I’ve noticed a common misconception among the general population every year, seemingly without fail, about military holidays in the United States. So here is a brief explanation. There are three: Armed Forces Day, Memorial Day, and Veteran’s Day, which coincides with Armistice Day. Each has its own unique meaning and cultural practices. Armed Forces Day celebrates all Armed Forces currently serving, Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for our war dead, and Veteran’s Day celebrates the service of all Veterans alive and dead. Veteran’s Day is observed on the 11th day of the 11th month, sharing the date with Armistice Day.

Saying, “Happy Memorial Day” is not appropriate (ever). Alternatively, wishing someone a safe Memorial Day is fine. “Happy Veteran’s Day” is fine, but maybe not while standing at a War Memorial.

When you visit war memorials on Veteran’s Day, it presents a mix of Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day remembrance that can be confusing for some and emotional for others.

The decision for my class to visit the memorials on Veteran’s Day in DC during the week that was also the 100th anniversary of the Tomb of the Unknown without requesting input from student Veterans and Military Community members in the class was a missed opportunity to explore cultural heritage directly with those who have agency as stakeholders. At a minimum, the class stakeholders should have been consulted about how they felt about the plan. One stakeholder expressed to me that they were very uncomfortable.

I had highly mixed emotions about it. I debated if I should internalize my emotional state for the comfort of others or recognize what I was feeling; after all, the likelihood of me being in DC anytime soon is very low. The likelihood of me being there for one of the holidays is minuscule.

I asked myself a lot of questions.

How much would I regret going through the day without setting a place for Veteran friends and family that are no longer with us due to old age, Agent Orange, or from the toll that war took on their hearts for which they only found respite in death?

Given that remembrance is something that I do privately or only in the company of Veterans, how embarrassing would I find taking such action in front of civilians that hardly know me?

Would that embarrassment cause me more or less harm than putting on a happy face and pretending things were okay?

I debated all of this up until lunch when I knew that, at a minimum, I had to have the supplies needed in case I felt like I had to set a Solder’s Table. I managed to find everything but the rose by the time I got in a cab to head back and meet up with the class. I asked the cab driver if he knew where I could find one because “it’s really important, man.” He asked why and I explained the table. At that point, we introduced ourselves to each other, and Rob, a DC native that didn’t serve himself, told me he had seen those tables at remembrances for friends and that we were “gonna find that rose.” He stopped the meter, whipped out his phone, and started searching for places that had flowers. The first two were strikeouts, but the third-place had them.

As we drove, I told him why I was in DC and he told me about growing up in DC and a neighborhood near the Capital Building where his Grandmother lived that is no longer there because they put federal buildings on top of it. He kept a close eye on the clock because I had told him what time I needed to meet up with the class. When he dropped me off, he told me to leave the trash from my purchases, and I gave him a big thanks and twice the cash he requested. He made what was an awkward and emotional shopping experience into a fun personal oral-history filled adventure. But I still wasn’t sure if I would use what I bought, which I had hidden by stuffing it into my backpack. Hence the detritus in the back of the cab.

Most are unaware that Women make up less than 20% of service members, and that Veteran’s Day often reminds us of our minority status. For example, we are left out of public thanks, and female representation is less seen in the day’s decorations. Veterans joke about where we will get our free meal, but for female Veterans, it is often awkward as we have to make a point of asking for the menu. I’ve had wait staff look me in the face and say, “It’s only for Veterans.”

Our exclusion is so pervasive that my Husband went out and bought me a hat that said Woman Veteran specifically for Veteran’s Day, but the men got stopped to be thanked for their service and were handed menus. He asked for mine before I could and then rather forcefully showed the waitress and the manager dorky pictures of me in uniform. I would think that maybe people don’t read hats, but I have had people ask me if I was really a Veteran because I was wearing the freaking hat! That is how strong the cultural misconception is about gender and service in our country.

So when the class stopped at the Vietnam Women’s Memorial (which unsurprisedly wasn’t on the list of memorials to see) due to The Wall not being accessible because of Veteran’s Day ceremonies, I decided that was where I had to set up the Soldier’s Table. I knew that many of my sisters at arms were out there were trying to embrace the day while taking another cut to their skin in silence. I was going to take time out to remember Veterans gone, and I was going to do it at a Women’s Memorial.

I also hoped that since the class couldn’t access The Wall, that they would keep walking a lot faster than they did. So that mistake on my part, I think, made things awkward for everyone. I figured, in retrospect, that since most of my classmates were Cultural Heritage majors, there was nothing wrong with them getting to witness a Cultural Heritage practice, and I have nothing to feel awkward about.

One of my classmates, who is a Military Spouse, walked up behind me while I was setting it up and asked, “Are you making a Soldier’s Table?” I said, “yes,” and she asked if she could sit with me. I cried. She cried. A Veteran stopped me to tell me that his VFW takes great pride in their table and that what I set up was beautiful. We shared a short hug and a few tears. Then my classmate and I walked off to go catch up with everyone else. Another asked me later on if what I set up had special meaning, and I told him what it was. He said that he figured it was some kind of custom from how I went about it and from how Veterans walking by looked at what I was doing.

Over 24 hours later, while out taking touristy night pictures, I went back by the Vietnam Women’s Memorial, and the Solder’s Table was still there and not messed up. That shocked me. There had been a rainstorm, and there wasn’t even a leaf on it. I can only think that someone took the time to clear it off. Was it the person who added the second rose? At that point, I broke down and seriously cried it out. I took a picture and posted it to two Veteran’s groups hoping that the critique wouldn’t be vicious as we all have firm opinions about exactly how the table should look. I was worried that it being on the ground would offend someone. The response has been overwhelmingly positive. I even got an invitation from a women’s Veteran magazine to write about why I did it and what outcome I hope it achieves. I am undecided if that is something I want to do. I set it up because it was something I had to do but it was not done for me.

I’m thankful that I decided to set up a Solder’s Table and that it happened where it did. Still, I would have rather spent that day with my fellow Veteran Team Rubicon Greyshirts, who were at Arlington National Cemetary helping staff at the Military Women’s Memorial pack up furniture and display cases. That work would have been the perfect intersection of my professional and personal interests. But to summarize Frost, there is always the “two roads” that diverge “in a yellow wood.”