May/June 2025 (Volume 17, Issue 3)

 

By Arvid Huisman

 

Mile marker 161. He was making better time than he had anticipated. At this rate he could be home by 8 p.m. It had been a long trip to visit an elderly family member in Kansas and he was looking forward to getting home to Gwen.

 

Mile marker 162. This was his old stomping grounds. Though he no longer had family in the area, the familiar landscape gave him a sense of peace.

 

Mile marker 163. He thought about childhood friends and how few still lived in the area. In particular, he remembered Larry. They had gone to school together since second grade and were best friends. Larry was the guy in the class who would do anything for a laugh. 

 

Mile marker 164. Larry was liked by nearly everyone who knew him. When a new kid moved to their small farm town their freshman year it was Larry who quickly befriended him and introduced him around. The new guy quickly became a part of their crowd. 

 

Mile marker 165. It was Larry who introduced him to his wife. Larry’s cousin, Gwen, was visiting from a small town in Minnesota when Larry suggested a double-date. One thing led to another and a few years later it led to matrimony.

 

Mile marker 166. High school graduation. He remembered how Larry had bear-hugged the principal when he received his diploma. Back in the 1960s you just didn’t do stuff like that. But Larry did. As the receiving line was breaking up he and Larry pledged to keep in touch. He was heading off to college and Larry had already enlisted in the U.S. Marines. Larry wanted to be one of the few and the proud.

 

 

Mile marker 167. When Larry was home on furlough they got together on the Saturday night before he shipped out to Vietnam. They sat up until dawn Sunday morning reminiscing and talking about the future. Larry had given him a bear hug when they said good-bye. They promised to write regularly.

 

Mile marker 168. The letters from Larry became sporadic. When he did write, Larry tried to appear upbeat but it was obvious that Nam was no picnic. Larry wrote about hungry children and losing friends in battle. Each letter bore a sense of melancholy.

 

Mile marker 169. Then came the dreadful phone call from home. Larry’s parents had been notified their son was killed in an ambush at Hue. He remembered crying himself to sleep that night, the first time he had done so since he was homesick at camp 12 years earlier. 

 

Mile marker 170. He had never forgotten Larry, but life had moved on and with his job and family responsibilities Larry’s memory had slipped into the background. Now he was retired. He wondered what Larry would have done for a career and what kind of family he would have had. Larry would have been a great father, he thought. He’d be an even better grandfather.

 

Mile marker 171. To his left he saw the white wood frame country church where Larry’s funeral was held. He remembered the incredibly sad notes of “Taps,” and the anguish of watching Larry’s parents mourn the loss of their son. Larry was buried in the cemetery just south of the church.

 

Mile marker 172. The next exit was just a mile away. 

 

Exit 173. He pulled off the interstate and followed a gravel road back to the church he had seen from the highway minutes earlier. He pulled into the empty parking lot and made his way to the cemetery where, after as brief search, he found Larry’s grave.

 

Falling to one knee, he touched the headstone as he recalled the good times they had experienced. His forefinger began to trace the engraving of Larry’s name and he recalled what a great friend Larry was. If it wasn’t for Larry he would have never met Gwen. If it wasn’t for Larry … he thought of all the things Larry had done for him over the years. And in one last ultimate sacrifice, Larry had given his life for his country. 

 

At a truck stop earlier in the day he had bought a silk rose for Gwen. She would understand. He gently laid the rose on Larry’s grave and whispered, “This is from both of us. Thanks, Buddy.”  

 

Exit 174. Some memorial days are not planned.

 

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