The Real Action Heroes
A Memorial Day Discovery

By Amy J. Stoner

Pow! Thwack! My tiny action hero scored another conquest.

It was almost noon, but my room was still dark, illuminated by the flickering screen. I’d been playing Kingdom Warriors since I woke up.

“Jerry!”

Pow! With one kick, my hero shattered a door.

“Jerry! Answer me!”

Mom practically shattered my door and took the controller from my hand.

“Hey!”

“Young man, I’m tired of you ignoring me.”

“I didn’t hear…”

“Jerry, you’ve done nothing but play that game all weekend.” Rip! Zip! Up flew the window shades. “And I think it’s about time this computer moved to its new home in the family room.”

“Mom!” I clutched my eyes against the glaring sun. “What do you want?”

“I’m leaving for work. Supper’s in the crock pot. Grandpa’s dressed and ready to go. You’d better get moving. The parade starts in twenty minutes.”

Like a whirlwind, Mom was gone and I was sitting in a stunned sort of fog trying to figure it all out. Oh yeah. This is Memorial Day. I have to take Grandpa to the parade. Shoot!

I dressed, mumbling the whole time. Heading for the door, I tripped on a pile of dirty clothes and landed face to face with my homework folder. Another chore. Write 500 words about a war hero. What’s the point of having a long weekend if you don’t get to do anything you really want to do?

Grandpa was ready, slumped in his wheelchair, dozing. He was wearing his favorite red sweater, and his hat was tipped over one ear. Each blue-veined hand clutched a tiny American flag. I stared at him for a long moment while I debated skipping the whole thing. He probably wouldn’t remember anyway. But I knew Mom would find out somehow. And, after all, I’d promised.

By the time we got down to the corner and found a spot in the shade, the parade had started. Panting from pushing the wheelchair, I tried to look cool and uninterested as baton-twirling girls, candy-throwing clowns, and an Uncle Sam on stilts marched by. Grandpa was asleep again.

Sweating and bored, I noticed the fruit slushy stand on the next block. Grandpa was safe and it would only take a minute. I ordered an “electric blue” and joined a few of my friends in the alley, slurping slushies and comparing Kingdom Warrior scores.

The blare of a marching band jolted me back to reality. Grandpa! Pushing through the crowd, I could see the wheelchair…empty!

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that Grandpa had been getting on my nerves. Since his stroke, he could barely walk or talk and sometimes didn’t know who I was. Sometimes he even embarrassed me. But I do love him, and I didn’t want to lose him—or my neck when Mom got home!

I was reaching panic when I finally spotted Grandpa standing in the street. Phew! I had no idea how he’d gotten there, but I started to push my way through the crowd to rescue him.

A woman wearing a dress covered in watermelons was singing “God Bless America” while a bunch of old guys in uniforms marched down the street. All around me others joined the song. “World War II veterans,” someone beside me said.

To my surprise, I saw Grandpa’s lips moving. He was singing right along with the watermelon dress lady! He waved his two American flags out in front of him like a traffic cop. It worked. The veterans stopped right in front of him.

I thought they were going to yell at him for standing in the street. But they didn’t. All of them stood as straight as they could and saluted Grandpa—my Grandpa in the red sweater and the tipsy hat.

Grandpa stood straight too, smiling a crooked smile. I held my breath as, slowly, he lifted his hand in a wobbly salute.

Finally Grandpa turned toward me. He looked tired, but the smile was still on his face. I pushed his wheelchair out into the street and hugged him before he sat down. The band started playing again as Grandpa and I wheeled down the street with the rest of his veteran buddies. Except now they didn’t just look like old guys in uniforms anymore. They looked like heroes.

In my mind, I was already writing the first paragraph of my school report.

My friends and I play Kingdom Warriors, but my Grandpa and his friends were real warriors. For hours, we fight imaginary enemies, but during the war, they faced the real thing. We conquer unknown countries, but they set a country free. We pretend that we’re heroes…but they really are!

Memorial Day was originally known as Decoration Day, and was first celebrated on May 30, 1868. Citizens were asked to use flowers and wreaths to decorate the graves of soldiers who had died in the Civil War. Now Memorial Day is a national holiday, and is celebrated each year on the last Monday of May. Many communities hold parades and ceremonies to honor America’s war dead on this special day.