The Purple Heart in the School Gym

What Ethan said at school

Michelle called me on Tuesday evening while I was washing up my supper dishes. I knew from the way she said “Hi, Dad” that something had happened.

“Mrs. Halvorson called,” she said. Mrs. Halvorson is Ethan’s fourth grade teacher. She has taught at that school for more than thirty years, and she had Michelle in her very first class.

“There was a thing on the playground,” Michelle said. “A boy in Ethan’s class, Tyler Brandt, his great-grandpa was in Korea. Tyler said his great-grandpa has a medal, and Ethan said medals don’t mean anything.”

I turned off the water and dried my hands on the towel and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Ethan told him they hand out Purple Hearts to everybody,” Michelle said. “Tyler shoved him. Ethan shoved back. They both sat out recess for two days. Mrs. Halvorson wanted me to know where Ethan heard it.”

“Did you tell her?” I asked.

“I told her it was a misunderstanding at home,” Michelle said. She was quiet for a while. “Dad, I’m sorry. I should have said something Sunday. I’m sorry I just sat there.”

“You said his name,” I said. “That was more than I said.”

“Greg isn’t trying to be cruel,” she said. “He has his reasons. It’s not mine to tell you, but he has them. I just need you to know he isn’t some guy who thinks it’s funny.”

I have known Greg for sixteen years. He sells crop and farm insurance out of an office on Main Street, and the farmers around here like him because he will drive out to look at hail damage himself.

He coaches Ethan’s baseball team in the summer. He shoveled my driveway twice last winter without being asked.

I had never once thought of him as a cruel man, and I did not think so that night either.

“I know he isn’t,” I said. “Tell Ethan I’m not mad at him. Tell him that first, before anything else.”

“He thinks you are,” Michelle said. “He asked me if you were still coming to his game. There isn’t any game, Dad. It’s November. He just wanted to know if you were still coming.”