Let Veterans Day return to patriotism

A woman phones to tell the story of Sergeant Zachary Tellier, killed in Afghanistan in September, a hero who five months before his death, was injured while saving the lives of two soldiers trapped in the back of a burning Humvee. "He went through that fire and pulled them both to safety," Rosemary Haddad says.

Her boy, Greg, also part of the 82d Airborne, was home on an 18-day leave when Tellier was shot. The 18 days flew by. She made mashed potatoes and meatloaf and chicken parmigiana, hugged him constantly and smiled every time she saw him sitting on the couch with the remote.

Greg learned about his unit being attacked, and his friend's death, on TV. If he hadn't been home, he'd have been with them. Now he's gone back to Afghanistan, and it's hard, his mother says. Sometimes a terrible fear washes over her.

The day he landed in Boston, the pilot asked that everyone remain seated because, he announced, "There is a special passenger on board."

"Mom, it turned out it was me!" Greg said later. A full plane of people clapped and those who could shook his hand.

When he was leaving to return to his tour of duty, there were more thank-yous and handshakes from strangers. "One woman even thanked me," his mother recalls.

One on one, Americans are like this - good, caring, appreciative, sometimes even selfless.

So how is it we have made such a mess of Veterans Day?

It's supposed to be a time to remember the men and women who fought in war, who sacrificed their youth, their health, and sometimes their lives, because their country asked.

It's supposed to be solemn, for at least a little while.

And for some, it is. But for too many of us in the United States, it's become something else.

In Canada, the UK, and Australia, children and adults wear poppies on their lapels, a tradition that dates back to the end of World War I, when poppies bloomed in Belgium and Northern France, the seeds long dormant, churned up by battle, the killing fields suddenly and incongruously bursting with life.

And in Canada, the UK, and Australia there is at 11 o'clock, on the 11th day of the 11th month, silence. Everything stops: cars, buses, pedestrians, music, cellphones, conversation, in some places for one minute, in some places for two.

But here at home, Veterans Day is more about shopping than it is remembering. One-day sales. Don't miss out.

I read in USA Today that it takes 65 hours to recite aloud the more than 58,000 names inscribed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial wall in Washington.

The readings began Wednesday. They ended last night. But who listened?

Across the country, there are memorials and services today. But who attends?

After Sept. 11, the American people wanted to sacrifice, to join together, to do something to safeguard this country.

And our president said, "Go to the malls." He repeated this advice last year at a December press conference as the war escalated. "Go shopping more."

That's patriotism, today, US-style. Which is why there are flags flying not just in cemeteries, but in car dealerships up and down Route 1 and all over this country.

I love my country. It's like no other place, as diverse as it is big. You go to the farmers market in Kansas City - I was there last week - and you see not cookie-cutter people, but people from India and Pakistan and Mexico and Italy and Vietnam and Greece and Egypt. And it's wonderful.

The people are good. The land is beautiful. But we have lost our focus.

USA Today has a list of the top 150 books Americans are reading. "What Was Asked of Us: An Oral History of the Iraq War by the Soldiers Who Fought It," isn't one. It's in paperback. If you do go shopping today, buy it, then go home and read it.

As many of my readers have pointed out, my last column failed to note that the vast majority of the people killed in Hitler's camps were Jewish. This was a mistake on my part, and I apologize for omitting this important fact.

Beverly Beckham can be reached at bbeckham@globe.com.