We ran into Secretary of State Mark Ritchie in Rochester this weekend, and he gave us a spiel about the SOS office's "Vote in Honor of a Veteran" campaign while handing us a button and a sharpie. Here's the writ-up from the web site:
Remembering Those Who Protected Our Freedom and Voting to Honor Their Service
Our right to vote has been defended by the courage and sacrifice of the many brave men and women who served in our nation's armed forces. Anyone who has someone in their family or a friend in the armed forces understands the dedication and patriotism demonstrated by these men and women in defense of our freedom and liberty.
During this election year, the Office of the Secretary of State's "Vote in Honor of a Veteran" initiative will provide Minnesotans an opportunity to demonstrate their pride in a veteran who is a family member or close friend.
To participate in this initiative, click on the link listed below. The link will forward you to a fulfillment company that will request information from you to complete your order. Upon receipt of your "Vote in Honor of a Veteran" button, personalize it by writing the name of your close friend or family member that is a veteran you wish to honor. We encourage you to wear the button throughout the election season, especially on Election Day. By doing so, you are raising awareness in others about the importance of voting and highlighting the bond between our veterans and our democracy.
Please join the Office of the Secretary of State in encouraging others to vote in honor of a veteran.
Click here to order your button today or call (651) 201-1374.
While there are many veterans among our relatives and friends, I wrote down the name of a childhood favorite, Troy, who joined the family by marrying our aunt Johanna.
Troy was probably the first person who introduced us to the delights of the English language. He grew up in a Mankato boarding house operated by his father after he retired from cooking for wild west shows. Most of the boarders were American Indians who developed a taste for his food on the road.
We remember seeing a picture of Troy as a toddler, surrounded by family and the mostly Lakota boarders assembled on the front porch, his Little Lord Fauntleroy suit in sharp contrast to the clothing of the adults around him. Somewhere in that boarding house, Troy picked up the gift of gab and an incredible, almost native, sense of humor.
Troy and his brothers left the hard scrabble world of Depression-era Mankato to fight in world War II; he fought as an infantry man in the Pacific. He filled his stories of fighting the Japanese with vivid details. In one memorable tale, he and his fellow soldiers had trapped Japanese fighters in a bunker. They asked them to surrender, but the doomed men refused, although they asked for American cigarettes, Troy said. The Americans granted the request, then did what they had to do, but Troy never let us forget the guys he had to kill were people.
When he returned to Mankato, he eventually went to work in the old Continental Can plant, where he helped organize a union because of the treatment he and other vets received at the hands of management. "The bosses would whistle to us like we were dogs," he once told us. " I didn't fight a war to let anybody treat me like that."
Troy left the plant to begin working as a stone mason and bricklayer, and took great pride and humor in his craftsmanship and union. He was the first person to tell us that there was only one thing a guy needed to know to be a plumber, and that was what doesn't flow uphill. "When something stinks, kiddo, look to the top," he said, "don't blame the guy at the bottom of the pipe."
We learned storytelling and organizing from his stories; he died after a long battle with cancer, a fight in which he kept everyone laughing, even at his own failing body.
This country would be a lesser (and certainly less funny) place without people like him. We can all honor that very American combination of courage and humor by voting.
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