This is my traditional post for Veteran’s Day.

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918, World War I ended. This day became known as “Armistice Day.” In 1921, an unknown World War I American soldier was buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Similarly, unknown soldiers had been buried in England at Westminster Abbey and at France at the Arc de Triomphe. All of these memorials took place on November 11th to commemorate the end of the “war to end all wars.”

In 1926, Congress resolved to officially call November 11th Armistice Day. Then in 1938, the day was named a national holiday. Soon afterwords war broke out in Europe and World War II began.

Soon after the end of World War II, a veteran of that war named Raymond Weeks organized “National Veterans Day” with a parade and festivities to honor all veterans. He chose to hold this on Armistice Day. Thus began annual observances of a day to honor all veterans not just the end of World War I. In 1954, Congress officially passed and President Eisenhower signed a bill proclaiming November 11 as Veteran’s Day. Due to his part in the creation of this national holiday, Raymond Weeks received the Presidential Citizens Medal from President Reagan in November 1982.

In 1968, Congress changed the national commemoration of Veterans Day to the fourth Monday in October. However, the significance of November 11 was such that the changed date never really got established. In 1978, Congress returned the observance of Veterans Day to its traditional date.

National ceremonies commemorating Veterans Day occur each year at the the memorial amphitheater built around the Tomb of the Unknowns. At 11 AM on November 11, a color guard representing all military services executes “Present Arms” at the tomb. Then the presidential wreath is laid upon the tomb. Finally, the bugler plays taps.

Each Veterans Day should be a time when Americans stop and remember the brave men and women who have risked their lives for the United States of America. As Dwight Eisenhower said, “…it is well for us to pause, to acknowledge our debt to those who paid so large a share of freedom’s price. As we stand here in grateful remembrance of the veterans’ contributions we renew our conviction of individual responsibility to live in ways that support the eternal truths upon which our Nation is founded, and from which flows all its strength and all its greatness.”

The morning is cloudy, even a bit grim. It is in the mid 50’s, warmish for November, but the next few nights will be winter cold, down to the 30’s. I’ve put the blanket on my bed, a surrender, an acknowledgement to winter.

My kitchen floor is covered with muddy paw prints. Clumps of dog hair fly into the air when I walk down the hall. I ignore it all. My sloth instinct is strong.

When I was a kid, we always had turkey for both Thanksgiving and Christmas and at no other time of year. We ate turkey for days. We started with the big bird on the holiday, then, for supper, we’d have open turkey sandwiches with gravy and the rest of the fixings on the side. Sandwiches were next. The bread was always toasted, and on the turkey was usually stuffing and cranberry sauce and mayo or butter. I loved those sandwiches. Turkey salad, made with the meat my father stripped from the bone, was the next incarnation. The last of the turkey became soup made from the carcass. By then we were trukeyed out.

I had an aunt who was a nun. For most of my childhood, we saw her once a year, an obligatory visit. She lived in Connecticut. We were always dressed in our church clothes for the visit. We stopped once on the way. I remember the building was brick and close to where we were going. We went to the bathroom where my mother made sure we were all nun ready. The visit never changed from year to every year. We sat in the parlor. When she joined us, she looked formidable in her habit. Her questions seldom varied. She wanted to know how school was and what our favorite subjects were. During the visit, another nun would arrive with cookies and soft drinks. At some point we’d walk to the school to see my aunt’s classroom. That was it, the whole visit. I always thought once a year was too often.