Viewpoint: Veterans Day, beyond ‘Thank you for your service’
American Legion Keith Powell Post 78 Sergeant-at-arms John McCurdy at the 2021 Veterans Day services at Memorial Park. Courier file photo
by Joel M. Gonzales
How many times do we say, “Thank you for your service”? And what do those words really mean? For many veterans, the words can ring hollow when the system meant to serve them still makes them fight to be seen and cared for. We celebrate the uniform, but not the aftermath — the injuries and invisible wounds that surface years later.
After 9/11, like many Americans, I felt a deep duty to serve. Older than most recruits, divorced, and raising two young kids, I was searching for meaning. I thought the military might fill that void. But as my training wore on, a realization hit me: my children needed their father more than the military needed another soldier in a war that no longer made sense to me. The weight of that decision pushed me into depression as I struggled to find purpose. But through God, reflection, and my work with Nosotros, I found new ways to serve — through advocacy and filmmaking.
“Supporting our veterans” has become too symbolic — a slogan rather than a promise lived through policy or compassion. Whether someone served one weekend a month or devoted decades to this country, each wrote a blank check payable to the United States. Really think about that.
I’m not asking people to hold back those words, just to carry them with understanding. Gratitude means more when it comes with awareness.
That belief led me to make “Firewatch,” a documentary about the fight to recognize veterans exposed to toxic burn pits in Iraq and Afghanistan and the families who refused to be ignored. The title comes from a military term meaning to stand guard while others rest. To me, it represents vigilance, compassion, and duty.
“Firewatch” isn’t about politics or blame; it’s about people, and a grassroots movement that echoed through Congress and turned gratitude into action. In 2022, their persistence helped to get the PACT Act, landmark legislation acknowledging the cost of toxic exposure, signed into law. And their story reminded me that “thank you for your service” means something only when spoken with understanding, when we truly grasp the sacrifice behind it.
Even after the PACT Act’s passage, negligence continues. Veterans are still denied care. Families are still losing loved ones. Sergeant Kevin Lloyd — a veteran exposed to burn pits who qualified for benefits — is, at the moment of this writing, dying of stage 4 colon cancer after being denied a routine colonoscopy because he didn’t meet the VA’s age requirement. His story, along with the more recent toxic exposure tragedies from Camp Lejeune to Red Hill, is a painful reminder of how far we still have to go.
This is what “Firewatch” exposes — not just what went wrong then, but what still needs to be made right.
That’s why, this Veterans Day month, we’re partnering with Burn Pits 360 and the Grunt Style Foundation to launch the “Firewatch” finishing fund at givebutter.com/standfirewatch. It’s a nationwide call to share this story with audiences everywhere, so it can truly serve the people it was made to protect. We’re not raising money to finish the film — “Firewatch” is complete — but to release it independently, bypassing Hollywood gatekeepers.
Participating individuals, nonprofits, or organizations can host 20-minute preview discussions, or simply share our campaign and receive a 10% give-back to a verified charity of their choice. Every small act of support helps ensure “Firewatch” reaches those who need to see it most, and keeps the conversation alive for those still fighting to be heard.
This project embodies what filmmaking means to me — telling the untold stories, giving voice to the voiceless, and serving those too often overlooked. Firewatch reminded me that producing with purpose isn’t about validation or scale, it’s about impact. And this film, I believe, will mean something real to the families and communities it represents.
Veterans Day isn’t about a day off; it’s about a promise that our veterans will never be forgotten, dismissed, or left behind. That promise is kept only when each of us stands beside those who once stood for us.
When you see a veteran or active-duty soldier, whether they’re marching in a parade, sitting quietly at a coffee shop, or standing in line at the bank, take a moment to look a little deeper. So when you say, “Thank you for your service,” and you should, those words will carry weight, for them, and for you.
Joel M. Gonzales is Claremont resident, film producer and president of Nosotros, the oldest Latino arts organization in the U.S.










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