SSG Alan Shaw Foundation

Y’all, this is why it matters. 😭 When everybody showed up for Alan and our family on Memorial Day, I thought for sure I’d make it back to Arlington by Veterans Day. Life had other plans, and I still couldn’t get there. But she did. ❤️ A woman I’ve never even met remembered my husband and made sure he wasn’t forgotten today. I can’t tell y’all how much that means to me. 🥹

TODAY, WE TURN REMEMBRANCE INTO ACTION. November 10 holds extraordinary significance for the SSG Alan Shaw Foundation. Today marks the 251st birthday of the United States Marine Corps and the birthday of SSG Alan W. Shaw, whose life, service, and sacrifice inspired our mission. We could not have chosen a more meaningful day to announce that the SSG Alan Shaw Foundation is officially recognized by the IRS as a 501(c)(3) public charity, and our inaugural fundraising campaign is now LIVE! On February 9, 2007, SSG Alan W. Shaw was killed in action in Iraq. His sacrifice, like that of thousands of America’s combat fallen, did not end on the battlefield. It continues to be carried by the families left behind. We established this foundation because remembrance must be more than words, ceremonies, or a single day on the calendar. It must be a commitment backed by action. Through our three initiatives, we intend to make that commitment tangible: 🇺🇸 Legacy Flights — Helping Gold Star families travel to Arlington National Cemetery to visit their fallen loved ones. 🇺🇸 Legacy Flags — Providing permanent flagpoles and American-made flags to Gold Star families as lasting tributes to their fallen heroes. 🇺🇸 Section 60 Outdoors — Bringing Gold Star families together through outdoor experiences that foster connection, fellowship, and community. Today, we are asking you to help us bring these programs to life. Our inaugural fundraiser is officially open, and every contribution helps us move from vision to impact. We cannot undo their sacrifice. We cannot return the years their families have lost. But we can ensure that the lives they gave in service to this nation are honored, their stories are preserved, and their families are never forgotten. HONOR SERVICE. REMEMBER SACRIFICE. PRESERVE THEIR LEGACIES. WE ARE THEIR LEGACY. 🇺🇸 DONATE OR SHARE OUR CAMPAIGN: givesendgo.com/ssg-alan-shaw… SSG Alan Shaw Foundation IRS-recognized 501(c)(3) Public Charity EIN: 42-4426703 Contributions are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law.

“From the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli…” I can close my eyes and still hear Alan’s voice booming through our tiny two-bedroom trailer. He didn’t so much sing the Marine Corps Hymn as belt it out from somewhere deep in his chest, every word coming out with a force that seemed too big for those little rooms. I swear I could feel his voice reverberating through those paper-thin walls. There was a pride in the way he sang it, something fierce and absolute, that I could hear and feel but I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand. See, I believe some people really are born to be Marines. Especially when they come into this world on November 10th, the birthday of the United States Marine Corps. 51 years ago today, Alan was one of them. Alan would eventually trade his Marine Corps uniform for Army green, but he never stopped being a Devil Dog. The Corps had left its mark on the man I fell in love with, the dad our children adored, and the man other men looked to for leadership. He carried that same character, discipline, and courage with him into the Army and ultimately into combat in Iraq. Today, the United States Marine Corps celebrates 251 years, and somewhere in Section 60 at Arlington National Cemetery rests a Marine who should be celebrating his 51st birthday. And after all these years, of all the things I wish I could have back, I’d give just about anything for one more moment in that little Arkansas trailer, feeling his voice thunder through those walls. Happy birthday, Alan. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Semper Fi, my love.

