B. L. Marchant
- my viewpoint
I come from a long line of Veterans, including my great-uncle who was the first Miamian (FL) to be killed in WWI. I've been given Honorary Life Membership to the American Legion Post in Miami named after him. My father served during WWII as a part of the Army's Big Red One. The list goes on. I've been both a Navy enlisted and Navy Officer wife. I'm an Army widow from the Vietnam era.
I passed an extensive background check upon my engagement to the Navy Officer who had a very high-ranking security clearance. I followed military base rules in Hawaii and Alaska precisely, and in every way possible, was scrutinized as if I were the service member himself. I studied every book I could get my hands on to learn military etiquette and protocol resulting in compliments from Admirals and more.
But, there is no special DD-214 for veteran's dependents. It makes no difference that I stood tall in the reception line on the deck of a Japanese ship visiting Pearl Harbor and shook hands with its Captain. I represented the U.S. Navy and the ship my spouse was attached to. I took my position very seriously.
It's ironic that even with all my experience with deployments, conversations with service men wearing more scrambled eggs on their caps than could hardly fit on that shiny black brim, and my steadfast patriotism, that as someone who has not served myself, once my spouse became a veteran, I was left on my own for medical benefits and feeling that all I've done, learned and experienced meant nothing. My personal pride remains, regardless.
I'm not alone in this frustration, I know. I appreciate each of you who has e-mailed or stopped me on the sidewalks and in the markets to compliment this column. It means a great deal to me.
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Gilmore-Marchant
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