Many people gave me a bunch of “must-see” places in Colorado, but I had three different groups of friends to visit in and around the Denver area and wanted to spend most of time there. It would take over 8 hours drive from Santa Fe to Denver and I didn’t want to do it in one day. After many weeks on the road I am convinced that miles in fact get longer at the end of a long days drive. Somehow those last 60 miles end up taking as long to drive as the first 200 miles.  I’m not sure how it all works within the space-time continuum but if you take a long road trip, you will know this phenomenon is real.

The town of Pueblo was a good stopover and I found a great deal for a hotel room (but so far every price outside of San Francisco has pretty much been a great deal) Now I didn’t know anything about Pueblo, CO except that it was where you mailed your Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes entry form to (do they even do that anymore?) So the next morning over my free hotel-grade breakfast, I surfed the web for anything of interest in town before heading off to Denver. There was a Pueblo history museum, a small riverwalk downtown, and then I saw a place called The Center for American Values. Now I have always been a bit of a fish out of water for most of my life being a conservative and Christian in the Bay Area but even my inner San Franciscan raised an eyebrow a bit at the seemingly xenophobic title. I read on.  The Center was kind of a think-tank education extension where they hosted authors / military / scholars / ambassadors, etc. come to speak to students about the founding values of our nation and the wars that were fought to preserve them. The eyebrow came down as I was reminded that (outside the Bay Area) there are people who think America is still pretty darn awesome. What peaked my interest was the Center’s main feature: a photographic exhibit that one man had started years prior to take a photo of every still-living Medal of Honor recipient and get a quote from each of them to go with their picture. It sounded pretty interesting, and I definitely needed a cup of higher-grade coffee than the Holiday Inn provided, so I headed for downtown Pueblo.

A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces, but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.” – President John F. Kennedy, Jr.

The second thing I learned about Pueblo was that it was hometown to four Medal of Honor winners -the highest concentration of any town in the country. There was one whole wall in the Center for American Values that honored those four. Along the rest of the walls, the photos and quotes of the recipients were grouped chronologically by the wars they had served in. I started at the WWII section, figuring I would check out just a few, then grab a coffee on the riverwalk and hit the road. I ended up spending over two hours in that exhibit, looking at every face and reading every quote.  I have always loved war movies, especially those based on real people. The cinema makes the heroic that much more iconic and superhuman and I realized that is how I saw such men. But as I walked down the walls of photos I was struck by the simple (and obvious) fact that these were real men. Face after face, quote after quote, all the movies I’d seen and the history I’d read became grounded in a reality that was quite humbling. I grew even more sober about the high cost of freedom. As I was leaving, I asked the docent about one photo in particular that seemed odd. Each of the medal winners could pick what kind of setting/background they wanted in their photos and in this particular photo the veteran chose the image of a Nazi concentration camp for a backdrop. What stood out was that this veteran had earned his medal not in WWII but in the Vietnam War. The docent explained me that this veteran had been a child in a Nazi concentration camp in WWII when it was liberated by American soldiers. After that, all he wanted was to become an American citizen and to fight for others to be free. And he won the Medal of Honor doing just that. If you’re ever in Pueblo, you might want to check it out. You won’t be disappointed.