My Facebook feed has been particularly heartbreaking lately. So many of the friendships I’ve cherished over the last two decades were forged through the unimaginable losses we suffered in Iraq. We were brought together by circumstances none of us would have chosen, bound by a grief that few outside our community could ever fully comprehend. Now, one by one, those families are marking twenty years. Twenty years since a knock at the door. Twenty years of birthdays, graduations, weddings, and ordinary moments made extraordinary by someone’s absence. For our family, the twenty-year countdown begins now. Nearly twenty years ago, we gathered in the parking lot behind Bravo Company, 1-12 Cavalry, at Fort Hood to say our goodbyes. I look at these photographs and find myself studying the faces. We were so young. Our children were so little. There was laughter mixed with tears, lingering embraces, and the familiar apprehension of sending someone we loved into a war zone. We understood the risks. What we couldn’t possibly comprehend was how profoundly that deployment would change so many lives. Some of those young men would never come home. Others would return carrying experiences and memories that would stay with them for the rest of their lives. Looking back now, I’m struck by how young we all were. We were practically babies ourselves, entrusted with extraordinary responsibilities and confronting realities most people will never have to face, some of us halfway around the world from everything we knew and loved. Twenty years later, our children are grown. Some of us have grandchildren. We’ve watched entire lives unfold in the absence of those we lost, while the men who returned have spent those same decades building lives of their own. As I watch these anniversaries come and go, I find myself remembering not only the men we lost, but all of us as we were then. The young soldiers, the wives, the mothers and fathers, the children. The families standing together before we knew just how much our lives were about to change. To every family approaching this milestone, and to every soldier who made that journey and came home, I remember you. I remember who we were, what we endured, and the extraordinary distance we’ve traveled since. Twenty years later, we are still their legacy. ❤️

I’ve been thinking a lot about the fact that we’re coming up on 25 years. Not just about that day, but about everything that came after it. About the generation that answered the call, what we asked of them, what they gave, and what so many of them and their families are still carrying today. “Where were you when the world stopped turning?” Twenty-five years later, the first few bars of that song can still transport me right back to September 11, 2001. There was the world we knew before that Tuesday morning and the world we inherited after it, and every one of us who was old enough to remember could answer Alan Jackson’s question. I’m sure many of us couldn’t tell you where we were the day before or the day after, but that day? We’ll never forget it. Not because all of us were in New York City, Washington, DC, or that field in Pennsylvania. At least, we weren’t physically there. But as Americans, every single one of us who was old enough to comprehend what we were witnessing knew that something had fundamentally changed. I was 21 years old, managing a restaurant in Searcy, Arkansas. We had the TVs on in the dining room when the news broke, and I remember standing there watching the destruction unfold with this overwhelming thought that I needed to go get my kids from daycare. Did that make any sense? Absolutely not. I was in the middle of nowhere, Arkansas. My children were safe. But I felt this innate need to hold my babies. Somewhere in me, I understood the magnitude of what I was witnessing. I knew my life would never be quite the same. I just couldn’t have comprehended then exactly how personal the aftermath of that day would eventually become. Seventeen hundred miles away, a young Marine from Little Rock was working the gate at Camp Pendleton. While I watched the attack unfold on television, he was standing an armed post on a United States military installation with no way of knowing whether New York and Washington were the end of it or what might be targeted next. That young Marine was Alan W. Shaw, and our paths had not yet crossed. Not long after, Alan finished his four years in the Marine Corps and came home to Arkansas. That’s when he came into my life. It’s difficult to adequately describe the sense of patriotism that swept this country in the aftermath to someone who didn’t experience it. There was anger and grief, certainly, but there was also this palpable sense of unity and purpose. Our country had been attacked, there was a call to serve, and a relatively small number of Americans would ultimately answer it. Alan had already answered that call once. He had served four years in the Marine Corps, come home and started building a civilian life. By the time he decided he wanted to go back, there was a wife and three children in the equation. His first stop was the Marine Corps recruiting office. They told him no. In typical Marine Corps fashion, they hadn’t issued him a wife and three kids, and that was simply too many dependents. So Alan walked across the mall hallway to the Army recruiting station. Needless to say, those of us who loved him weren’t exactly thrilled with how quickly he’d found a solution to that particular problem. His brother, Larry Shaw, later told the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette what Alan would say when his family tried to talk him out of going back: “He’d tell you if everyone thought like we did, we’d have no one taking care of us.” And the truth is, Alan had a point. Most of us answered Alan Jackson’s question by remembering where we were when the world stopped turning. A much smaller number answered something else entirely. They answered the call that came afterward. Alan was one of them. He joined the Army, and his service would eventually take him to Iraq as part of the generation that carried the burden of the Global War on Terror. On February 9, 2007, Alan was killed in Baqubah, Iraq.

