Memorial Day is our holiday in remembrance of those who have died in military service overseas, while serving our country.
They deserve our highest respect.
My father was in the Navy in World War II. I have some old photos, and the flag that was put on his grave in a case in my office, and a set of dog-tags. When I was a kid, I wore his old white sailer’s hat for quiet a while – I thought it was really neat. He’s one of those who came back – if he had not, I would not be here.
My grandfather on my father’s side had an old army hardhat hanging on a nail in his garage, which I found when I was a kid. I asked him about it. Frankly, I don’t remember what was said – I was still young enough to play in the dirt with a spoon – but I think he served in World War I.
Neither of them ever talked about their military service, that I can remember. Nonetheless, they both came back.
I honor those who died in military service for our country, for the price they paid. For the freedom we continue to enjoy, and for getting my Pop and Dad back, so I could exist, and grow up to know them.
And to remember that those who lost their lives in the service lost far more than just their lives; they lost all the lives that could have been. So the rest of us could live, and live free.