I experienced a new manifestation of a feeling I have had for a while.
I was in a large warehouse store the other day (red letters, rhymes with “bostco”) and I was waiting to check out. A gentleman walked by, a little older than I am, a little shorter than I am, dark complexion, with a splash of gray at his temples. He was walking with a purpose (he was a vet, I’ll tell you that right now. most vets walk with a purpose, unless they are on the golf course, but that’s another story…) and it wasn’t his coloring or his facial features that I noticed first – it was his ballcap. It was black, and along the side of the bill was stitched, in very small letters, “RANGER.”
“Ah,” I thought to myself. “A Ranger. Tough birds, those Rangers.”
Then I saw the tatto on his right upper arm.
2nd Btn Viet Nam 1966 1969
A rare bird, indeed.
Under his tatoo, the parachute insignia. Airborne Ranger.
Very, very rare bird.
I caught myself tearing up. I actually had a Tear of Pride in my eye – from seeing this complete stranger walk by with the earmarks of a distinguished and challenging service record.
TMBWitW looked at me, glanced where I was looking, and asked “Ranger? Isn’t that one of the elite?”
“Yup.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying. I’ve got a Tear of Pride in my eye. Marines can have a single Tear of Pride; it’s in the code.”
“I think I need to see a written version of this code.”
“They don’t write it on paper, they write it on your heart. That way you can’t lose it.”
Just then Ranger walked back by, behind us, and commented on my red shirt. I thanked him for his service, and said “Welcome Home.”
He nodded back, and as he turned away I could see he had his Tear of Pride in his eye.