by The World of Kathy Camp - KathyCamp1

Bugles and Blessings

There’s a quiet distinction between Veterans Day and Memorial Day that often gets blurred.


One honors the selfless commitment to serve.
The other honors the selfless sacrifice of those who gave everything in that service.

Both are holy in their own way.

I grew up amid monuments to service — some carved from stone, others carved by life, both standing tall through every storm.

A woman in a blue shirt stands next to a man in a military uniform on a grassy field, both smiling at the camera.

People think the military — especially a place like West Point — breeds war-mongers and glory-seekers. My 18+ years there taught me the opposite is true.

It’s where I learned that the study of war is actually the study of peace — that the real mission is to prepare for the worst so you can lead toward the best. The classrooms weren’t filled with bloodlust; they were filled with strategy, philosophy, ethics, diplomacy. The goal wasn’t conquest — it was character.

Two women in formal attire at an event, one wearing a military uniform with medals and the other in a black strapless gown.
A woman in a black blazer stands next to a man in a U.S. Marine Corps uniform, both smiling. They are indoors with a backdrop of greenery and light-colored walls.
A military officer in a brown uniform poses for a photo with a woman in professional attire at a formal event, with an Army banner in the background.

And, of course, the pageantry of tradition ran through it all — gray uniforms against fall leaves, the echo of the bugle across the Hudson, the swing of sabers at a wedding arch. To this day, it makes me grateful for those who still say, “Here am I, Lord. Send me.”

A group of four individuals poses together outdoors at West Point, surrounded by other attendees. The backdrop features buildings and trees in autumn colors.

Those who forgo frat parties for Beast Barracks, summer vacations for Air Assault School, and lazy Sundays for leadership labs in the rain.

Two women pose together outdoors, one in military uniform and the other in casual attire, smiling for a photo with a large historic building in the background.

Growing up at West Point wasn’t just steeped in tradition — it was occasionally ambushed by it.

When I was about twelve, maybe thirteen, I was living in our granite castle aka the Cadet Chapel — I was startled awake in the middle of the night by the unmistakable sound of a band. I looked out my bedroom window, and there they were — the Spirit Band — hundreds of cadets flooding our backyard like a brass-infused invasion. Some were even on the roof, being lowered right in front of my window.

Take a moment to let that set in.

Horrified, I sprinted what felt like miles down the hall to my parents’ room, pleading for help. My father, in his booming Chaplain’s voice said, “Go back to sleep, you’re dreaming.”

I was not dreaming.

I ended up curled up in my closet, singing “Nearer My God to Thee” until sunrise — which, in hindsight, felt both poetic and pathetic.

The next day, the Superintendent called my father into his office. Turns out, the First Captain had led a spirit mission the night before — meant to “rouse the chaplain who’d complained that spirit was lacking in the Corps.” Mission accomplished.

The only spirit that prevailed was the spirit of fear that still haunts my REM cycle 35 years later.

Even in the most disciplined environments, humanity still finds a way to break curfew.

Group of military cadets in gray uniforms, celebrating with decorative ornaments and expressions of joy.

We say, “Thank you for your service,” but sometimes that phrase lands short of the reality.

Three women pose together, with one in military fatigues and two in casual dresses, smiling in front of a brick wall.

Because service isn’t just about deployments and medals. It’s about missing the birth of your first child while your spouse gives birth alone in a cold, military hospital, counting ceiling tiles between contractions. It’s about a neighbor teaching your kids to ride a bike because you’re half a world away.

When you thank a veteran, maybe add — “And thank your family for me, too.”

Because service is a family affair.

A group of people posing together in a hallway, some wearing military uniforms and others in casual attire, smiling at the camera.

Derek Thomson, Class of ’95, taught me to drive stick shift on the road out to Buckner. I’m still waiting for the chiropractic bill.

A woman in a plaid dress with a purple bow stands next to a man in military uniform adorned with medals, both smiling at an indoor event.

My mother cut the cord in the delivery room of my only child while her father listened for the first cry through a phone from a faraway land. These stories aren’t unique — they’re universal among military families. Quiet acts of resilience stitched into a bigger story of devotion.

A military personnel in camouflage uniform stands next to a young girl, both smiling. They are in a home setting with a clock on the wall and a door in the background.

So today, I’m pausing in gratitude — for every person who ever said “follow me” instead of “after you.”

A man in a suit and a woman in a black outfit stand smiling together at an event, with a crowd of people in military uniforms and a large screen displaying an image in the background.

Because joy, it turns out, can be found in service of all kinds.
In teaching. In mentoring. In parenting. In volunteering.
In showing up for your neighbor.

Three individuals pose together at a festive gathering, with a Christmas tree and balloons in the background. One man wears a West Point Army shirt, while another man is in a blazer. A woman stands between them, smiling.

Not all of us wear uniforms.
But all of us can honor the call — to serve, to lead, to love.

A smiling man in military camouflage stands with a woman in a blue plaid shirt, both appearing happy in a grassy outdoor setting.
A man in a suit speaking into a microphone in front of a line of military cadets in gray uniforms at West Point.

Service, like spirit, finds its way in — through stone walls, sleepless nights, and hearts that still answer, ‘Send me.’”

Happy Veterans Day.

A group of three people smiling together at an outdoor event, with one person in a racing wheelchair wearing a race bib. The background shows other participants and vehicles.

One thought on “Bugles and Blessings”

  1. This is so beautiful. Time at West Point built us up in many ways. Times we will never forget. And special friends who are on our hearts. Your kindergarten teacher!

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