We’re exploring the possibility of helping a Gold Star family of one of America’s combat fallen travel to Arlington National Cemetery for Veterans Day. Right now, nothing is guaranteed. We’re still in the early stages of fundraising and trying to determine what the total cost would be. To do that, I need to find a family who would be interested if we’re able to make it happen. Veterans Day is a time to honor the men and women who served our nation. I can’t think of a more meaningful place to do that than Arlington National Cemetery, where we can thank our living veterans while also remembering those who never came home. Our mission at the SSG Alan Shaw Foundation is to preserve the legacies of America’s combat fallen, ensuring they are remembered by name and that their loved ones know their sacrifice still matters. If you are a Gold Star family of one of America’s combat fallen and would like to be considered, please send me a private message. There is no commitment, and I’m not making any promises yet. I’m simply trying to find the right family so we can begin planning, estimate the cost, and work toward making this a reality. If this isn’t for your family, I’d be grateful if you shared this post. You may help us reach a family whose hero’s legacy deserves to be honored. ❤️🇺🇸❤️

How it started. How it ended. Patriots didn’t just bring flowers to a grave. They showed a Gold Star mom that her son is still remembered 17 years after his sacrifice. This is who we are. 🇺🇸❤️

BIG milestone for the SSG Alan Shaw Foundation yesterday… We are officially incorporated! It’s hard to describe what it feels like to watch something that has lived in my head and my heart for so long finally become real. We still have a few big steps ahead of us. Next comes our EIN, our 501(c)(3), opening our bank account, launching the website, and then… we get to work. We’ll also be launching a crowdfunding campaign very soon to help us get off the ground while we work through the 501(c)(3) process. Separately, we’ll be announcing our Founding Donor Pledge Campaign. Those pledges won’t be collected right away. They’ll demonstrate the support behind this mission and help strengthen our 501(c)(3) application as we move through the approval process. Thank you for taking this journey with us. From the very beginning, you’ve helped shape this foundation with your ideas, encouragement, and belief in what we’re building together. Today is worth celebrating. Tomorrow, we get back to work. We’re just getting started. 🇺🇸❤️😊

I’ve been kicking around another idea for the SSG Alan Shaw Foundation, and I’d love some honest feedback from y’all. As we’ve been building this foundation, we’ve realized that a lot of our ideas come from a simple question: What would have meant something to us as a Gold Star family that wasn’t available? I’ve landed on something that I really want to incorporate into the SASF: Legacy Flags. The vision would be simple: provide professionally installed flagpoles and American flags for the homes of Gold Star families. Not as a gift for the sake of giving, but as a lasting tribute to the service member who gave everything. A daily reminder that they’re remembered by name, not just on Memorial Day, but every day. As I look at it, the foundation is beginning to take shape in three different places: ✈️ Legacy Flights — honoring their legacy at the cemetery by helping families visit Arlington and other places of remembrance. 🦆 Section 60 Outdoors — honoring their legacy in the community by bringing Gold Star families and combat veterans together through the outdoors. 🇺🇸 Legacy Flags — honoring their legacy at home with a permanent tribute that flies every day. To me, that’s a pretty meaningful way to honor the men and women who gave everything: at the cemetery, in the community, and at home. So I’d love to hear from y’all. Is this something you could get behind? Are these the kinds of initiatives you’d support, sponsor, or volunteer to help make happen? I genuinely want your feedback as we continue building this foundation. ❤️🇺🇸❤️

This is why I love this country. Late last night, I made a post explaining that I’m trying to get the foundation off the ground from my iPhone and asked if anyone had a laptop they weren’t using. Early this morning, an amazing patriot reached out and, if all goes according to plan, a new laptop is on its way. I don’t think people always realize how much of this foundation is being built by ordinary Americans who simply want to help. Every time we run into an obstacle, somebody seems to show up. Pretty incredible when you think about it. Thank you. You know who you are. 🥰