Mason

July 4, 2015

July 4 is here, and much like Memorial Day (see "The Pipes, the Pipes are Calling") I know this day means more than I can fathom to those who serve, those who served, those who have suffered loss on behalf of the country. This day may open old wounds or exacerbate the wounds still fresh; or maybe the gratitude of the nation and the barbecues and the flying bottle rockets make it all easier to bear. I don't know. What I do know, is these exceptional people are on my mind today.

In this picture stands the father of one of my dearest, lifelong friends. Jen (the bride) and Matt married in Santa Rosa ten years ago. Here Jen's dad, Mason, is toasting the happy couple. I've no memory of exactly what Mason said in these moments, but it was obviously funny. Mason was one of the quickest wits and smartest men I've ever known. His sensibility was effortless and understated. And his wife (Rose, on his left) and daughter were similarly crafted. I was lucky enough to spend an extraordinary amount of time in their house in high school and college, and it was always one of my favorite places to be.

Mason fought in Korea and nearly died saving a foxhole full of his fellow soldiers. He threw himself over and atop them and bore the brunt of the gunfire that rained down. He never told me any of this. I pried it out of Jen. But she knew very little, either. He wasn't about to talk about himself or his heroism. The leg brace he wore every day and the limp that plagued him were evidence of a story he was not at all interested in telling. 

Mason was much more interested in effortlessly amusing the rest of us. Or so it seemed. The more I learn about the wounds of war, I wonder how much he quietly suffered or covered the pain of his service with wisdom and laughter. I don't know. I doubt he would want me to wonder.

Mason became one of my father's dearest friends, and I loved watching my dad--who couldn't serve because of an ill-timed hernia--admire and love him. They were two strong grown men who clearly loved and respected each other. And Mason absolutely cracked Dad up, which is no small feat.

So it was very difficult when Mason grew more and more ill almost four years ago. He died in October 2011, just a few months after Jen's baby girl was born. Jen and her dad had a bond akin to that between my Pops and me. I knew the kind of pain she was in, and it broke my heart.

Jen asked me to speak at Mason's funeral. It was among the greatest honors of my life. He was a remarkable human being: for the life he lived, for the lives he saved. 

I walked by this picture this afternoon, which is prominently displayed next to the wine glasses we brought home from the one-of-the-best-weekends-of-my-life winery wedding. I stopped in my tracks. I have been struggling all day with how to give this day a little bit of my heart and my voice. Then I saw Mason, unassumingly bringing Jen's wedding his clever charm, and I knew. Just look at our faces. 

We live in a country that is a hot mess in a great many ways. But it is still worth defending and it is still worth celebrating. Happy Independence Day. I'm grateful this country is mine.

And Mason? I hope your walk is now unhindered and your wounds healed. And I know even heaven amuses you and you it. You are greatly missed.

PS--In the driveway, blowing stuff up for 'Merica!!!