A post-Open reminder that freedom isn’t free

I landed in Kansas City following a week attending the 2014 U.S. Open. I was feeling proud of the coverage Golfdom delivered to subscribers of our e-newsletters. There could always be more, but for the most part, I was self-satisfied.

As we were taxiing to our gate, a voice came over the intercom. My headphones were playing, and I was just waking up. I figured it was the typical stuff: outside temperature, baggage claim, connection information.

But I could tell something was a bit off, maybe because I noticed people started looking around. I popped out my earphones in time to catch the last part: please stay in your seats.

I looked outside my window down to the Tarmac. There was a family. There were a dozen members of the military. And there was a hearse.

Once we pulled up to the gate, everyone remained seated. The deceased soldier on our flight had been escorted by one of his or her colleagues, and was the first to get off. As soon as the soldier was off the plane, the rest of us started shuffling off.

As I approached the door, I could hear who I assume was the soldier’s grandmother, wailing. It was an awful sound and it made my stomach drop. Any sense of pride I had of a job well done at Pinehurst was gone. Oh, so I got up at 4 a.m. to get photos of the crew one day? That’s what I did for my job? This brave soldier died doing his or her job… And his or her job allows me the freedom to do my job.

I felt about two inches tall.

As everyone came off the plane, we all quietly lined up along the windows, watching the military procession of the soldiers serving as pallbearers for their fallen comrade. It was a somber sight. A coffin draped in the U.S. flag slowly rolled down a conveyor belt. The family struggled to hold each other upright. This was not the way he or she was supposed to return home.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the terminal. Everyone went from worrying about getting to wherever they were going to just being thankful they were still able to make that journey.

Fast forward two weeks, and I’m on my way to our corporate headquarters in Cleveland. I had to connect through Baltimore. As I came off my flight, I noticed the sound of fading applause. Some uniformed soldiers had just passed through the terminal, and applause was rightfully following them down the corridor.

I stopped by the restroom. On the way out — and this really happened — a guy stepped in front of me, wearing a T-shirt that read, “Not all of us get to be heroes. Some of us have to stand on the curb and applaud as they pass by.” The quote was attributed to Will Rogers.

I shook my head in disbelief at the perfect timing of this guy’s choice of T-shirts for the day. What a random quote for a T-shirt. Yet it struck me as so profound that day.

Whenever I’m having a bad day at work, I remind myself of the scene I saw at the Kansas City Airport. It reminds me that my bad day — a typo, a reader complaint — is nothing like what our soldiers deal with. So buck up.

My work at the U.S. Open might not have saved any lives or protected any freedoms, but I was proud to do it. And I’m proud to stand on the curb to applaud the men and women of our military who allow me the freedom to do my job.

Photo: marsmet461 / Foter / Creative Commons