While I could talk today about my grandfather William Zillman, and how he led heavy artillery in the liberation of France during the Great War, or about my uncle Harold Kingdon, who won his Purple Heart during his service in WW II to punish those in Nuremburg for their war crimes and was part of the liberation of Paris, my choice is to bring to light my older brother Ron, who served when called upon to enter Hell’s cauldron at the height of the war in Vietnam in the late 60s – an example of his unquestioning and humble service to the country. You can’t get him to talk much about those years, but I know it wasn’t pretty. I was on a college deferral for those years, and of course my lottery number was very high, so I escaped the Cornelian decision of whether or not to serve in that controversial war. Ron just buckled down and did it, and I remember well that Mom and Dad were very proud of him when they drove their son down South for basic training, and we all visited Arlington Cemetery.
From early on, Ron has always spontaneously shown his charitable nature. He’s always ready with a joke, just like his grandfather. Always ready to don a Santa Claus suit to make some kids happy, and always shows up with a present or a homemade dish (he is a fantastic baker!), no matter the personal cost. For years I have seen him really helping out those struggling with drug problems, homeless issues, or broken families. He freely lends money or a meal to those in need. Many of my hardest career or financial decisions over the years have been guided by my phone calls with Ron. Quite a turnaround from childhood jealousy and petty fights!
The clearest example of his merit currently is how in these later years Ron has inherited the duty of Principal Care Giver to my mother, who is now over 100. Even while she is well-tended in a professional care facility, the tasks to make her comfortable are endless. He deals with the emergency phone calls, bookwork and administrative red tape, he takes home Mom’s laundry (they boil and ruin everything if you don’t watch it), he makes almost daily visits to Mom which for him involve over one and a half hours of driving – in rain, snow, or darkness – and brings her fresh cookies or fruit. Now that Mom is in the last stages of her life, he shares meals with her, which amounts to spoon-feeding her. He takes her down the hall or outdoors, every visit, and sits through the “activities” with her, although it’s harder and harder for her to participate. Of course she loves music, so Ron has set up the CD player for hours of sharing. And in the latest development, now that she can’t grasp the telephone, he makes appointments with me so that I can still call Mom every day, and he holds the receiver for her while we chatter on, until we say good-bye.
I’ve seen other cases where a care-giver, especially in their 70s, is so over-wrought that their personal life or their health or mental well-being is in danger. I warn Ron constantly about this. He says he has a philosophy that “everything in life works out for the best.”
But clearly, Ron makes it happen, for he actively and generously participates in life and gives until it hurts, in order that “everything works out for the best.” I’m proud that he’s my brother, and my salute to this Veteran is long overdue.