I got a decent cup of coffee and realized I had time for one last stop on my way to Denver. Someone told me I had to see the chapel at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. It was getting late and I was getting tired, but when I heard it would soon be closed for 4 years for restoration my inner FOMO kicked in and I set off for the Air Force Academy. I took the first exit I saw that said “USAF Southern Entrance” and found myself in a long line of cars inching our way through a security checkpoint (oh yeah, this wasn’t just any college). While I inched slowly along, I noticed the gorgeous mountain behind the gate so I rolled down my window and took some photos of it. Minutes later I got to the gate and a young soldier smiled and asked for my I.D. I handed over my driver’s license and she quickly informed me this was not a civilian entrance. Oh. The soldier turned around and handed my license to another solder behind her, then walked around and stood directly in front of my hood. I looked back at Soldier #2 who was looking at my license when a third soldier (this one armed and older) came out from the checkpoint booth. Soldier #3 spoke briefly to #2, and it was clear this older one was the man in charge. The man in charge was not only older but bigger than the other two and when he came over to me he towered over the MINI, the gun on his belt at eye level. He spoke in a very serious voice. “I noticed you were taking photos back there. Did you take any of the checkpoint, the security gate, or any personnel?” I swallowed and said no, just the mountain behind it, and did he want to check my iPhone? He took a minute to answer but it felt like an eternity — the movie moments where the camera pushes in to a close up of his squinty mean eyes, then pushes in to a close up of my terrified eyes, then his again. Finally he stepped back and head motioned for Soldier #2 (who still had my driver’s license) who then promptly disappeared around side of the checkpoint. Then he instructed me to make a U-turn where I would meet Soldier #2 on the other side. Soldier #1 moved out of the way of my hood and I slowly pulled forward, stalled (I kid you not) I restarted and as I made my turn these were the thoughts racing through my head: 

Oh crap they are going to search my car!.
Or worse, strip search me!
Man I hope they decide just to strip search me because it took me FOREVER to pack all my crap into the MINI this morning
Wait, you HOPE for a strip search? Now you sound like a pervert… a pervert they think is a potential terrorist!
Do I know any bail bondsmen? 

Soldier #2 was waiting for me. Be cool, don’t freak out, brace yourself!  And before I realized it he had handed back my license, turned and walked back to the booth. I just sat there and did a few big cartoon blinks. Wait, so… no one wants to look at my iPhone? Take a DNA swab? Do a cavity search? The soldier looked back at me, pointed towards the highway and said rather annoyed, “You want the northern entrance.” Got it. I went.

I managed to get to the chapel just minutes before closing, and as this was the military, there would be no fudging on closing time. As I walk-ran the half-mile path to get the chapel, I realized why people said I should see it. From the outside, it was both gothic and modern – like no chapel I had ever seen. Sharp, tall, stretching to the sky. And why was it called a chapel? It wasn’t some quaint little side building to gather in. It was ginormous! As I walked inside, I was the only one there (outside of an older lady/docent in the foyer). The place was breathtaking. The sun was setting, and light was streaming through the stained glass. It was glorious, and the pictures don’t do it justice. The colors of the stained glass get lighter back to front, designed to draw your attention to the altar/cross. The pews were designed with both old school wooden propellor imagery and with sleek metal lines representative of the modern Air Force. The entire place felt hallowed, and after walking the full length of it, I sat in a pew and prayed. I prayed for all the men and women who serve in our armed forces. I gave thanks for all the men whose pictures and words of wisdom I had spent the afternoon reading. I thought about all the students currently at the academy and prayed for them, too.

Just then a Big Officer came to lock up the chapel and as I didn’t want to get in any more trouble I hopped it quickly to the exit. As I did, the Big Officer informed me that all civilians are supposed to be off Academy grounds by 5pm (it was already 5pm and I still had a half mile path to walk back to my car). Great! They’ll find me wandering alone, call it in and realize I am the same chick caught surveilling the checkpoint. I’m going to Leavenworth.  The officer must have seen the fear cross my face and said, “If you come across security sweeping the grounds, just tell them, ‘Mike said it was okay for me to be here'” Um… really? A verbal name drop will keep me out of military prison? But I didn’t really have a choice. So I did my best to run-walk back to my car, and Bluebell and I made for the highway right quick.

As I drove my last hour to Denver I thought about my day. How I had spent the afternoon looking into the faces of very “ordinary” men, men who probably didn’t want to go to war, who never planned to be a hero. They simply made a choice to do was what called for. And I remembered that my pastor had been offered a full scholarship to the US Air Force Academy. He had wanted to go, but felt compelled to turn it down and chose to stay and help his ailing grandfather lead the church. How different a lot of lives would have been, how different my life would have been, had any of those veterans or their wives, or my pastor not answered their call.

I came when I was called, and I did the best I could. – John D. Hawk, Medal of Honor recipient

Whatever the call is for me in this next season of my life, I need only say yes and then do the best I can. That’s all any of us can do.