If I have errands to run, I typically go out early before the rest of the City wakes up
and gets moving. There have been times I’ve even woken the rooster up to do his
morning duty. Because my PTSD manifests in my not enjoying being overly social
and chit chatty when I’m out and about doing everyday things everyday people do,
I usually put on my Air Force Veteran baseball cap, a pair of sunglasses and
pretend I’m in stealth mode. Because of that hat, people regularly say in passing,
“Thank you for your service” and I truly appreciate hearing it every time. Well,
except for one occasion when a lady grabbed my arm and stopped my momentum
to utter the phrase as I was walking into a local Food Lion.

I’ve noticed people will offer that phrase differently depending on the interaction.
I’ve heard some genuinely offer it in a respectful, reverent, and appreciative tone.
Others have lobbied it towards me as an automatic clichéd response because they
have nothing else in their verbal arsenal to fire. My favorite group are those who
offer it not just with hollow sounding words but with actions that demonstrate
they’re truly appreciative of the sacrifice you made in defense of their freedom.

As the saying goes, I can show you better than I can tell you, so let me give you an
example of people putting words into action. Back in March of this year, I reached
out to one of the co-owners of a local barbershop here in town, Above the Collar
Hair and Beard Bar, and we coordinated a free haircut event at our West End Plaza
Veterans facility. Since that event was such a success, and with the barbershop’s
continued commitment to showing love and appreciation to those who proudly
wore the uniform, the Veterans Social Center again partnered with them last
Sunday afternoon to offer another bigger free event at their 917 South Fulton St.
location. A few other businesses put their money where their mouth was and
joined in to show their appreciation to our local heroes. The West Innes St.
Domino’s Pizza location donated 10 large pepperoni pies, the Ride of Pride
Veterans Committee from the Daimler Freightliner truck plant in Cleveland rolled
in two massive military themed truck cabs, and the newly opened Clipper Addict
barbershop all verbalized their thank you sentiment via this altruistic offering to
Veterans.

They’re not the only ones who’ve walked the talk and thanked Veterans with their
unselfish generosity. I don’t have enough time or space to list those individuals
here and across the U.S. who’ve stepped up to honor those who raised their right
hand and took an oath to, “solemnly swear that I will support and defend the
Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I
will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the
President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me,
according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So, help me
God." Two local churches, Moore’s Chapel AME Zion Church and Antioch
Missionary Baptist Church have fed the souls and filled the stomachs of many
former military members at our facility with continuous donations of snack items,
paper and cleaning products and financial blessings.

Reflecting back nearly 40 years ago to that April night back in 1984, I was two
months shy of my 19th birthday, when my two closest friends, “Perk” and “Spoon”
drove me to the Charlotte airport to start my journey. As we toasted a lifelong
friendship and a new chapter in our tightly bonded lives that night in the lounge at
the airport, who knew we would each go on to forge individual paths as protectors
of freedom and democracy. I smile as I recall how the three of us went from
teenagers walking the streets of the West End eating Mama’s Pizza and Frankie’s
Chicken to holding top security clearances in the Air Force and Army a few years
later. I had no understanding of what awaited me once I got off the plane in San
Antonio. It was a culture shock going from a small town where you knew the rules
of the game to being jolted into a new reality. As quickly as that bus pulled through
the gates of the training base, you had someone in your face angrily controlling
your every thought and movement 24/7 for 8 weeks. As I laid down nervously in
my new bed that first night, I shed some tears, but not out of fear. I realized I was
no longer that kid from Salisbury.

I’m thankful for my service and I’m happy people are thankful I volunteered to
shed those tears.

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin is a member of the National Association of Black
Journalists.