Uncle Jim was not making up war stories

There are lots of people I think of as Memorial Day approaches, certainly relatives and in-laws who've passed on.

It's a long day for us by the time we finish putting out flowers. There is a large number of deceased.

We reflect on their lives as we visit the graves once again. But the people I think most of are those of the military, some who died in war and those who survived.

I was in the Air Force during Vietnam, and I had a cushy job. I never knew the danger real soldiers faced, and today I appreciate the fact that they did.

Yakima attorney J.J. Sandlin, who was in my class at Granger High and went on to the Naval Academy, flew numerous missions over Vietnam. He saw missiles that were fired at him, and fortune was on his side.

I once told him I sometimes felt like a shirker because I hadn't faced the danger he had. He said to forget that notion. No one should want to experience that danger.

There were lots of young men from the Yakima Valley who went to Vietnam. At one time Toppenish had the largest number of Vietnam deaths, per capita, of any city in the U.S.

The closest person to me to go to Southeast Asia was my brother Rich, who later made his life in Florida. Mom prayed for him every day. I was concerned about him, but I was confident he'd find his way through the danger, and he did.

Rich is nearing 63 now and undergoing treatments for prostate cancer. He's a battler. He takes his radiation, then heads to the golf course or work. He'll call on Memorial Day, or I'll call him, and we'll wish each other a good day.

Another Vietnam vet who is important to our family is Pat's brother Richard. Like my brother Rich, he was nicknamed Butch.

I didn't know Butch during the Vietnam years. I hadn't met Pat yet.

But Pat filled me in. He was right in the thick of it. He was at the DMZ during the now famous Tet Offensive. She marvels at the fact he survived.

Pat's family had no idea for some time. Instead of writing, Butch sent tape recordings home, and they didn't even hint at the danger. The family found out one day when they received the "wrong" tape.

One soldier who always comes to mind at Memorial time is Uncle Jim Franco, my mom's brother. A bachelor all of his life, he spent a lot of time around us. He was a rigid man who walked as if he were still marching - shoulders back, chin up.

Several times when my brothers and I were kids, Uncle Jim told us stories about fighting the Japanese in Alaska. We weren't sure they  were true.

First of all, we wondered who'd want to fight over Alaska. Secondly, Uncle Jim drank heavily sometimes, and that was usually when the stories came out.

"The Japanese planes flew so low we could see the holes where the bullets came out," he said.

Uncle Jim was 67 when he died in 1977. My brothers and I were all still young, and we were still wondering if he'd really lived those stories.

Fortunately, the History Channel, and a few others like it, came along. At reunions now, my brothers and I talk about how the History Channel tells the World War II story of Alaska about as well as Uncle Jim did.

To J.J, to the two Butches, to Uncle Jim, to veterans everywhere and to those who gave their lives, a hearty salute on this holiday that was set aside for you.