Shake

The old war veteran stood alone silently at the small memorial, remembering.

It was a quiet spot in their town. It was something he did each year. It wasn’t Memorial Day, but a date that was meaningful to him. He thought about the people he knew back then, what they did, what they sacrificed. Some of them had passed away, others not. Men mostly; what a mixed bunch they were, coming from all walks of life. He thought about how their considerations about what was going on around them had varied greatly. Most of his comrades had understood the sacrifice that they were all making, and the reason they were making it. He had met so many people during that time in his life, but could only remember a few.

He opened his eyes as the sound of footsteps came closer.

The boy, around fifteen years old, was suddenly at his side, looking at the monument.

The man turned and said, “Good morning, son.”

The boy just nodded. “You might not like it, but I think war is stupid. It just gets people killed.” He looked up at the edifice. “We don’t need things like this to remind us of how dumb we are.”

“Is that right?”

“It certainly is. I’ve been on anti-war demonstrations, and I think it’s stupid,” he repeated.

The old man nodded with a smile. “Do you know what democracy is.”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s good. You’ll know then, that it means it’s about people who live in a country, like us, who govern themselves by electing those that they want to make decisions for them.”

The boy nodded with a grin. “Yes, I guess I knew all that.”

The old man pointed at the memorial. “Those that fought in the war were doing that so you could have the democratic right to say what you did, when you arrived.”

The boy gave a small shrug. “OK. I guess.”

A handshake had always meant a great deal to the old man, which was why he raised his arm.

After a moment, the boy took his hand and shook it. Then, with a smile, he went on his way.