thedrifter
12-09-08, 07:36 AM
Pride and sadness on Marine's street in Flushing
Monday, December 8th 2008, 3:50 PM
It's not the way he wanted to see his brother come home to Flushing.
But Juan Ramon says that on Dec. 13, when he looks up at the street sign on the corner of 45th Ave. and Kissena Blvd. where he lives and sees his brother Julian's name it will be with a mixture of pride and deep sadness.
"Julian would probably kid around and gloat about it a little bit," says Juan, 18. "Then he'd tackle me, wrestling me to the floor, laughing. Going easy on me because he was a Marine. He loved to laugh. We laughed a lot together. ..."
The laughter stopped July 20, 2006, when Cpl. Julian A. Ramon stepped on an IED in Al Anbar Province while serving with the 3rd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force.
Need another number to mark his legacy?
Julian A. Ramon was 22.
Two and a half years ago a USMC officer rang the Ramon family's doorbell on 45th Ave. at 6 a.m. to let his mother know that their son Julian would never come marching home again.
On Dec. 13, at 10 a.m., a USMC Honor Guard and city officials, including Councilman John Liu who spearheaded this effort, will rename 45th Ave. as Cpl. Julian A. Ramon Ave.
"This will be the happiest Christmas for my mother since Julian died," says Juan. "But for me, my brother's death took the joy out of holidays. The day he died I was completely numb. In denial. I'm not in denial anymore. I'm not sad about it anymore, but the holidays, without Julian, I just don't care about them anymore. It's just another day. But I will be happy on Dec. 13, because at least people will be remembering my brother."
The Christmases with Julian that Juan will remember are the ones where they woke up early, eager to tear open their presents, and then watching the annual "A Christmas Story" marathon on TV, and eating a big meal with the family.
"And then wrestling and laughing," says Juan, a student at John Jay College. "Yeah, yeah, those Christmases were pretty awesome. ..."
But Juan feels that as the war winds down most people have already forgotten the Iraq veterans, even those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
"People like to say that the dead troops will always be remembered," he says. "But just look at the newspapers. Angelina Jolie is on page 1. Soldiers like my brother who die in Iraq appear on page 16 now. But I think about my brother every single day. Every day."
Juan says that after Julian graduated from John Bowne High in Flushing he went with a friend to a recruitment center in Brooklyn and joined the Marines.
"I was proud of him," Juan says. "My parents wished he would have gone to college. But Julian wanted to go in the service so he could afford college afterwards. He also wanted to serve his country."
Juan says Julian would call from Iraq and talk to his parents for about 15 minutes.
"Then me and him would talk for like two hours," he said. "I'd ask him what it was like there. He wasn't happy to be there. He said it was just a job. That he couldn't wait to come home. We'd talk about friends, the neighborhood, the future. I spoke to him a week before he died and he was full of life. He was my big brother and my friend."
Then came the ringing doorbell at 6 a.m.
Then they buried Cpl. Julian A. Ramon in Pinelawn National Cemetery with full military honors. Then the mourners left, and the Honor Guard marched off to bury more kids like Julian. And then Juan's days without his brother piled one on top of the other like a tower of loss as the war ground on, and became a hot-button issue in the presidential campaign.
"I wanted to see the war end, so I was for Obama," Juan says. "But like Julian, I don't think about the politics of it much. No one usually does what they say once they get elected anyway. We'll see. ..."
Then, as the toxic economy dominated the news, Iraq began fading from the American conversation.
For shame.
"I visited Julian's grave a few times," Juan says. "My mother goes all the time. But I don't like visiting my brother and seeing a cold stone in the ground. I prefer to remember him tackling me, wrestling me, laughing. ..."
But he will be with his family on the corner of 45th Ave. and Kissena Blvd. Saturday morning, as they rename the street where he lived and grew up with his brother Cpl. Julian A. Ramon Ave.
