to miss the gathering in order to work Sunday (today).

Jordan arrived in time Saturday for us to walk to dinner for one of his favorite meals: a chicken burrito from Chipotle. (What can I say? The guy knows what he likes.) He went out that night to see Nathan at Holocene, the night club where he works the door and sometimes DJs, so it was good they had Bro Time, considering how seldom they're able to see each other.

Around noon we sat down to a delicious brunch: spinach/sun-dried tomato frittata; wild mushroom mix with butter lettuce and pine nuts; mixed greens with orange wedges and a citrus dressing.

On a day when we honor the women who give us life and raise us, it was wonderful to see Lori positively beaming. We absolutely missed Simone and Kyndall (though we did talk to our daughter this morning), as well as Sara and Jamie. But seeing a mom with her two sons was pretty special. Throw in the ol' hubby and there was a lot of testosterone at the table. And a burp or two.

Nathan, George & Jordan

Lori and I always marvel at how wildly different our three children are. (And, come to think of it, how wildly different their significant others are from each other, too. But I suppose that makes sense.

All I know is that as a husband and father, nothing makes me happier than seeing my wife bask in the love and attention of our children. As the saying goes, she'd take a bullet for any of them.

Cinco de Mayo 2011

The ferris wheel and other rides are up and ready for the crowds that will celebrate Cinco de Mayo today and through the weekend at Waterfront Park.

The beer commercials on TV and print are advertising specials to draw in customers for their drink-a-thons.

And here I am, once again thinking of how this day isn't about a hijacked Mexican holiday for me. Rather, it's a celebration of the day when Jordan, our youngest son, came into our lives when we adopted him on May 5, 1988, when he was a little over four months old.

I scrolled back through the archives and found what I wrote about him and this day two years ago. Don't think I can say it any better than this, so here's an encore: "Another reason to celebrate Cinco de Mayo"

Since then, Jordan Emilio has joined the Army, gotten engaged and married, been assigned to Fort Bliss in El Paso and gotten a transfer to Joint Base McChord-Lewis near Olympia, Wash., where he's stationed now, about 100 miles north of us.

The photo? Taken at Lost Creek in November 2009, the day he married Jamie outside Medford, Oregon.

A wiffle ball and Easter dinner

Huh? What possible connection could there be between a perforated, hard-plastic white ball and a Christian holy day?

In my mind, it comes down to reminiscing about my youngest son Saturday and then having a late dinner with him on Sunday.

After work Saturday, Lori suggested we take a walk to the neighborhood park so Otto could run around with other dogs. As we were getting ready to leave, I spotted a wiffle ball in the grass. I tossed it to Lori. She caught it and tossed it back. Just like that, we had an impromptu game of catch. A few throws into the game, I tossed one straight up in the air, mimicking a pop fly.

"Know what this reminds me of?" I said. "When Jordan was little, we'd play catch on the front lawn and  he used to love it when I'd throw it as high as I could. He'd settle under it and catch it nearly every time."

Easter came the next day. Lori and I had plans to go to an early dinner by ourselves. We canceled our reservations, however, when we learned that Jordan and Jamie were going to be passing through Portland a little earlier than anticipated. They'd gone down to southern Oregon to visit with Jamie's family and were headed back to their home in Olympia.

They were set on driving through so Jamie could report to work on time Monday morning, but they arrived in Portland with enough time to join us for dinner at a neighborhood restaurant. So, for a couple of hours we had a chance to catch up on what's new in their lives since we last saw Jordan at year's end. Topics: military life, household chores, tattoos, pets, parents, siblings and much more.

The "South Park" boys: Kyle, Kenny, Cartman and Stan

I'll spare the details but share one thing that made us laugh. Among the soldiers in his unit, Jordan is nicknamed "Hippie" -- which, he said, tells you how conservative the rest of them are. How ironic! In our liberal family, Jordan's views on politics and social issues are the most moderate, occasionally veering toward right of center. And as a regular watcher of "South Park," he used to howl at the caricatures of clueless hippies portrayed on that irreverent television show.

Looking at him across the table, with his high-and-tight military haircut and taut biceps, I felt a sense of pride at seeing how well he and Jamie are doing as a young married couple. But Jordan a hippie? No way.

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.

Getting ready for Christmas

There's a new presence in our living room: our first-ever Noble Fir after years and years of Douglas Firs.

I guess that's appropriate because we're celebrating our first Christmas in our new home. And, in what might be a sign of things to come, we traveled a whole ten blocks from our home to buy our tree from a small commercial operation in a parking lot. Took about 20-25 minutes total to pick a tree, pay for it, get it tied to the rooftop and drive home -- a far cry from the half-day excursions we typically make to the fringes of Portland's urban growth boundary, requiring a few gallons of gas and a lunch stop. (Hey, with adult kids in tow, of course you're going to make time for a mid-day meal.)

Anyway, we bought the tree Saturday and had it decorated that same evening. Along with a string of Christmas lights and a stuffed snowman looking out onto the street, we're ready for the holidays.

Fact of the day: Oregon remains No. 1 in U.S. production of Christmas trees with 7.34 million trees sold last year at a value of nearly $110 million. Source: Oregon Department of Agriculture.