My dad’s life is still unfolding for me, 5 years after his death. After watching him fight leukemia when he was 80-something, as well as cancer, I learned a little about WWII vets: they are, and were, a tough breed; a breed created, it would seem, for the job they had at hand. I am proud of my dad, as we all are of our family members who have fought, and are fighting, for this country and for our freedom and the freedom of others.

I didn’t always feel this way. I had many arguments, in 1969, with my dad at the dinner table about the war in Vietnam.  My dad said I didn’t understand.  Now, so many years later, I understand. I can also now deeply appreciate what courage, bravery, sacrifice it takes for a soldier to leave family, home, friends, to fight for the preservation of freedom and basic human rights.

So, from my nice, safe home in a town where I get to vote and complain that there aren’t any candidates worth voting for, in a state that is united with 49 more in our fairly common goal of pursuit of happiness, and which still struggles to define and keep our bill of rights, I can only offer two words to all Vets:


And I offer 3 more:


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