"That will make me proud," he said. "That will make me happy. And it will also make me kind of sad because he won't be here to see it...."
dhamill@nydailynews.com
Ellie
Monday, December 8th 2008, 3:50 PM
It's not the way he wanted to see his brother come home to Flushing.
But Juan Ramon says that on Dec. 13, when he looks up at the street sign on the corner of 45th Ave. and Kissena Blvd. where he lives and sees his brother Julian's name it will be with a mixture of pride and deep sadness.
"Julian would probably kid around and gloat about it a little bit," says Juan, 18. "Then he'd tackle me, wrestling me to the floor, laughing. Going easy on me because he was a Marine. He loved to laugh. We laughed a lot together. ..."
The laughter stopped July 20, 2006, when Cpl. Julian A. Ramon stepped on an IED in Al Anbar Province while serving with the 3rd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force.
Need another number to mark his legacy?
Julian A. Ramon was 22.
Two and a half years ago a USMC officer rang the Ramon family's doorbell on 45th Ave. at 6 a.m. to let his mother know that their son Julian would never come marching home again.
On Dec. 13, at 10 a.m., a USMC Honor Guard and city officials, including Councilman John Liu who spearheaded this effort, will rename 45th Ave. as Cpl. Julian A. Ramon Ave.
"This will be the happiest Christmas for my mother since Julian died," says Juan. "But for me, my brother's death took the joy out of holidays. The day he died I was completely numb. In denial. I'm not in denial anymore. I'm not sad about it anymore, but the holidays, without Julian, I just don't care about them anymore. It's just another day. But I will be happy on Dec. 13, because at least people will be remembering my brother."
The Christmases with Julian that Juan will remember are the ones where they woke up early, eager to tear open their presents, and then watching the annual "A Christmas Story" marathon on TV, and eating a big meal with the family.
"And then wrestling and laughing," says Juan, a student at John Jay College. "Yeah, yeah, those Christmases were pretty awesome. ..."
But Juan feels that as the war winds down most people have already forgotten the Iraq veterans, even those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
"People like to say that the dead troops will always be remembered," he says. "But just look at the newspapers. Angelina Jolie is on page 1. Soldiers like my brother who die in Iraq appear on page 16 now. But I think about my brother every single day. Every day."
Juan says that after Julian graduated from John Bowne High in Flushing he went with a friend to a recruitment center in Brooklyn and joined the Marines.
"I was proud of him," Juan says. "My parents wished he would have gone to college. But Julian wanted to go in the service so he could afford college afterwards. He also wanted to serve his country."
Juan says Julian would call from Iraq and talk to his parents for about 15 minutes.
"Then me and him would talk for like two hours," he said. "I'd ask him what it was like there. He wasn't happy to be there. He said it was just a job. That he couldn't wait to come home. We'd talk about friends, the neighborhood, the future. I spoke to him a week before he died and he was full of life. He was my big brother and my friend."
Then came the ringing doorbell at 6 a.m.
Then they buried Cpl. Julian A. Ramon in Pinelawn National Cemetery with full military honors. Then the mourners left, and the Honor Guard marched off to bury more kids like Julian. And then Juan's days without his brother piled one on top of the other like a tower of loss as the war ground on, and became a hot-button issue in the presidential campaign.
"I wanted to see the war end, so I was for Obama," Juan says. "But like Julian, I don't think about the politics of it much. No one usually does what they say once they get elected anyway. We'll see. ..."
Then, as the toxic economy dominated the news, Iraq began fading from the American conversation.
For shame.
"I visited Julian's grave a few times," Juan says. "My mother goes all the time. But I don't like visiting my brother and seeing a cold stone in the ground. I prefer to remember him tackling me, wrestling me, laughing. ..."
But he will be with his family on the corner of 45th Ave. and Kissena Blvd. Saturday morning, as they rename the street where he lived and grew up with his brother Cpl. Julian A. Ramon Ave.
"That will make me proud," he said. "That will make me happy. And it will also make me kind of sad because he won't be here to see it...."
dhamill@nydailynews.com
Ellie