By Tom Murphy, Superintendent of Federal Way schools

On Veterans Day last week, we honored the men and women who have served in our armed forces.

Throughout our history we have example after example of individual heroism in defense of our country. However, I have been forever humbled by the collective dedication of these men and women to the protection of the ideals that have defined us as a people.

A number of years ago, I attended a conference in Washington, D.C. While I was there, I visited Arlington National Cemetery and the Vietnam Memorial. While at Arlington, I witnessed the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

Those of you who have seen this changing of the guard understand when I describe the event as being majestic. The day I was there, I was one of about 200 people crowded into a small area.

As I strained to see, I observed people from all walks of life, young and old, standing quietly as the guard walked back and forth in his duty to protect the tomb. The changing itself was crisp, efficient and properly militaristic. No one made a sound. I may have even held my breath.

The experience at Arlington was sobering. Rows upon rows upon rows of white markers, standing as eternal sentinels over the graves of fallen soldiers. The serenity of the place was astonishing. In the midst of what is a major urban center, walking along the paths amongst the markers, I don’t seem to recall any distractions, any noise, other than the sound of my footsteps.

The Vietnam Memorial was a more difficult experience for me. The low black wall, situated below the level of the ground, arcing gracefully from one end to the other, overpowered me with its simplicity. More than 50,000 names of servicemen and women are etched into the wall.

I walked along the wall and let my hand drift over the names. I was looking for one name in particular, a good friend from high school.

Along the bottom of the wall were memorials left by family, friends and loved ones of the men and women whose names define the wall. American flags, stuffed animals, notes and letters, flowers and personal items known and cherished, perhaps, by only two people.

When I found my friend’s name, I let my fingers rest on the letters, remembering the experiences we shared in our youth, wondering what his sacrifice meant to me, to our country…wondering if he knew that he was remembered and still loved…trying to recall the last time we were together, the things about which we talked, the jokes we made, the dreams we shared.

For how long I lingered there, I do not know, as time had no meaning nor relevance. I found it very hard to leave. However, when I did, I ascended the sloping walkway at the other end of the wall and rejoined the sights and sounds of the city.

During the long walk back to where I had parked, I thought of the difficult times we experienced as a country during the Vietnam war. I grew up during that time, attended college, graduated, got married and started a family. During this time, we were engaged in an ideological struggle that threatened the very core of our democracy.

It appeared to me then, and does still now, that we had lost sight of our “common ground,” the elements of our collective beliefs that give life to our democracy.

When I reached my car, I looked back at the Mall. I could plainly see the Lincoln Memorial and, as I turned, the Washington Monument.

It was at that precise moment I understood that I had actually visited the “common ground” of our identity, that loss, and sacrifice, and dedication to a set of mutually held ideals is that commonality to which we always return in times of crisis.

I understood with great clarity that the men and women honored at these special places have protected that commonality since the beginning of our republic, and I was grateful.

I no longer wondered what my friend’s sacrifice meant to me or my country.

Tom Murphy is superintendent of Federal Way Public Schools and can be reached at tmurphy@fwps.org or (253) 945-2010.