Today, on Veterans Day, I want to extend my deepest gratitude to all who have served our country — and to the families who have stood beside them. Your commitment and sacrifice have protected our freedoms and helped shape our communities. 

Thank you for your service.

There is one veteran in particular who shaped my life in ways I am still grateful for every day — my stepfather, Henry Williams. I called him Dad. He was a proud U.S. Army veteran who served in the Korean War.

No one could have predicted that his army service in the early 1950s would later play a pivotal role in my upbringing when I immigrated to the United States in the 1980s.

One of the very first places he took me was to his longtime friend’s home in Compton.  Her name was Mrs. Polk and she ran the Veterans of Foreign Wars Ladies Auxiliary in Los Angeles. I didn’t speak English well and I was too young to understand what the VFWLA did, but my Dad signed me up anyway. He wanted me to learn the importance of service, community, and honoring veterans.

One evening each month, Dad would drop me off at Mrs. Polk’s house and she would take a small group of us — girls from different backgrounds — to Patriotic Hall in downtown Los Angeles for our monthly meetings. I was the only Latina in her station wagon, but when we walked into that giant building in L.A., I saw others who looked like me and then some — Latina, Black, Asian, Pacific Islander, White — all united by service to veterans of foreign wars. We volunteered at community events, marched in parades, and attended conferences focused on government, leadership, and public service. One summer, we boarded a Greyhound bus to Sacramento for a week-long statewide convention.

The top two photos are of my Dad and his army buddies. He is the first soldier on the left of the back row. The bottom photo is of my VFW troop in 1984 when I was 10 years old. Mrs. Polk is wearing the turquoise dress with the white sweater. I loved wearing that uniform with the blue beret!

It was there — in those monthly meetings where I was struggling to understand the conversations and learning English word by word — that I began to understand what it means to serve. That was the first place I felt connected to a broader purpose in this new country I now called home.

Years later, when I was teaching at Long Beach City College, I often encouraged my journalism students to interview and write about veterans on campus and in the community. Some of the most meaningful stories my students published were about men and women whose military experiences had shaped our city in profound ways. Those stories always reminded me of my Dad, and of the early lessons he gifted me.

Service is not just something you talk about. It is something you give. 

So today, I honor:

• My Dad, Private First Class Henry Williams, U.S. Army, Korean War Veteran (b 1937, d 2009).

• Mrs. Polk, who opened the doors of service for me.

• The VFW Ladies Auxiliary members who fostered my sense of belonging.

• Every veteran and every family who has sacrificed for our country.

Thank you for your courage, your example, and above all, your service.

Vivian Malauulu

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